by Ricky Sides
Later, Captain Wilcox was present in the cargo bay when the strike team came back aboard. The rest of the team greeted them warmly. The cook brought in a cart loaded with coffee and sandwiches to help warm the men.
As the strike team came aboard, the escort pilot, Rufus Hayes, joined them. He had attached his fighter to the hull of the ship and he was ready to come inside. He had then scrambled down the access ladder mounted beside the bay door. Captain Wilcox wanted the pilot to get some food and sleep before returning to his fighter for another long day of combat at sea.
However, the doctor took one look at Rufus and grounded the man. The pilot had been confined to his cockpit for too long. He had flown out to sea with his fighter attached to the Arizona, and he had managed to sleep a couple of hours during that trip, but the physical toll on his body had been high. “I’m sorry, Captain, but Rufus needs a twenty-four hour break from flight duty.”
“That’s alright, Captain. I can do my job. I just need a few hours sleep and some food,” Rufus argued.
“The Doctor says otherwise, and no one overrules Rex’s medical opinions on this ship. You’re grounded for the twenty-four hours, Rufus,” the captain stated.
The doctor then turned his attention to the strike team. Most of the men were all right, except one man, who was shivering uncontrollably. “Corporal Banes is suffering second stage hypothermia, Captain,” the doctor reported. I need to get him to the infirmary.”
Taking a step toward the captain, the corporal started to protest, but Lieutenant Farns cut the man off when he said, “You know the Doc’s right. Get to the infirmary, Corporal.”
“Everyone’s about to have some downtime, gentlemen,” the captain said. “We’ve all been on duty for over thirty hours, so I’m ordering an eight hour halt. We’re a couple of miles to the rear of the fleet now and that distance is increasing as we speak.”
***
Tim led the representative of the Royal Family and three military officers on a tour of the ship. He then sat down with them in the mess hall of the Peacekeeper for a one-hour video of the history of the peacekeepers. That video contained footage of many of the confrontations that the peacekeepers had dealt with during the years since their formation. Of particular interest to the visitors was the battle with the drug cartel that was fought in the Gulf of Mexico.
Pol then presented the British representative a box of carefully labeled computer disks. He explained that those disks contained all the information necessary for the United Kingdom to create their own fleet of ships and fighters. He further explained that they’d brought along computers, which were already loaded with that information, and functional drones and fighters as gifts from the peacekeepers to the British people.
One of the military officers wanted to know if the peacekeepers now ruled America. He was informed that they did not, and that currently, there was no functioning national government. “We work to maintain the peace, so that others can restore government,” Tim explained.
During the exchange of information, the peacekeepers learned that the Royal Family now ruled the British Isles, but in a manner quite different from the monarchy of the past. That rule was not placed solely in the hands of one member of the Royal Family. Now, they jointly led the people as a sort of committee. This seemed to have permitted their individual strengths to serve the people best, while other members of the family negated their individual personality weaknesses.
At the conclusion of that first meeting, one of the military officers stood up and apologized, saying, “When I first saw your ship, I thought only of my country’s need for such a vessel. I am ashamed to say that I would have ordered the ship seized, had you emerged at that point in time. Yet, you come in friendship, with marvelous gifts of technology and knowledge for my people. I can but beg your forgiveness for such churlish intentions.”
“The monarchy would have ordered the ship released immediately,” said the representative of the crown, who was appalled that the officer would have seized the ship, “but by then, I fear the damage to the relationship between our people would have been done.”
Tim nodded soberly, saying that it was one thing to seize a peacekeeper vessel, but quite another to keep it. He then pointed out the standing order that any ship seized by an enemy was to be hunted down and destroyed at all costs. This led to Patricia pulling up the video of the boarding of the Peacekeeper during the war with the vampire cult.
Five hours after the meeting began, the Peacekeeper landed. Thanks to several messages sent by the British representatives during the meeting, things had been happening on the ground. A large group of people had arrived. Two experienced fighter pilots would fly the fighters to their base. The fighters were sorely needed. There were also computer experts who took possession of the computers, and took them away to an undisclosed location with a heavy guard detachment. The drones were loaded aboard flatbed trucks, and their control consoles were loaded into several waiting vans.
“It will probably take you a couple of years, but with what you have now, you’ll be able to develop your own fleet,” Pol assured the emissary.
“That’s assuming that we have the resources to utilize,” the man responded.
“You have the raw materials available in quantity,” Pol reassured the man. Shrugging, Pol added, “The rest is a matter of having the will to see the job done. I have always admired the strength of spirit of the British people. I believe that your countrymen will rise to the challenge splendidly.”
“Thank you, sir, I pray you are right,” the man said with feeling.
After the items had been transferred to the British, the Peacekeeper sat on the ground for another hour while a transport came from the city. That transport carried five American civilians who had been stranded in the aftermath of the night of the quakes. Those individuals had maintained contact with the American embassy in England. The Ambassador had survived the events. He had made certain that the British government was aware of the plight of the stranded Americans, but would not be returning to the United States with them. The man had no family in the states, he had taken a wife in England, and he was content to remain there.
When the van transporting the Americans arrived, they assembled near it and stared in awe at the Peacekeeper, but when they noted the flag on the ship, two of the men cried tears of joy because it was true. They really were going home after all these years.
As the emotional refugees approached the ship, a live band played “The Star Spangled Banner” to honor them, just as the Americans had honored the British refugees. Tim suspected that the British had reported that honor and that their countrymen were reciprocating. He appreciated the gesture.
