Shawn turned back to Vross, his face contorting into a crooked smirk.
*
Trent was tossing an old football into the air when Shawn and Melissa arrived back at the makeshift hangar. When he caught sight of the duo, he tossed the ball into the cargo hold of Sylvia’s Delight as they approached.
“Everything all set?” Shawn asked, sounding far more tired than when he’d last seen his ship.
“Yeah, Skipper. The supplies are in and everything’s ready.”
Shawn eyed the four stacked pallets inside D’s belly. “Did you have any problems?”
“Not really. Security came down and checked everything out, asked me a few questions, that sort of thing.”
“But no problems?”
“Well, there was a severe lack of dancing girls, and the food in this place sucks, so I don’t think I’ll be giving them a good review in the near future.” Trent then kicked at a broken pallet on the floor. “And the furnishings could use a little updating.”
Shawn gave him a look that told Trent he wasn’t in a very jovial mood.
“You mean did they find anything?” the mechanic offered with slightly more tact.
Shawn dipped his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Yes. Did they find anything?”
“Not that I’m aware of. They just took a walk around the ship, peered into the hold for a second, then left. It was pretty quick.”
“Good,” Shawn sighed, then nodded approvingly. “We’re going to hit level three and get a bite to eat before we take off. Care to join us?”
Trent dismissed Shawn with a wave of his hand. “Nah, I’m good. I made a peanut butter sandwich with some stale bread I found in the fridge. Considering it’s sitting like a brick in my stomach, I’m either full or I’m about to die. I think I’ll hit the casino for a quick game of bak-tula.”
Shawn chuckled, remembering the last time the two had played that particular game together. “Beating me four hands in a row doesn’t compare to playing against the house. Be careful in there…and watch your wallet.”
“I’m always careful, and this sweet little baby is going to stay right where she is.” He then patted his rear pocket. Not immediately sensing any contents, he continued to pat down the remaining six pockets on his coveralls to no avail. He gave Shawn a quizzical look, and only then did Melissa hold up his missing wallet.
“This was on the hangar floor,” she said with a smile.
Restraining embarrassment, Trent gingerly took it with a reluctant half-grin. “Thanks.”
Shawn could only shake his head. “We’ll meet back here in an hour.”
*
At the same moment Shawn and Melissa exited through the doors of the landing bay, a large crate was being delivered via a magnetic dolly to the security office in Darus Station’s upper administrative complex. The officer receiving the crate, a well-fed human male named Wilkins, signed the electronic manifest and dragged the box into the security office lounge.
“What is it?” the officer’s immediate superior, Sergeant Tate, asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s pretty heavy.”
“Where did it come from?”
The junior officer who’d dragged the crate into the lounge gave the large container a once-over and frowned as he scrutinized the shipping label. “Lower levels. It’s addressed to this space, with attention to ‘Station Security.’”
“What are those holes for?” his superior asked, referring to the two palm-sized holes that had been burnt into the crate’s top.
“Huh,” the fat junior security guard pondered as he scratched at his balding head. “I’m not sure.” The officer tried to peer into the box, but could see nothing in the darkness.
The second officer pulled him away. “Hey, be careful. You don’t know what’s in there.”
“It’s probably just a shipment of food or supplies that got misrouted.”
“Strange,” the superior officer mumbled.
The crate thumped once, then twice. The two officers jumped back in surprise and reactively withdrew their sidearms.
“Food doesn’t move!” Wilkins shouted, his pistol shaking uneasily in his hand. “Open it…I’ll cover you.”
“Oh no,” his superior shot back. “You’re the junior man here, Wilkins. You open it and I’ll do the covering.”
The crate thumped again, then rocked itself from side to side.
Tate repeated his command. “I’m the Sergeant and I’m in charge. Now, open that box, Corporal!”
Wilkins cautiously leaned his round frame in and unlatched the top of the crate. He glanced over at the sergeant, who took a deep swallow and nodded to the corporal with haste. With one hand on his sidearm and the other on the lid, Corporal Wilkins flung the top of the box open at the same instant he jumped back, sure that whatever was in the box was going to jump out at them. Instead, nothing happened.
The two men peered into the crate and gave its contents a bewildered look. It appeared to be a man, bound in magnetic restraints, his mouth gagged with heavy, transparent packing tape. His gray eyes were wide with terror as he strained to speak.
Wilkins reached in and grasped a note that had been pinned to the man’s chest.
“What does it say, Corporal?” Sergeant Tate asked, his weapon now lying limply at his side.
It took Wilkins a moment to locate his holster around his girth. But once his sidearm was holstered, he gave the note a vexed expression before reading it aloud. “It says ‘Hi, my name is Cal Vross, and I have an illegal depot of weapons on deck 10, section 24, compartment 5-J. I’ve drawn you a map, just in case I forget how to tell you. On the off chance that you think I’m lying, one of the illegal weapons is lying beneath my body.”
Sergeant Tate brought his pistol up, this time leveling it at Vross with confidence. “Get him out of there, Corporal. And do it very slowly.”
