DJ's Mission (19 page)

Kaitlyn saw the strange look her coach gave her
and shrugged. “Just in case Roger is listening, I know he has the whole house
bugged.”

Stephanie knew that but had to play it cool.
“Really? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know and I no longer care. I’m leaving.”

“What? Why? When?”

Kaitlyn reached out and patted her coach’s arm in
a comforting move that was slightly comical. “I’m not exactly sure when but my
father is coming for me.” She nodded her head toward the babysitter ‘bot. “I
sent UR-L8 to find him and give him a message. He’s back and says that my dad
is here and gonna bust me out of this dump.”

Stephanie was so happy that she wanted to cheer or
dance or just reach over and hug the young lady but her situation wouldn’t
allow that. So, she just locked her emotions down and placed a reassuring hand
on Kaitlyn’s hand. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Kaitlyn nodded. “With all my heart. I can’t stay
here any longer. You know what it’s like around here.”

“True, but there is an old saying that goes
something like – better the devil you know than the one you don’t.”

“That sounds like something my dad would say but
in this case, leaving is my best option. I fear that if my dad doesn’t rescue
me soon, I will be dead or in jail.”

“Why would you be in jail?”

Kaitlyn reached into her waistband and pulled out
a Derringer Mk11 energy pistol. “Because if that bastard my mom married ever
touches me again, I’ll make sure he gets a chance to meet the devil.”

Stephanie was only slightly shocked at her
student’s revelation of her gun. It was more the iron in her voice which
surprised her. “Good enough for me but if I could make a suggestion…”

Kaitlyn expected her coach to chastise her or
argue or protest, anything but this calm acceptance. “Su…sure.”

“The Derringer doesn’t have a lot of punching
power. It’s best used up close and personal. Your target needs to be the soft
spots on the body. I would suggest the genitals or gut. Let him get close, pull
the gun, place it next to his skin and squeeze.”

Kaitlyn had to force herself to swallow. She was
shocked at the calm directions that her blonde coach was giving her. Although
when she thought about it more, it sounded like the kind of advice her dad
would’ve given her too. Unsure of her voice, she just nodded and tucked the gun
back into her belt.

Stephanie reached down and adjusted it slightly.
“There. If you wear it like this, it can be drawn with either hand, just in
case.” Giving her student a hug and a wink, she turned and walked out.

Stephanie had been gone for several minutes before
Kaitlyn realized that she hadn’t explained her reason for the early morning
visit. With a shrug, she turned back to her task at hand. How to fit everything
she wanted to take into one suitcase?

*   *   *   *   *

Virginia and Alex were verbally short and slightly
nasty to each other as they ate breakfast. While their tones were curt, their
fingers were flying as they scribbled messages to each other on their datapads.
As quick as one would write a question, the other would scratch it out and
write their answer.

Basically their plan was to run along the same as
yesterday. Virginia was to be flirty, scattered-brained and yet inquisitive,
while Alex would act jealous and argumentative. They had also worked out a
signal for him to turn up the argument a notch to get more attention focused on
him, so she could have more leeway.

As their escort arrived and knocked on the door, the
two Coalition officers grabbed their things, checked the settings on their
concealed guns and headed off to confront their day.

*   *   *   *   *

By the time High Councilwoman Teana Carpenter was
awake her two SWAT escorts were already moving about. They were still wearing
their SWAT tac-armor, which she suspected they had slept in, but they had
removed their helmets. They were both busy cleaning their heavy weapons on the
coffee table.

She recognized the blaster rifles as THAB Mk8s
–Tactical Heavy Assault Blasters Mark 8s. She had used older models in her time
in the FSA. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she joined her escort in the
living room portion of the suite. Neither spoke to her as she entered but both
nodded silently to her.

It was a pleasant gesture. By acknowledging her
but not speaking, it gave her the quiet time she so desperately craved in the
early mornings. For a few minutes she gazed out the fifty story window. Since
it was inside the bio-dome she couldn’t see the fabled lake or sky of Titan.
Turning her attention back to the officers, Teana couldn’t help but grin at the
short spiky hair of Ernspiker. It seemed perfect, not a hair out of place. She
reasoned that his hair style coupled with his last name was how he got the
nickname of Spike. Shifting her focus onto Spurgeon, she studied him. He had
short blondish hair, chubby cheeks and a crooked smile similar to the laughing
cartoon figure on his armor but she had no idea where he’d gotten the nickname
of Sponge Bob and was about to ask when a chime sounded at the door.

