Icarus
Page 23
“Trent didn’t do it.”
“Fine, hotshot. All you have to do is prove it.”
“You know damn well I can’t do that right now.”
“Then he stays in the brig until you can produce a reason for him to not be there. Simple.”
Melissa tentatively reached for Shawn’s forearm, but he quickly shrugged her off. “I’m gonna live to prove you wrong, Dick.”
“Take it down a notch, Kestrel. If he’s as innocent as you say he is, then he won’t have a single blemish on his record to show he was ever in custody. If, however, I find out otherwise, he’ll be punished to the fullest extent of Unified law. So until either of those happens, why don’t you start by giving me a full debriefing of what you do know, and for now, we can leave this spy business to the ship’s security.”
Shawn took his hands off Krif’s desk and stepped back, effectively handing the briefing over to Melissa.
She proceeded to relay everything the duo had learned from Captain Taggart’s log file, not withholding a single detail. Krif spent the entire time listening without moving a muscle or uttering a word. When she was done, he leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily.
“So it looks like Second Earth will have to be our next stop.”
Melissa had expected this. “What about Corvan?”
“You mean what about your father?”
Melissa didn’t reply.
Krif’s eyes narrowed. “Based on the captain’s log, which I will verify myself before I make a final decision, Second Earth has been compromised and plundered by Sector Command forces for some unknown reason. I suspect it has something to do with your father, and it definitely has something to do with our missing fleet. So that will be our first objective. We’ll go on from there to Corvan, or wherever the clues lead us.”
“The last fleet that went to Second Earth never returned,” she said evenly.
“We have more information now than they did,” the captain replied succinctly.
“I’m not sure that will give us enough of an edge, Captain. If it was the Kafarans…if they have the power to utterly decimate an entire battle group…then what chance will the Rhea really stand? We’re one ship!”
“That shows what you know. I’ve sent out a communiqué to rendezvous with two destroyers and a pair of cruisers that are already en route. We’ll link up two parsecs from Second Earth and then head in together.”
“And what about the little problem of having the clearance needed to go to Second Earth in the first place? I assume you’ll want some form of authority to back you up?”
“That will come from you, or from the Director himself at your request, since I doubt you hold the ability to make such a monumental request on your own.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do, Captain.”
“I probably would. That’s the problem with you OSI. You’re like rats. You’re hard as hell to corner because you think you’re slick. Well, you’re running around inside my little maze now, missy, as is any other spy aboard this ship. Sooner or later it will all come crashing down, and I’ll be there to spring the trap.”
“You’re a good one for speeches, Captain.”
“And you’re a good one for getting into trouble. Both of you are, in fact. I’ve set up a secured communications link in the next room just for you to contact the Director of Intelligence. Before you do that, however, I’ll take that vid-recorder of the captain’s log. My personal log may even overlook the fact that you initially viewed it without me being present, but don’t hold your breath on that one.”
“It’ll take at least two full days for a message to get to him and for him to send a response back.”
“And the further away we get from Darus Station the longer it will take, so I suggest you get cracking on that message. At full speed, and calculating for the two jumps we’ll have to make, it’ll take us about a week to get to Second Earth. I expect you both to make the best of your time here—and try to keep out of my face until then.”
Shawn gave Krif a mock salute. “Yes, sir.” He then turned to Melissa. “Let’s get out of here.”
Melissa glared at Krif, who only sneered in her direction. “With pleasure, Commander.”
*
“Commander Kestrel, please report to your quarters immediately. Repeat: Commander Shawn Kestrel, please report to your quarters immediately.”
The voice had quickly dissolved any chance Shawn and Melissa had at a peaceful conversation over a warm meal. In fact, they had hardly spoken at all since they’d arrived back from their experiences on board the Icarus. From Krif’s cabin, the two had made their way in relative silence down to the officers’ galley, only to be interrupted by the request that had been piped over the shipwide intercom.
When the automated message had played once more, Melissa looked at Shawn in confusion. “What do you suppose that’s all about?”
“I don’t know,” Shawn replied as he tried to rub away a newly forming headache. “I’d better go check it out.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said as she began to rise from her chair, but was stopped when Shawn placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s probably nothing,” he said confidently. “Besides, you need to get something to eat and you need to rest. You’ve had a pretty big day.”
Melissa smiled, recalling vaguely what Shawn had done for her on board the Icarus. “I guess I did,” she acknowledged as she slid her bottom back onto the cushion. “But so did you.”
“All in a day’s work.” Shawn got up and put his flight jacket back on. He stepped to her side, then looked down at her until she turned her eyes up to meet his. He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be in touch.”
She smiled up at him. “You’d better be, mister.”