As the fat man extricated Vross from the crate, a Unified Marine pulse rifle, slightly scorched and unloaded, fell out of Vross’ bound hands and tumbled back into the box.
*
“So are you going to tell me what that was all about back there?” Melissa, seated across from Shawn and leaning slightly over the illuminated table, asked softly.
Shawn took a sip from his drink, then gingerly set it back down. He and Melissa had retired to a small restaurant on the uppermost level of Darus Station’s toroid. The expansive, curved overhead was lined with windows that looked up into open space, and from where Melissa was seated, she could see the Rhea hovering motionless several miles away.
“What do you mean?” he asked, not looking at her.
“I mean you just about went crazy with Vross over whether there were any survivors on Second Earth or not.”
Shawn’s voice was distant as he scrutinized the condensation forming on his orange drink. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, what would you say, then?”
He shuffled his hands for a moment before speaking. “Someone I know was supposed to be there. I just…it’s just that I never—”
“—got to say goodbye?” She tried to search his eyes for answers, but he continued to avoid her gaze.
Shawn reached for his drink, then placed it back down on the table without taking a sip. “Something like that.”
It didn’t take a great deal of logic to deduce his forlorn expression. Melissa smiled down at her own drink, a bubbling pink concoction of Aldeberan glow water and Gamma IV whiskey. “Who was she?”
This time, when Shawn reached for the glass, he imbibed heavily. “What makes you think it was a woman?”
“We women can tell these things, you know.” This time her eyes caught his.
“It’s never been scientifically proven that women are mind readers.”
“Be that as it may, I’d still like to know if I’m right or not.”
“I’ll bet you would.” The words were meant as a joke, but they came out with a razor-sharp edge to them. Shawn watched as her smile faded, and
then she began to bite at her lips as if she were fighting against saying something that might further aggravate him. She ran a hand through her dark auburn hair for no particular reason, appearing to Shawn that she was slightly uncomfortable with the silence.
“It was my wife,” he finally offered, not wanting to see Melissa further torture herself.
She hoped her mouth wasn’t gaping wide open. “You were married?”
“What, you don’t think a guy like me can be married?” he shot back defensively.
“Oh, no. It’s not that. It’s just—” She caught herself before she continued, and risked reaching out to lay a hand over his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Shawn felt a twinge of guilt cross his heart, although he wasn’t quite sure why. “It’s okay. Really.”
When he didn’t pull his hand away from her, Melissa took it as an encouraging sign. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?”
Of course I don’t want to talk about it. Why would I want to recount the story of the loss of the love of my life? It was painful enough when it happened, and I’d rather not relive it. She meant everything to me; we had a life plan for the future, maybe even kids someday. We had dreams and aspirations for a future that was cut tragically short. Why should I want to bother you with the details? He asked himself those questions in the split second before he opened his mouth, not realizing he was telling her the story out loud until he was halfway through. It wasn’t until he was finished that he noticed his drink was empty. Shawn held his glass aloft, jiggling it in the air and getting the attention of the waiter in the process, who promptly brought him another.
During the next few minutes of uneasy silence, Melissa mulled over her words before pressing Shawn for further information. “So she was supposed to be there? I mean, on Second Earth?”
Shawn harrumphed. “Trying out those OSI interrogation tactics on me, I see.” He instantly downed his new drink.
Melissa scowled. “That’s not fair, Shawn. And that’s not what I was trying to do.”
He half-shrugged. “I guess it really doesn’t matter anyway. It’s all in my personnel file, which I’m sure you’ve read by now.”
Melissa pulled her hand back coldly from Shawn. “You’re aiming dangerously close to below the belt.”
When the waiter again brought Shawn another drink, he sipped at it cautiously, then set it back down on the table. “Supposedly,” he finally replied. “She was supposed to be on Second Earth.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was a civilian, on a Sector Command transport—against my wishes, mind you—that departed the research station on Drakkus.”
Melissa nodded in understanding. “The one that was near Corvan?”
“That’s the one,” he snapped his fingers, then took another long sip of his ale before he continued. “Anyway, she departed Drakkus and was on her way to Second Earth when her ship disappeared. Not long after, the Kafarans destroyed Drakkus and then they moved on to Second Earth.” Shawn stared at his half-empty drink for a moment before speaking again. “Because our carrier was on the far side of the Grix system, I didn’t hear about it for nearly two months.”
She again reached her hand across the table, surprising herself by grasping Shawn’s hand. When her fingers closed around his, she lowered her voice and stared into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Shawn. That’s…that’s terrible.”
He took another drink. “Tell me about it.”
“What did you do then?”
“What could I do? The war was over, Second Earth was sealed off, and Drakkus became a very disgruntled planetary system. By the time I’d gotten halfway there to look for her myself, the Drakins had separated from the Unified Collaboration of Systems, and I wasn’t allowed within a light-year of the planet. Case closed,” he said with finality. “Game over.”
“Is it? Is it really? Because now that I’ve witnessed how you treated Vross and what led to it, I have to wonder if it’s really closed for you.”
He took a final sip. “She’s gone.”
“But you don’t know that for sure…or you don’t believe it.”
