The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) (7 page)

    
“Are a good man?”

    
She raised her eyebrow in consideration.
“Are a good pilot.”

    
It wasn’t an outright apology, but if she shared the blood of William Graves,
then it was probably the best her DNA could muster under the current
circumstances. Shawn leaned back in his chair, shifting his eyes to the far
corner of the overhead as his thoughts began to wander to the past. “Don’t
worry about it,” he said absently, wondering why he had yet to kill the overly
large spider residing there. Maybe he can help pay the rent.

    
After a moment of silence between the two, Melissa sensed Shawn was lost in
thought. “Mister Kestrel?” she asked softly.

    
Echoes of the past were indeed reverberating against the walls of Shawn’s
memory. “I thought I was going to die, I thought… that was going to be it,” he
heard himself say aloud, realizing only then that the words were not just in
his mind. His eyes turned back to Melissa. “Your father… he was amazing; A real
hero. And it wasn’t just a onetime thing, and it wasn’t just
my
ass he
saved.”

    
She sensed the weight of Shawn’s turmoil behind his simple words. “He must mean
a great deal to you.”

    
The words didn’t do the man justice, not that any ever could. “More so than
most,” he responded, trying to sound aloof.

    
She nodded in understanding. “So, are you going to help me?”

    
What was he supposed to say?
I didn’t want to get into this kind of mess
again. Coming to Minos was about starting over, not about replaying the past.
I’ve done my bit for King and country, and in doing so lost everything I cared
about in this universe, so why put everything else I’ve worked so hard for in
jeopardy?
 ”I’ve got to say, this whole situation is pretty damn
confusing.”

    
She rolled her eyes at his comment. “You and I are in agreement on that point.”

    
“I haven’t seen your father in years. Why would he send you here?”

    
Melissa scowled, narrowing her brilliant green eyes at him. “It seems fairly
obvious to me, Captain.”

    
“It does, huh? Well, I must be dense, so perhaps you’ll enlighten me?”

    
She waved a hand dismissively toward the ceiling. “Sector Command isn’t out
there searching for him right now, that’s a fact. It’s just as well, too,
because my father didn’t expect they would be. Likewise, he felt that what he
was searching for was something more important than Sector Command could be
trusted with.”

    
“Or the OSI,” Shawn added, pointing back to the letters reference concerning
the Unified governments intelligence agency.

    
She shrugged away his comment. “In any event, it was important enough that he
wanted his mission to be completed—and without the knowledge of the
government.”

    
“Or there interference.”

    
She nodded in agreement.
“More than likely.”

    
“So, he sent you to me, someone with experience in dealing with Sector Command,
but who was also outside of the bureaucracy.”

    
“There, you see?” she all but clapped her hands. “It’s not so hard to figure it
out once you put a little effort into it.”

    
He scowled at her retort. However, since the jibe was spoken softly—and she’d
finished it with a disarming smile—he decided to let that one slide. The captain
shook his head, then withdrew the bottle of whisky from his desk and poured
himself a glass. The woman had an aura around her, and it flashed the word
‘trouble’ in a rainbow of colors and in three languages. I’m going to regret
this in the morning. I know it. Giving it a second thought, he produced
another glass, poured it,
then
offered it to Melissa.
“I can’t deny that I owe your father a lot.”

    
She raised the glass to her lips, giving the drink a tentative sniff. “Does
that mean you’ll help me?”

    
He raised his glass in a toast. “Well, I don’t have a clue what I’ll be able to
accomplish, but yes. I’ll do what I can.”

    
A faint smile—the first genuine one of happiness he’d seen, and
quite
and
attractive one at
that—crossed her face. “Thank you, Captain”

    
He took a sip of his drink before setting down his glass. “Let’s not get ahead
of ourselves. Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything. Besides, how do you
propose to fund this little expedition?”

    
“What do you mean?” she asked innocently, but then her face contorted into
disgust. “Are you… are you going to charge me for your assistance?”

