Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (36 page)

BOOK: Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2)
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Nothing found so far.”

Jack sighed. “OK... keep me up to date.” The earpiece chirped again as the connection ended. Things seemed to be getting stranger, more complicated and he didn't like the fact that nothing seemed to have a pattern. There was no trail and there didn't seem to be any clues as to what brought them to the current situation. He was thinking like a cop again, analyzing a crime, but he had a handful of puzzle pieces with no matching edges. His little voice was trying to say something but he couldn't quite make it out yet. Which he found annoying because on most occasions it was pretty clear. As odd as it sounded, sometimes he thought better when he wasn't thinking about it. “OK dog, let's go get some shuteye; I'm going to have a busy day when we get there.”

 

■ ■ ■

 

When Alité entered the darkened Captain's quarters, Jack was napping on the couch in the salon, the view screen playing a soft beach scene with waves rolling in and out, the sun setting. Their son Colton was asleep on his chest and Fritz lay curled up on the floor next to them. Though he lay motionless, the Shepard's eyes were open, aware the moment the door moved. She smiled at them and Fritz's tail thumped appreciatively on the floor, eyeing her as she moved quietly through the suite.

Jack opened his eyes when she lifted the sleeping infant off of his chest and out of his arms. “Hi,” he whispered.


Hi,” she whispered in reply. “We're in orbit.”


Huh?”


Around Veloria. We're in orbit.”


Oooh,” he groaned, swinging his legs off the couch. It seemed like he had just fallen asleep a few seconds ago, his mind still groggy. “Did they find the station?”


I don't think so,” she replied, laying Colton in his crib. He stirred momentarily but slid right back into his dreamworld. “I don't think they've found anything at all in the system. It's completely empty.”


Yeah, that's been bothering me,” he leaned his head forward, rolling it to crack his neck. “When we don't see anything in an empty system, it doesn't bother me much, but here... it's giving me the creeps.” His little voice was chattering again, but he wished it would say something intelligible. “Well, I guess I'd better get going, I have a meeting to attend.” He rose unceremoniously from the couch and picked his hybrid .45 pistol and holster off the end table, slinging it around his waist.

She put her arms around him and kissed him. “I want to go too.”

He shrugged, “Sure if you want to. Probably going to be boring though, we're going to cover the patrol notes and check our gear...”

She stared into his eyes. “No, to the surface...”

“Oh,
hell no!
No way... You're staying here where I know you're safe...”


But...”


No,” he shook his head, watching her eyes water, “absolutely not. We have no idea what went on, or what
is
going on down there. I'm gonna have enough to worry about without having to worry about you.”


But this is my home, I can help you...”


You can help me by staying here, where it's safe,” he countered, watching the tears stream down her face. “Look...” he took a deep breath, “if, and that's a big if, we can determine it's safe for you to come down, then it's fine with me. But I'm not letting you go down into a possible war zone. Clear?”

She nodded, “Clear.”

He looked around, “Now, dammit, where did I put my earpiece...?”


You're wearing it,” she giggled, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

 

■ ■ ■

 

Steele had a brief meeting with Walt and some of the senior bridge staff before heading down to the flight bay to meet up with the Marines and the pilots. He wanted to cover some situational variables, some possible or probable scenarios and a few ideas for handling unforeseen circumstances, discussing what their collective responses might be to those various what-ifs. The real truth though is, there was no plan flexible enough, broad enough or detailed enough that could cover every possibility. You could plan for those general, predictable
uh-oh
moments, but when it came right down to it, more often than not, the best response was a
seat of the pants
,
something is better than nothing
,
Hail Mary
shot, that pulled your ass out of the fire. But everybody felt better when there was a plan, even though they weren't worth spit when the shit hit the fan.

Although there was a flight of four Cyclones already out on patrol, the flight bay was a flurry of activity with three shuttles sitting off on the port side of the flight deck, one from each ship, assault gear stacked around each one. The Freedom's lone remaining Zulu was coming up on the lift from the deck below, fitted for the mission with a selection of ground capable equipment and armament.

Though it was well beyond its capacity, the best place for the meeting was the briefing center at the base of the flight tower. Filled with pilots and a ten-man squad of Marines from each of the three ships in the task force, it was standing room only to review the reconnaissance information from the patrol flights. Jack made his way through the crowd, moving to the front of the room where Commander Paul Smiley waited to conduct the initial part of the meeting. “Pappy...” he nodded, sitting in the only available seat in the front row.


Skipper...” he acknowledged, lighting the vidscreen behind him at the front of the darkened room. “OK, boys and girls, let's get started, we have a lot to cover...” The room grew quiet and whether standing or sitting, all eyes were on the images displayed on the video playback. “Veloria is a Class 014 type planet, with a circumference of 17,025 miles and a reported population of about two billion people. Mean average temperature is a very comfortable seventy-six degrees across her three main continents. All water on the planet is what is commonly called fresh water, and unless polluted in some fashion, is generally safe to drink.”

The images behind him faded from one to another, showing views of the planet from space. “There is no moon here but there is, or rather,
should be
, a fairly sizable space station. We've been unable to find any traces of it in the Velora Prime System... and that concerns the
hell
outta me.” There were a few short chuckles scattered through the group. “Our flights did not enter the atmosphere,” he continued, “but they did make some low orbital passes...”

