Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (43 page)

“You want my fruit cup?” asked Alité, quietly.

Sitting almost shoulder to shoulder, they were leaning against two sides of the same pillar. Looking over, Jack raised one eyebrow, “Are we talking about food, or something else?”

She held up her meal's fruit cup, “My
fruit cup...
” she said disdainfully, the corner of her mouth curling up.

“
Oh, because they're both pretty sweet,” he teased quietly, cracking a wry smile. She didn't speak, instead, continued to hold it in front of him, unblinking, trying not to smile. “Are you sure?” he asked more seriously. “It's like the only edible thing in this meal...” he took it from her hand and she pursed her lips to blow him a kiss.

“
So that explains most of the crap that happened on the surface, Skipper,” said Dayle, “but what happened on the station?”

“
Nobody down here knows,” said Steele, opening the fruit cup. “My best guess is sabotage. Whomever the instigators on the ground were with had agents on the station. It was the only connection Veloria had off-planet. When the station went down, they dropped off the UFW grid...”

“
No distress call? No nothing? That's pretty unbelievable...”

Steele nodded, “Agreed. Unless it was orchestrated espionage, a coordinated attack of some kind.”

“Cut communications first.”

“
Exactly,” replied Jack. “What I don't get is that there were no calls for assistance from Veloria during the revolution to try and save... well, whatever was left. Why didn't they put out a distress call as soon as the shit went down?”

“
That's not a revolution,” commented Dayle, “that's overthrowing a government. This was all planned in advance...”

“
If that's true, and I think it is, the timing was exceptionally well staged. Doctor Marconus was saying that communication from the surface and the station were severed almost immediately when things broke out, including local communications and power. About four to six weeks in, when the military and Peacekeepers were eliminated, is when things got really bad and people fled in mass. He said that's about the same time the station came down.”

Dayle shook his head. “This goes beyond the planet, Skipper. This is
way
bigger. It
has
to be.”

“
Think someone in the UFW could be in on it...?”

Dayle stared for a moment his mouth open, thinking. “I don't know... I don't think so. Why would you ask that?”

Jack stuffed the wrapper from his meal into its bag, “I don't know, it just seems kinda sloppy that a planet on a main trade route falls off the communications grid and they wait months before deciding to investigate it?” He shook his head, “Just doesn't sound right in my book.”

“
Meh,” shrugged the Marine, “the higher-ups do stuff all the time that doesn't make sense to us little people... Fact is, you're the first gold-braid I've ever met that didn't have his head up his ass...”

Steele cracked a smile, “I'll take that as a compliment...”

“As intended.”

“
Don't forget,” added Jack, “you have to stop thinking like a grunt. You're an officer now; you have your own gold braid.”

“
Shit...”

■ ■ ■

Mike, Brian and Derrik were in the Freedom's galley, drinking coffee over their e-Pads as they compared patrol notes, when Paul walked in and sat down at their table. One of the food porters behind the counter smiled when he caught her eye and brought him a cup of coffee, pot in hand to refresh the others who had been there a while. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” she asked, after topping off all the cups.

“
I think we're good,” replied Paul. She nodded and walked away, leaving the senior flight officers to discuss their business. The Commander stirred sugar and cream into his coffee. “Anybody see Jack's report this morning?” He slid his e-Pad across the table so they could sync their own and share the information.

“
No wonder I didn't notice it,” said Brian, “It's not from his e-Pad...”

“
Yeah,” agreed Paul, “it's Warrant Officer Alaroot's pad. Farther down in the report you'll see Skipper's was hit by lightning...”

“
Hit by lightning?”
said Mike, “how the hell... did
he
get hit by lightning?”

“
No. Evidently he left his pad in the truck they were using and it got zapped. They're having some seriously violent weather patterns...”

“
Understatement alert,” muttered Brian, reading the report while listening to the conversation.

“
Anyway,” continued Paul, “they've actually come in contact with some locals and it looks like much of the city might be impassable, or at least difficult to navigate. He's requesting an Invader for a ride to the other side of the city so they can check on the palace...”

“
Where are they now?” asked Mike.

“
Off the reservation,” answered Brian, still reading. “A farm about four miles east of the city.” He looked up, “Looks like Miss Alité knows the family pretty well.”

“
What time does he need the ride?”

Paul glanced at his watch, “It's still dark at their coordinates, figure about two hours.”

“I'll take it,” volunteered Brian. “I'll grab one of the newbies for the co-chair.”

“
Take Tusker,” said Derrik, “he needs some second seat time.” Brian sighed but did not speak. “What?” asked Derrik.

“
He's such a geek,” joked Brian.

Derrik sipped his coffee, “And almost top of his class in electronics and countermeasures.”

“When is that convoy due in?” asked Mike paging through reports on his e-Pad.

“
The Army engineers should be here tomorrow,” replied Paul. “It'd be nice to have a better grasp on what's going on down there before they get here. Let's see if we can speed this up. Do whatever you can, Bri.” Paul stood and up-ended his coffee cup, placing it back on the table. “Back to the bridge, I need to send what Jack has sent us so far, to the Admiral.”

■ ■ ■

Brian pulled the throttle back to the zero indent when the Invader passed over the clogged, vehicle-littered four-lane highway at three-hundred-feet, eyeing the tall, dirty spires of rubble that used to be a city off to his left. It could have been any large city on Earth after a major war and he felt a sudden pang of anxiety roll in his gut. That kind of destruction was something he'd only seen in movies. It almost looked fake, surrounded by green hills, fields and forests.