    
The thought has more then crossed my mind.
 
”No.
No, of course not.
 I mean… well, yes.
In a manner of speaking.”

    
She leveled her eyes at him as if she was a bull about to charge on his
position. “You’ve got ten seconds to make up your mind before I do something I
regret.”

    
Despite a vague curiosity, in the end Shawn decided he didn’t want to know what
that meant. “What I mean is, no, I’m not going to charge you, per say. But,
there is going to be a cost for supplies, food,
fuel
…
those sorts of thing.”

    
She waved her hand facetiously. “Don’t concern yourself over trivial things
like credits, Mister Kestrel. Focus on the job of finding my father.”

    
“Wearing expensive clothes like that,” he said gesturing to her outfit, “it
might be trivial to you, but I’m not sure you understand the expensive nature
of space travel.”

    
She momentarily looked down to her dress before looking back to him. “Is there
something wrong with my clothes?”

    
She obviously didn’t get it. Why do rich girls have to be this way?
With all
there
money and their superior education,
you’d think they could afford to get a clue.
 ”Forget I said anything.”

    
She shrugged, apparently content to do just that. She reached into her bag and
produced another letter. “
Here.
I received this last
month.”

    
Shawn stood up and retrieved the letter, glancing at the postmark on the
envelope, “From
Felda
?”

    
“The capitol city on Corvan.”

    
“I know where it is,” Shawn replied matter-of-factly as he withdrew the letter
from the envelope and began reading.  Most of the correspondence seemed
pretty harmless. William mentioned fly fishing in a newly discovered stream,
and he wrote about the quiet nights sleeping under the stars. However, one
innocent phrase caught Shawn’s undivided attention.
“Special
projects?”

    
Melissa nodded, fixing a lock of auburn hair that had fallen in front of her
left eye yet again. “I have no idea what he was talking about there.”

    
“Hmm,” Shawn murmured, flicking at the letter gently before handing it back to
Melissa.
“Corvan.
That’s a long way to go without a
ship to get us there.”

    
She
recoiled
her head in surprise.
“But,
what about that… that
ship
in your hangar?
Please don’t tell me
it’s ornamental only.”

    
“If it’s all the same to you, Melissa, there’s—”

    
She leveled her eyes coldly at him. “It’s Miss Graves, if you please.”

    
“Fine,
Miss
 Graves. I think there are some things you need to be
made aware of about the state of my ship.”

    
Strewn across the table before Melissa were the remains of the starboard
engine, and all at once her hopes of a speedy departure were dashed to pieces.
After an initial outburst concerning her utter disgust over their current
situation, she’d decided they’d be better off formulating a plan than
complaining.

    
Shawn had scoured his collection of star charts and located a map of the
Trinity quadrant, with the Corvan system directly in its center. He pressed a
finger against the system and the image zoomed to show the only inhabitable
planet.
Felda
was a port city about fifteen miles
south-west of a major spaceport, situated on the largest
continent
on Corvan. Before the war it was a booming trade metropolis. Since then, its
popularity had drastically declined, mainly due to the fact that it was both
dangerously close to the condemned Second Earth and to Kafaran space. Melissa,
however, found no comfort in staring at the image of a system she couldn’t get
to.

    
“I’m not too happy about our destination’s location, if you get my drift?”
Shawn then pointed to the wavering line that marked the ill-defined border of
Kafaran space. While the border had never been formally established after the
war, it was true that no ship or probe had ever ventured past that point and
returned to tell about it. And Corvan was only three light years from it.

    
“I understand that, Mister Kestrel. However, I’m sure a man of your piloting
prowess can get us there with no problems.”

    
“It’s not my abilities I’m concerned about. It’s the natives.”

    
“Oh, be sensible. We haven’t heard a stitch from the Kafaran’s in years, Mister
Kestrel, and I doubt our journey to Corvan will stir up a galactic incident.”