Spike stood up. “That should be your breakfast.”

Sponge Bob slid the bolt back into the receiver
with a resounding click. “Admiral Thomas’ secretary called earlier to confirm
your dinner date…I, mean…”

Even as Spurgeon’s face turned beet red, Teana
waved her hand at him. “Don’t you go worrying yourself over a slip of the
tongue, not to say that I wouldn’t bed him if given the chance but no, our boss
forbids such actions on this mission.”

Teana sighed deeply as she thought of the past and
all the operatives, foreign and domestic, she had slept with….all in the line
of duty of course.

Spike cleared his throat. “Our transport will be
here in less than an hour.”

Teana grabbed some toast, threw on the bacon,
piled on the scrambled eggs and wolfed it down like a veteran soldier. Chugging
down her coffee, she hobbled back to her room and said over her shoulder. “I’ll
be ready.”

Both SWAT officers shook their heads in amazement.
There was more to this High Councilwoman than her appearance. One thing was
certain, today promised to be an interesting day.

*   *   *   *   *

DJ was awakened by a persistent and completely
annoying chime. Blinking his eyes open, he saw the blinking light on his
helmet’s HUD that there was a secure transmission waiting for him. He eyed the
comm-codes. It was the Aetós. He hit the receive command with a combination
flick of his eye and a simple thought.

Stifling a yawn, he said, “Morning Aeolus, what’s
up?”

“Morning Staff Sergeant,” came a female’s voice.
“Although I think you have me confused with someone else.”

Hearing a different voice on the other end of the
circuit woke him up even more. “Athena, why are you contacting me? Is something
wrong with Aeolus and the Aetós?”

“Negative. The Captain instructed me to inform you
of certain complications in your region. First off, in the last six hours there
has been a flurry of traffic on the core-net concerning your cover identity.”

“I was afraid of that. It seems the Cartel had
hired the other Falcon for a hit in Confederate space.”

Athena nodded. “That would make sense. Some big
shot Confederate General got himself a killed and half the Confederate Fleet
has been mobilized to hunt down the assassin.”

“How’s our military reacting?”

Pax interrupted over the same channel. “The Second
and Third Fleet have been put on standby and the Fourth has been recalled from
Orion Nebula. The First has formed up at Wolf Three-Five-Nine and all incoming
traffic to Haven has been rerouted.”

“So, you’re saying that the next few days could
get dicey.”

DJ could hear the frustration in the android’s
voice when Athena responded. “I am saying no such thing. I was instructed to
inform you of the situation and the current status of the Fleet. I have done my
duty. Whatever you infer from this information is entirely up to you.”

DJ couldn’t help but grin. He loved baiting the
android into showing emotions. She would argue all day long that she didn’t
have them and if she did, she would purge them since emotions were illogical.
But this wasn’t the time or place for such an argument, so he let her off easy.

“Thanks Athena and Pax. Let Iaido know that
everything here is a go and scheduled for midnight tonight.”

“Affirmative,” replied Athena and after a brief
pause she added, “Good luck.” Then the circuit went dead.

DJ stretched once more and took in his
surroundings.

They had slept in the stolen skimmer after Jax had
parked it in a very public parking garage. DJ had initially thought this to be
a crazy idea but noticed that there were at least seven other skimmers of
similar make and color nearby. Jax had made the comment about hiding in plain
sight and it seemed to have worked. None of the multitude of passersby had even
given the stolen vehicle a second glance. Jax had also changed plates and
contact codes with one of the nearby skimmers, just in case. It was one of
those simple things that DJ wouldn’t have thought of or knew exactly how to do.

There came a double tap on the front glass seconds
before Jax opened the door and slid back in. “Morning. I got us some coffee and
doughnuts for breakfast.”