The subsequent images elicited some surprised responses from the group. “As you can see, we recorded some rather widespread destruction in a few of the major cities that we passed over. The best description I can come up with is a war zone... and it seems to reflect a global pattern but without boots on the ground we can't be sure the extent of the conflict or who the clashing parties are. That's where you folks come in. We didn't encounter any ground to space sensor activity, but that doesn't mean it's not down there.” He turned to Jack. “Skipper, you want to jump in here?”

Jack rose from his seat, trading places with the Commander at the podium. “Gentlemen...”

Initiated by Marine Warrant Officer Dayle Alaroot, the Freedom's Marines saluted their Captain in the most flattering way they knew how, barking the Space Marine greeting - a hefty guttural, “Aah
Woo!
Aah
Woo!
Aah
Woo!
” It was a shortened version of the attack call used by the Jalezian Timber Wolf, a particularly intelligent and fierce predator that used advanced cooperative-pack hunting tactics to conquer larger and superior prey. The bark had been adopted by the Marines nearly five centuries ago and became ingrained in the military way of life.

A Marine Sergeant off the Archer leaned close to Dayle Alaroot, “Is he a Marine?” he whispered.

Dayle shook his head almost imperceptibly, “No, but he damn well fights like one...”


Aah
Woo!
” replied Jack. “Thank you Marines.” The next image on the vidscreen was a map of the proposed landing area, an Air and Space Port about thirty clicks southeast of Veloria's capital city. “We don't have any reconnaissance on this area or the capitol. But we're hoping if there is a surviving stronghold, the capitol would be it. We're going to take and secure the Air and Space Port first, before striking out toward the capitol. We'll be going in at night, and we're going in slow...” A light wave of groans filtered through the group. “I know, I know,” he said holding up his hand. “But if they really don't have any sensor capabilities, we'd only be illuminating our arrival by going in hot.” He switched images on the screen showing the ocean between the continents. “We'll come in over the ocean on the equator and flying nap of the terrain, we'll head northwest to the landing zone.”


What if we encounter birds in the air or ground to air?”


Good question,” replied Steele. “There will be one flight of four fighters flying with the task force, another flight flying escort with our shuttles and a third flying high cover that can assist either of their sister flights. A fourth flight will be available for immediate launch if needed.” The image on the screen went back to the Air and Space Port map. “We will be landing in the spots you see marked on the map, converging on the main terminal...”


What if we encounter resistance?”

Steele paused and looked up from his notes, scanning the group. “You're Marines. What the hell do you
normally
do when someone shoots at you...?”


Aah
Woo!
” was the group reply, obviously appreciating his answer.


What's our ultimate objective, sir?”


To find out why Veloria has fallen off the UFW communications grid and get them back on line if possible. There was no warning to my knowledge, and it was some time before the UFW Directorate decided to investigate, so a considerable amount of time has passed. We have no way of knowing what has transpired since then. This might be a rebellion, an invasion, natural disaster... we need to go in eyes open.”


Isn't Veloria run by a monarchy?”

Jack stepped out from behind the podium. “Yes it is. An absolute monarchy... for the whole planet. My understanding is, that was becoming an issue of late, some rumors of rebellion were heard before their disconnect. I'm hoping we're not stepping into a civil war...”

“If we are?”


That call is beyond my pay grade,” he joked. “We'll have to address that when we come to it...
if
we come to it.” He looked around the darkened room illuminated only by the images on the big screen behind him. “Any other questions?” He waited but there didn't seem to be anything additional. “OK, Marines, gear up... Aah
Woo!


Aah
Woo!
” It was a pretty satisfying response, fairly unified and not just limited to the Freedom's Marines.


I need the pilots to stay for a few more minutes, please,” called Steele, “there are a few more things I want to cover...”

The Marine Sergeant off the Archer filed out of the tower behind Dayle Alaroot, “He keeps saying,
we
, like
he's
going to be down there risking his ass with the rest of us,” he grumbled.

Dayle looked back over his shoulder, “That's because
he is.

The Sergeant's face screwed into a look of distaste, “I don't count flying escort on our shuttles...”

Dayle halted, whirling around, the other Marine almost bumping into him. “Let me stop you before you say something stupid, Sergeant. That man will be dressed in the same armor as we are, standing on the same dirt, carrying the same gear.”


Why would a zoomie trade a nice safe, clean cockpit for slogging around in the mud with us? It doesn't make a whole lot of sense.” They started walking again. “Is he crazy?”

Dayle did something that combined a shrug and a nod. “Yeah. Maybe. A little...”

 

■ ■ ■

 

Hitting the locker room after reviewing a few mission details with the pilots, Steele had changed from his uniform to his 2ndSkyn, combat pants and boots before heading out across the deck to the ramp of the shuttle, his hybrid 1911 strapped to his hip. He struggled with the armor, attempting to adjust it to sit on his shoulders comfortably.

“Hold on, Skipper, let me help you with that.” Dayle Alaroot adjusted the buckle mechanisms to get the front and back of the torso to fit together properly then lifted the whole thing by the arm holes. “Relax...” he let it drop and it slid into place, fitting like a glove. “There you go.”


Man that's snug...”


It needs to be for the armor to work properly and so it doesn't shift around on you if you're running or something. You'll get used to it.” He handed Steele the thigh, knee and shin armor. “Don't forget these.”

BOOK: Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2)
5.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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