    
“Let’s assume for a second your right, and that’s a big assumption, mind you.
Sure, I could get us there, but my ship isn’t going anywhere. I’ve got a busted
engine, and that means no go. Now, I want to help you, I really do, but I’m
grounded until we can get the parts we need.”

    
Her expression was the exact opposite of joy. “You’re trying to tell me that
you operate one of the only interplanetary transportation services in these
islands and you don’t carry spare parts for your solitary vessel?”

    
“We only make a finite amount of money here. I don’t have enough credits to
have spare parts for every conceivable problem I could have with this ship. I
certainly don’t account for space pirates, but I’m thinking about starting.
Besides, even if I did have the parts, where would I keep them? This isn’t
exactly a storage depot you know?”

    
She looked up despondently; convinced that somehow the universe was intent on
working against her at every turn. “Unacceptable.”

    
“It’s worked so far.”

    
Her simmering frustration suddenly boiled over. “Well, it doesn’t work right
now, Captain!”

    
Shawn put his hands to his hips. “Unless you have some kind of magical way to
produce a wad of credits that you haven’t told me about, we’re grounded for at
least two weeks or until less expensive units arrive from the borderlands. Or,
like you said earlier, should I just not worry about it?”

    
“So, you’re telling me someone on this God-forsaken plot of soil has the parts
you need, and all you’re waiting for is the credits to purchase them?”

    
“Yep, that’s what I’m saying,” Shawn agreed with a smile and a nod. “Once we
have the parts in our hands, Trent can get us into space within a few hours.
And of course, I still have another shipment that needs to get to the Port of
Welga on Persephone before we can begin to think about going anywhere else.”

    
Truth be told, she considered the fact that she didn’t have the same regard for
credits that most people had. To her, they were simply a tool for getting
something done, and there had never been a point she could recall where not
having enough of them had been an issue. “You’d really put a cargo shipment
over finding my father?”

    
“The owner of the cargo made it pretty clear that I need to make this shipment
in order to live. I can’t be of much help to you if I’m dead and, considering
the value I place on my own life, I think we’d both be better off just getting
the job done.”

    
This is why I never leave the Core Worlds anymore
, she thought with
frustration.
“How much?”

    
Trent, who up to this moment had sat unobtrusively in the corner, turned to
look out at the stack of weapons. “Sixty crates.”

    
“No, not how much cargo!
I meant how much money?” She
watched with annoyance as the two men exchanged looks, holding an entire
conversation with mixed facial expressions. It seemed neither one of them was
going to take the plunge until Shawn spoke up.

    
“You’re the one who opened his mouth, Trent. Go ahead and tell
her.”  

    
The mechanic shrugged. “Two thousand—give or take a few odd singles.”

    
“Two thousand… credits?” she spat. “You can practically buy a new engine for
that!”

    
Shawn looked back to the table of busted engine parts. “We don’t need a whole
new engine. We only need a few parts, and they do have what we need.”

    
Melissa looked to the two men in astonishment, then reached down and began to
rifle through the leather bag slung over her shoulder. “This isn’t a legitimate
business; this is piracy,” she mumbled to herself. After a moment she produced
a stack of gleaming credits held together by an elastic band. She tossed it
onto the desk in front of Shawn. “There you are. No more excuses. Fix your ship
and let’s go.”

    
The glint of the credits whirling through the air had caught Trent’s utmost
attention. “That’s a lot of dough,” he sighed with desire and then shot
Melissa’s bag a desperate look. “That must have been one fat piggy bank before
you broke it open.”

    
She narrowed her eyes at the scruffy mechanic. “I’ve been saving for a rainy
day.”

    
The captain smiled, but Melissa wasn’t entirely sure why. She watched as he
slowly leaned forward and picked up the silvery stack,
then
quickly tossed it to Trent as if it were a hot potato. “Call Jacques and tell
him we’re on our way. Then go and get the skimmer ready.”