Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (75 page)

A
day later they spotted a pair of battered, battle-blackened pirate
cruisers
which passed at a distance great enough for the Freedom to be
invisible to them, but close enough for the Freedom's sensors to be
able to see them quite clearly. It would have been possible for the
Freedom to steal close enough for a quick fighter strike that would
incapacitate or even destroy them, but the Freedom was on a mission.
They were going home.

Two
days later came the biggest event since their departure from
Tonturin
Spindle Spaceport... the birth of Colton Thomas Steele.

NORTHERN
UNITED STATES:
FROSTY
RECEPTION

The
northern half of the United States was blanketed in a late winter
storm,
the
kind Mother Nature saves up for. It always seems the worst snows
came in the death throes of winter, when it refused to give way to
the passage of time and yield the coming of spring. If that wasn't
severe enough, the broadcaster on the Late News announced, the
Arctic cold and heavy snow was causing rolling brown-outs around the
Great Lakes where the storm was the worst.

The
Chicago area was covered in over twelve inches of fresh snow and
the
storm was dumping more with no sign of letting up. The plow crews
would have their hands full in the morning.

The
Invader was a cross between a shuttle and a gunship. Smaller
than
a shuttle, it was faster, heavily armored, well armed and specially
designed for forays into hostile or unknown territory, it would hold
a crew of three and ten troops or passengers. Presently it held
five, Jack, Brian, Mike, Paul and Alité... six if you counted
Fritz, down through the clouds over Lake Michigan. Its dark form and
sharp menacing angular lines gave it a particularly evil look.

"Man,
this stuff is thicker than pea soup." Jack leaned forward
and adjusted the range of his forward sensor sweep pattern. “I
can't see a damn thing...” he was flying on instruments and 3D
image mapping only.

"I
sure wouldn't want to be flying a regular bird in this stuff,"
said Brian from the copilot's seat.

Jack
looked out the cockpit window at the stubby wings covered in
ice. "We'd drop like a stone..." he commented. The Invader
was flying on a combination of standard flight principles and anti
gravity. The wings and tailfins were more for steerage in atmosphere
than anything else.

"You'll
drop free of the clouds in twenty seconds," announced Mike
from
the navigation and sensor station behind Jack.

"Any
air traffic?"

"None.
Even looks like O'Hare's socked in."

"Good."
Jack pulled the Invader's nose up and level only about a
thousand
feet from the surface of the partly frozen lake and nudged the
throttles forward. The shoreline was barely visible through the
densely falling snow as they flashed over the northern Chicago
suburb of what Jack guessed to be Winnetka. A rolling brown-out
followed the Invader along the coastline like a strange shadow,
streetlights flickering off then back on again as it passed.

The
lights of downtown Chicago suddenly appeared through the swirls
of
white and Jack yanked the throttles back and dropped the speed
brakes, banking the Invader through a right hand turn. Fritz braced
himself against Brian's seat to keep from sliding.
At
a quarter to three in the morning, parts of the downtown area as
well
as its famous
Rush
Street
nightclub district, went momentarily dark. Party-goers experienced
only a momentary inconvenience as the Invader moved on.

The
Invader reached the northwestern Chicago neighborhoods in an
amount
of time that seemed miniscule to Jack. He always remembered Chicago,
where he'd grown up, to be an expansive city. It seemed so small
now. He cut the power to the main engines, leaving the warmers on
and maneuvered on the anti-grav system only. Reducing the power to
the system, he dropped the craft to a height of about two hundred
feet and coasted over the houses at about forty miles an hour.
Between the blanket of white and the falling snow, he had to look
carefully so as not to miss the landmarks he sought. "There it
is..." he pulled back on the stick and the Invader slowed.
"Anybody awake down there?"

Paul
was watching the
Red
Eagle
the 3D ground-mapping infrared
scanning
system. "There was a vehicle parked on the street you just
passed that had a strong signal, looked like there was someone in it
too..."

■ ■ ■

The
two Colombian men sitting in the four wheel drive Blazer parked
down
the street from the Steele residence were arguing when the engine
quit running.

"I
don't care
what
you say, we don't need to be here! Who the hell
would
go
anywhere
in
this
weather?"

"Look
said the other, Marcus says we sit here so we sit here. Do
you
want to explain to Mr. Vasquez why we didn't stay all night?"

The
first man looked at his watch. "But it's
three
in the morning!
It's
snowing like the North Pole and this character's been missing over a
year. If he
ever
showed up, which he won't, it wouldn't be tonight!"