DJ replaced the safety on his Graver Mk7 and
holstered the weapon. Reaching up, he unclipped his Red Falcon helmet and
pulled it off. Even though he’d worn similar helmets for extended periods of
time during his stint in the service and they weren’t particularly
uncomfortable, it was always joyous to pull them off.

Jagger Jax just stared at him for a moment before
passing him the pastry and coffee. “Okay, I have to admit you’re not what I
expected.”

DJ grinned. “Truth be told, this armor is not what
I’m used to wearing. It’s still a bit strange to me.”

“From what I’ve heard, the Red Falcon has never
been seen without his armor.”

DJ nodded. “Yep.”

“But you’re unmasking for me? I’m honored.”

“Just my way of saying that I trust you,
especially considering what we will be facing later today.”

Jax grinned. “Gracias.”

“De nada… now on to business.”

As DJ began to lay out his plans, the ex-pirate
played the devil’s advocate and complicated them. Soon, they were both
spit-balling ideas and possibilities about the mission. It was actually amazing
how the two approached the upcoming OP.

Jax tended to look at it from the wrong side of
the law. His pirating and thieving days allowed him to slide around the
confines of the legal system and possibly avoid trouble. It was just another
heist to him.

DJ approached it with his military mindset, always
looking at the angles of attacks and/or avenues of retreat. He also insisted
that they worked up a GOTH – GO To Hell - plan. A backup plan for their backup
plan, the one they would fall back on if everything went wrong.

They spent the better part of the morning hammering
out the details until they were both satisfied and thoroughly familiar with
every aspect of the plan. DJ also contacted Aeolus and informed him of his
portion of the plan. When it was all said and done, all that was left was the
waiting. And every solider would tell you, that is truly the hardest part.

*   *   *   *   *

Lieutenant Ed ‘Tinman’ Brockbank check the status
board of his HUD for the tenth time in the last hour.

There were no new alerts or orders. He didn’t like
it but they had been ordered to stay hidden inside the Rings of Saturn until
otherwise commanded or a transport left Titan bound for the Pluto region. He’d
taken flak from the rest of his squad when reports came in that the 1
^st
Fleet had moved into attack formation at Wolf-359.

They all wanted to join the rest of the Fleet but
orders were orders. They were to hold this position and not break radio silence
until ordered otherwise, the transport left Titan or they were low on fuel.
Checking his fuel gauge, he did the math in his head quickly. Their Dragons
weren’t burning much energy just idling, which meant they had over 48 hours
before they were even close to having to use their reserve tanks. 

Tinman switched his radio over to the local
tac-net. Since they were using laser micro-bursts, the odds of anyone outside a
thousand meters of his flight picking up the transmission were almost nil. He
keyed his mic. “Okay team, be aware that our mission remains unchanged and we
are to hold here until otherwise ordered…and that comes all the way from the
top.”

Joey ‘Sandman’ Sanders, his second-in-command was
the first to respond but his disappointment at the orders was evident in his
voice. “Roger that LT.”

Within a matter of seconds, all seven of his Flight
responded with their confirmation and they went back to waiting for something
to happen, one way or the other. One thing every warrior learns early in his or
her career, waiting sucked.

*   *   *   *   *

When Pridgen walked back into Mocha’s he had
changed clothes and assumed his habitual scowl that was part of his bouncer
persona. He didn’t know why Kassinger was keeping him undercover at the casino.
He’s already gathered enough evidence on Mocha and a half-dozen other people in
the bar to convict them for a good long time. But he had been ordered to work
the case, so he went about his normal daily routine.

Sometime in the early afternoon, Needles came
limping in. He’d been insistent on meeting with Mocha, enough so that the
bouncers at the front door had called him.

Pridgen looked the dealer up and down. It was
obvious that he was in bad shape. His clothes were torn and filthy. His hands
and face still held traces of blood, like Needles had been in a hurry to wash
up but not very thorough. Pridgen didn’t speak for several moments. He wanted
to see how the dealer would react. Other than his right leg twitching
rhythmically, Needles seemed calm. Pridgen took one look at the dealer’s eyes
and knew that he was tweaking.