“
Target LZ dead ahead, Lieutenant,” announced Ensign Tusker.

Brian could see the fine line of the rural road cutting through the hills ahead. “I see it...” The farm buildings came into view and he fired the breaking thrusters, adjusting the ship's anti-gravity to compensate for loss of lift.

“Steele to Invader, set it down on the road.”

“
Copy, Skipper,” replied Brian. “Gear down...”

“
Aye, gear down...” Tusker pulled the levers and adjusted the auto-leveling settings for the landing feet, the hydraulics humming. “Gear down and locked.”

■ ■ ■

“Charlie Squad, let's go!” Jack stood at the foot of the ramp, the Invader's engines and anti-grav at idle. “You too, fruit cup,”  he said quietly as Alité stepped up onto the ramp. She gave a backward glance as she passed. “Are you sure you want to go, Boney?”

The doctor shrugged, “I haven't been there for at least a year, and I haven't been through the city because so much of it is supposed to be impassable... I'd like a chance to see for myself how bad it is.”

“OK,” said Jack, “just checking.” They walked up the ramp together, Boney wearing some light armor of his own, carrying his own rifle and sidearm. Jack pulled on the control handle for the hatch and it slid closed, sealing it, the ramp pulling up flush with the hull. “Clear!” shouted Jack. The only response from the cockpit a quick wave and the sound of the anti-grav generators whining up and the craft feeling buoyant. A series of familiar clunks told him the landing feet had come up into the hull.

“
Any worries over the city, Skipper?” called Brian from the cockpit.

“
Nothing more than small arms, sticks and stones...” replied Jack. “They've pretty much destroyed everything of significance. Take your time, let's get a good look.” Jack moved up into the cockpit and crouched between the seats, seeing a new face in the copilot's seat. “Howdy...”

“
Morning, sir. I'm Ensign Tusker.” He reached over and activated the shields, just in case.

“
Morning Tusker. See anything interesting on scans?”

“
No sir. No radio or sensor signals, no power sources. But I am getting thermal signatures down there.” Brian weaved the craft between some of the taller buildings - what there was left of them. Windowless skeletons.

“
Lots?”

“
Mmm hmm,” nodded the Ensign, concentrating. Looks like a market or something down over there,” he pointed, “about a hundred or so...” He adjusted the angle of the sensors to look out as well as down. “Some in the buildings too, even on the higher floors.”

Many of the streets were clogged with rubble, wrecks or abandoned cars, but there were some that looked like they had been purposely cleared. “Yeah that would be tough to navigate,” observed Jack, “it's like a friggin maze.”

“Everything's black or gray,” added Brian, “once you're on the ground, it would all look the same. You'd get lost in a heartbeat.”

“
You recording, Tusker?”

“
Yes, sir. In 3D and color.”

“
Good, maybe we can map a path if we need to go through at some point.”

“
LZ coming up,” announced Brian.

It sat at the top of a hill that rose above the level of the city, backed-up to the edge of a forest, the closest trees, charred, lifeless, void of leaves. A long, tree-lined drive snaking down from its approach connected it to the city. The condition of the palace looked like the rest of the city, its graceful lines and regal stature reduced to a slum. “Where do you want to put down?”

“Anywhere flat and level, I suppose.”

“
I'm going for that area there,” pointed the pilot, “outside the palace wall.”

■ ■ ■

It had taken Lieutenant Zorvano and the Marine Private sent to get him, fifteen minutes just to navigate the subterranean labyrinth that Foxtrot had been exploring where Bravo had left off. Besides the offices, barracks and armory that Bravo had discovered, Foxtrot discovered a military war room, a tactical control room, a full surgery-capable medical infirmary, several research labs, and an entire subterranean hangar big enough to contain three football fields.

“
Right through here, Lieutenant...”

“
How did you guys
not
get lost down here, Private?”

“
Who said we didn't get lost?” he joked, opening the blast door to the hangar. “We thought you'd want to see this, maybe relay the information to Captain Steele and the Admiral.”

The heavy door slid open and the two men stepped from the corridor into the underground hangar, where the Marines of Foxtrot were taking a general inventory of all that they'd found... including the black, two-hundred-eighty-four foot, Halce
ón Class research vessel.

Zorvano stopped mid stride and stared at it, his mind reeling. “That shouldn't be here...” he pointed, “I've got a bad feeling about this.” He looked around, “Where's your Sergeant?”

“He's in the hangar office looking over the records...”

“
OK, fine. I want round-the-clock security on this hangar...”

“
Not a problem, sir. We've gotten the systems up and running for the entire facility down here, including the signal boosters - we'll be able to use our comms now.”

“
I don't see any markings on it at all... that worries me.”

“
Sarge is looking over the manifests to see if we can figure out the who, what, and when.”

Zorvano started walking closer, “She's not a Maultier...”

“No, sir. The Maultier is wider, fatter in the middle with a low cargo ramp. This is a Halceón Class hull. Looks like she's configured as a research boat.”

Zorvano nodded, “Halce
ón's a versatile design... a lot of our Corvettes are built on this hull.”

“
That would explain her armaments.”

“
Lieutenant...”

Zorvano turned, “Sergeant.”

“Looks like she came in about two months ago... there's no ship's name on record and no crew listed, but she belongs to McSuddeth Mining. And believe me; I had to dig for
that
much.”