“I believe what I like,” he said, using anger in an attempt to put a stop to her line of reasoning.
She looked around, checking to see if anyone was watching. Fortunately, they were quite segregated from the rest of the restaurant patrons and had their corner completely to themselves. “Nevertheless, whatever you believe, we’ll be leaving for Second Earth first thing in the morning, and I don’t want your reservations or hesitations clouding the mission.”
“My reservations?” he spat back, pulling his hand from hers and leaning over the table to glare at her. “My hesitations? Let me tell you something, lady. I’ve never let them affect whatever mission I had to do before.”
“Shawn, quiet down. Your voice is carrying.”
“No, I won’t quiet down. You know, I’ve had it up to here with your questions and your bossy attitude.”
“Well you’ll just have to deal with it, mister, because I am the boss here!” Melissa instantly regretted saying the words.
Shawn jumped from his chair, so quickly that the piece of furniture ejected behind him. “I don’t even know why I bother. Seriously, can you tell me just what in the name of all that is holy gives you the right to—”
A large hand put a firm grip on Shawn’s shoulder and spun him around in midsentence. The hand was attached to a rather imposing Jidoian, so muscular that he seemed to have muscles on top of his muscles. “Calm down, mister, or I’ll have to throw you out,” the apelike bouncer grumbled.
Shawn had no idea what came over him, or why he said it, but the words, “Who’s gonna make me?” came out before he knew what had happened. The burly Jidoian placed another hand on Shawn’s shoulder, then used his third hand to poke a finger into Shawn’s chest.
“I will, little man.”
Shawn, with all his might, reached back and tried to punch the Jidoian. Despite his imposing bulk, the alien moved far faster than he had expected. Caught off balance, Kestrel flew helplessly as the bouncer tossed him across the room, and he landed squarely on his backside.
Melissa rushed to his side and attempted to help him back to his feet. “You’ve had too much to drink, Commander,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. “We need to get you back to the ship.”
“Not before I teach this guy a lesson,” Shawn yelled, tearing free of Melissa’s grasp, then lurching headfirst into the Jidoian’s stomach.
That was when everything went black.
When Shawn regained consciousness, he had no idea where he was, nor how he’d gotten there. Through foggy eyes he could see that the lighting of the room was different than the restaurant he’d been in, and he briefly wondered if he’d been pulled into a closet somewhere off to the side of the dining area. It wasn’t until he saw Trent’s face come into view above his head that he tried to speak. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the detention center, Captain Punchy-Bags.”
Realizing he was lying on an uncomfortable cot, Shawn spun his feet over the side of it and sat up slowly. Except for Trent, Shawn was the only person in the cell. He briefly wondered where Melissa was, only to see her round the corner outside his cell and step up to the fortified door. It slid open effortlessly before her. “I’ve secured your release, but it wasn’t easy.”
“What happened?” Shawn asked, attempting to vigorously rub away the splitting headache that was threatening to tear his skull in two.
She sighed heavily. “We can talk about that later. Right now, we need to get you back to your ship and off this station.”
“Didn’t we just get here?” Shawn asked halfheartedly.
“It seems we’ve overstayed our welcome.” She smiled faintly and grabbed his right arm as Trent grabbed his left. They hefted the lieutenant commander to his feet and helped him navigate the corridors outside the security office.
“How far away is D?” Shaw
n slowly asked.
“Not far,” Trent offered. “About ten minutes. Maybe forty-five if I have to keep dragging you around.”
“I think…I can make it on my own.” Shawn gently broke free from their respective grasps and closed in on the nearest lift. As the three entered and the magnetic lift doors shut, he turned to Melissa with an apologetic look. Before he could speak, he teetered backward until he rested against the lift wall, then slowly slid down until he was on his backside. “I’m…really sorry about that.”
She shifted her eyes to him and then looked back at the closed doors as the module began its slow descent. “Don’t worry about my feelings, Commander. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about having to explain all this to Captain Krif when we get back to the Rhea.”
“Oh, God,” Shawn called out helplessly from the floor. “Dick knows?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course he knows. Just…not everything.”
“Well, what doesn’t he know, then?”
“He knows you were in a fight at a restaurant…and that you lost.”
“Does he know I started it?”
Melissa rolled her eyes, refusing to further address the man while he was seated on the lift floor. She reached down and helped Shawn back to his feet. “I see your memory is coming back in spades, Commander.”
“Painfully, too.”
Her disapproving scowl turned into a half smile. “I told the captain that you were protecting my honor. I informed him that several men had tried to manhandle me, and you attempted to intervene.”
“So that’s a ‘no,’ then.”
“Exactly.”
“What about Vross?”
She looked back at Shawn and smiled. “I’m pretty sure I neglected to mention anything about that to him. I suggest you do the same.”
“An order?”
“Do I need to make it one?”
“Please, no,” he rubbed at his forehead “I don’t think I could handle it. Let’s just say we agree on it, okay?”
“Can someone please tell me what I missed?” Trent asked in annoyance from behind the two of them.
“I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to the ship,” Melissa offered with a gentle pat to Trent’s shoulder.
Icarus Page 11