When
the truck's engine sputtered and died, so did the conversation.
The
man behind the wheel attempted to restart it. It refused.

"What's
wrong?"

"How
the hell should I know?" said the man behind the wheel. "Do
I
look
like a mechanic to you?"

"I
don't care what people say about America," grumped the man in
the
passenger
seat, "I hate this place, it's foul air, it's pale people...
I'd rather be back in Colombia, it's warmer. I want to go home.

The
man behind the wheel glared at his partner, "Keep whining
and
I'll send you home alright... in a box! Now shut the fuck up, you're
driving me loco!" In his anger he drove the accelerator pedal
to the floor and turned the ignition key again. The engine roared to
life and he sat back with satisfaction. "Hey! What's that?!"
He pointed upwards through the windshield.

"What?"

"That!"
He pointed more vigorously.

"I
don't see anything..." said the passenger with disinterest, his
feelings
wounded.

"Oh,"
said the driver, "I guess it's gone now." They sat in
silence
once
again except for the idling engine and the periodic
thwip,
thwip
of the windshield wipers.

■ ■ ■

"Think
they saw us?" asked Brian.

Jack
shrugged. "Not in this stuff. Anything else, Pappy?"

"Just
the houses, Jack, nothing else outside. I don't blame them
either,
it's a good night to be in bed, this weather sucks."

"Tell
me about it," he replied, "I lived here for twenty five
years."

There
was a city park a block away, with a playground, tennis courts
and
a football field. He angled for it. Rotating the ship over the ball
field to face the way he came, Steele reduced the power to the
anti-grav system and the ship descended. Brian extended the landing
gear, adjusting its height and sensors for flat unbroken terrain.
The Invader settled silently into the snow that covered the darkened
football field.

"Take
a blaster, Jack." Paul held out a hand blaster in a shoulder
holster.
It was about the size of a 9mm automatic, but almost silent when
fired, compared to the noise of a normal handgun.

"Thanks."
He slipped the rig on and donned his old leather bomber
jacket
over his uniform. If someone saw him, he didn't want to look too out
of the ordinary. The ship's door hissed as it released and a cold
blast of Chicago winter swirled through the door, snowflakes and
all.

"Ooohhh!"
squealed Alité, shivering. "What
is
that?"

"It's
snow," said Jack laughing. "Haven't you ever seen snow?"

"No..."
she said sheepishly.

"Snooowww!"
shouted Fritz as he raced past Jack. He dashed headlong
into
the whirling flakes and dove head first into a two foot snowdrift.
He popped out the other side and zoomed across the field at a speed
that would have surprised a greyhound. Throwing himself down, the
Shepherd slid on his back with his feet kicking in the air.

"I
think it's time for a rubber dog kennel," said Mike, watching
in
amazement.

"Nah,"
said Jack casually, "he does this every time he sees the first
snow..."
He zipped up his bomber jacket and hiked the collar around his ears
to block the wind.

Brian
handed him a portable comm headset. "Keep in touch."

"Right."
Jack kissed Alité and headed off. "C'mon dog," he
called
softly.
The Shepherd righted himself and bounded back.

The
only marks in the snow belonged to Jack and Fritz, the falling
flakes
quickly filling them. When they reached the street, Jack glanced
back over his shoulder but could not see the Invader through the
swirling white. He crossed the street and walked on, the fallen snow
scrunching softly beneath his boots. He stopped momentarily and
listened... it was the most silence he could remember hearing in
what seemed to be a lifetime. The falling flakes seemed to make a
gentle hushing sound as they landed.

He
remembered what Alité had relayed from Voorlak and cut
between
the
houses to avoid the vehicle Paul had spotted on the street. He would
cut through the yards and approach his parent's house from the back.

Fritz
knew this was no ordinary stroll and walked with absolute
silence
and purpose alongside his friend. All play had been left at the
football field, this was business. He paused momentarily, his
enhanced hearing picking up sounds far beyond Jack's range. There
was a vehicle with the engine running somewhere... beyond that he
heard muffled voices. He decided they were far enough away and posed
no threat, so walked on, as did Jack, taking the dog's cue.

"Hup,"
said Jack. Fritz cleared the back fence with ease and dropped
into
Jack's childhood yard. Jack followed. The streetlight on the corner
in front of his parent's house cast strange shadows through the
yard, creating a foreign and sinister landscape. He was suddenly
apprehensive, what would he say? What if they didn't live here
anymore? It was the first time he'd thought of
that
.