When Shawn arrived at his quarters ten minutes later, he was greeted by the site of three armed Marines standing in the passageway outside his door. As he cautiously neared them, he saw that his cabin door was stuck in the open position. After presenting his IDENT card to one of the Marines, he was allowed to pass into his cabin unhindered.
The ship’s first officer, Commander Odaka Ashdoe, was there waiting with two members of the Rhea’s security team. Ashdoe, a well-built, chestnut-colored giant of a man from Niran VIII, stood with his enormous four-fingered hands clasped tightly behind his eight-foot-tall frame. The security officers, completely foreign to Shawn, were busily looking over the remains of Shawn’s wall-mounted security safe.
“Lieutenant Commander Kestrel,” Ashdoe began, his smooth, baritone voice concise. “At approximately 1530 hours, Damage Control Central was notified of an explosion in your quarters. As you can no doubt deduce, the blast originated from the location of your safe.”
Shawn once again looked to the security personnel, who were taking surface samples from the charred outer edges of the safe. The door, or what was left of it, was hanging loosely on a single hinge. 1530? I was still on board the Icarus then. Whoever did this must have known that. Shawn turned his head back toward Ashdoe.
“Someone forced it open?”
Ashdoe grunted his acknowledgement. “Preliminary evidence does point to that hypothesis. However, I’m hesitant to speculate without more facts.”
“Of course, Commander,” Shawn nodded slowly. It was a well-known fact that Niranians were lovers of knowledge; a race who treated facts and statistics as a five year old might worship a handful of candy.
“I will require a full inventory of what was in the safe, Lieutenant Commander.”
“There was nothing inside?” Shawn asked, although he already knew what the answer was likely to be. Anyone with gumption enough to break into his quarters and then gain access to his safe wouldn’t be picky and take only what they needed. Shawn quickly recalled the inventory. The two thousand Unified credits would be replaceable; he was far from concerned over those. Fortunately, he had thought to make backup copies of all the data contain
ed in the holographic cubes, as well as digital copies of the classified files, and had placed them in a hidden alcove inside Sylvia’s Delight—one not even known to Trent Maddox. The small golden key, etched with the number 0218, was still safely in his pocket. Was it the spy? If the credits still existed, Shawn would have wagered them on that fact.
One thing was glaringly certain: whoever had broken into his safe now knew everything Shawn did. The only thing stopping him from panicking was the fact that he still had the mysterious golden key. He also had the one undeniable asset of this mission on his side: Agent Melissa Graves.
Ashdoe sighed heavily. Due to his impressive bulk, Shawn half-expected the supply of air in the compartment to be evacuated in the process. “There are some small fragment remains, but nothing of considerable size. The interior of the safe is relatively undamaged.”
“Sounds like they knew what they were doing.”
A reverberating grunt once again emanated from the Commander. “And what they were looking for. I’ll be waiting with understandable anticipation on that inventory, Lieutenant Commander Kestrel. Theft or destruction of classified materials must be immediately reported, as I’m sure you are aware. However, bearing in mind the fact that we arrived here before you did, you may consider such a report filed.”
Shawn leveled his eyes at Ashdoe. How did the first officer know that classified materials were in there in the first place? Was it just an assumption? That would be exceedingly hard to believe, giving his species’ proclivity toward facts. “I’ll do that, Commander.”
Ashdoe slowly nodded his large, clean-shaven head. “These quarters are now considered a crime scene. Until we can determine the perpetrators, you will not be allowed to return without an armed escort. I have taken the liberty of permanently assigning you quarters on deck eight. I suggest you take the next few moments to gather up what little belongings you have. One of the Marines outside will show you to your new stateroom.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Shawn said courteously. “That was very considerate of you.” Very thoughtful, indeed. Not to mention convenient. After all, if his current quarters were under surveillance, his new cabin would no doubt be outfitted with even more sensitive recording devices. Someone desperately wanted to be on the same page as Shawn and Melissa, and Kestrel had a good idea of who that might be.
Grabbing a small bag from underneath his bed, Shawn quickly moved about his cabin and gathered his meager belongings. As he stepped back into the passageway and greeted the Marines standing there, he turned one final time to regard his cabin, and found his eyes locked with Commander Ashdoe’s. With his forehead furrowed, the Niranian nodded his large head once just before the doors to Shawn Kestrel’s former compartment closed abruptly.
…to be continued.
About the Author
Born and raised in Southern California, Stephen A. Fender joined the Navy at the age of 18. During his last deployment in 1999, he decided to take up the keyboard and write his first story. Having spent ten years of his professional life as a mechanic, he changed gears several years ago and now works as a software developer. During that time, he’s produced seven novels.
Stephen lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife, where he enjoys boating, hiking, camping, playing music and spending time with his wonderful family.
Icarus is his second novel.
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www.StephenFender.com
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