As the last of the refugees boarded the ship, Tim and the strike force team saluted the British military standing nearby. The British returned the salute.
Moments later, the Peacekeeper was airborne.
“Can we make the rendezvous on time?” Patricia asked her husband as he entered the control room.
“Just barely,” Tim replied. Turning to Pol, he said, “Please escort our passengers to their quarters. I’m counting on you to inform them of the dangers of travel aboard the ship. Please brief them on the different warning announcements they may hear, and the proper way to respond to each.”
“Yes, Captain. It would be a shame for them to get seriously injured on the trip back home,” Pol said.
“We aren’t going home just yet,” Tim announced. “We’re meeting the Arizona at sea. So far, she’s taken on the fleet alone. Patricia has intercepted some of the pirate communications. Their apparent leader is telling the rest that he thinks the Americans only have one such aircraft or they would have surely sent more against them.” Tim squared his jaw and a hard-eyed expression came across his face as he added, “It’s time to let that fleet know that there are indeed other Peacekeeper vessels.”
Chapter 7
Captain Wilcox stood in the control room of his ship surveying the fleet ahead. The Arizo
na was pacing the fleet, and had been for two hours. Now that the fleet was approaching the coordinates where he had agreed to link up with the Peacekeeper, it was time for the next move in this war.
Returning to his chair, he glanced at the pilot’s position and frowned. Namid had insisted on flying the fighter now that Rufus was grounded. He’d said no to the plan at first, but when she’d asked him if he would have refused any other pilot in the fleet, he’d been forced to admit that he was letting his personal relationship with his wife influence his decision. Therefore, in the end, he had yielded and agreed to the plan.
Keying the intercom switch, the captain said, “Lieutenant Farns, if you and your men would like to witness the results of your work last night, you have permission to come forward. We are about to put on a demonstration for the enemy.”
The men must have been hoping for that invitation, because only a few moments had passed before Jack heard the pounding of booted feet running in the hall behind the control room.
“All present and accounted for, Captain,” Lieutenant Farns stated as the men assembled.
“Corporal Banes, do you have permission from the Doctor to leave the infirmary?”
“In writing, sir,” the corporal said with a smile. He handed the captain the signed release form.
“I see the few hours rest and food helped to restore you, Corporal. I’m glad you could make it for the show,” Jack said.
“Captain, the Peacekeeper is reporting that they are on station at the designated coordinates,” the communications officer said.
“Inform the captain that I’m about to start the next phase of the operation,” Jack said. “Rufus, execute the closing maneuver.”
“Aye, Captain,” said the pilot absently, as he manipulated the flight controls with great concentration. He was checked out on the flight controls, but he lacked a significant amount of experience actually flying the ship.
When the Arizona closed to within the distance Jack wanted, he signaled communication to broadcast his radio message in the pirate communications channels and via external speakers.
The message warned the fleet to turn back or they would be sent to the bottom of the sea. It further warned the pirates that they had only seen a small demonstration of the power of a single ship of the peacekeeper fleet, but that this was about to change.
The captain permitted a few moments of ominous silence to build tension in the minds of the pirates. “Lieutenant Farns, do you want to do the honors?” Jack asked.
“Yes, Captain,” responded the strike force leader. He strode to the communications station.
“Just hit this button. I have the system set to send the detonation frequency,” the radio operator explained.
“Thanks,” replied the lieutenant. Then, without hesitation, Lieutenant Farns pushed the button as he stared at the massive fleet spread out before him.
Explosions, seemingly scattered all over the fleet, rocked the armada as the explosive devices detonated almost simultaneously.
The ships had been targeted in a scattered fashion to begin with, but during the night and morning hours, they had spread out even more. Because of that maneuvering, there were visible explosions all across the massive fleet. Soon, another forty ships were taking on water and listing badly.
“Turn back, or be sent to the bottom!” Jack intoned with a carefully calculated triumphant note to his voice. He was trying to start a panic among the ships of the fleet. It was also the cue for the fighters and drones to attack the outer fringes of the fleet.
***
Namid hovered in the sky near the Arizona. Between her position and the Arizona were the three drones.
“Who am I sharing my airspace with this morning?” queried the familiar voice of Jeff Brown, the escort pilot for the Peacekeeper.
Recognizing his voice, Namid smiled and responded, “That’d be the Phoenix, Cowboy.”
“Phoenix? What are you doing in a fighter? You’re supposed to be piloting the Arizona now,” Jeff said.
“Our pilot got grounded,” Namid replied. She was about to say more, but at that precise moment she saw the multiple detonations across the fleet. A moment later, she had the cue to commence her attack run.
“On your six, Phoenix, just like old times,” Jeff said flippantly.
“Yeah, well, you try not to get shot down, just like old times, Cowboy. This isn’t my bird. I’m not used to this one, and I’m not sure I can pull off a sea rescue in this fighter,” Namid stated as she throttled forward.
“Roger that, Phoenix. I’ve learned a few tricks since those days,” Jeff responded as he matched her velocity and vector. He would fly as her wingman for the duration of the mission. He had flown that position in the past and he was comfortable with it.
Behind the fighters, the drones moved out toward the fleet. Two of the drones dropped down toward a frigate that was firing at them with several deck guns. They raked the deck with their lasers and succeeded in boring several holes in the deck in an attempt to hit a portion of the engine room. The frigate responded with even more firepower, striking one of the hardened drones of the Arizona so hard that the operator lost control and the drone crashed into the damaged deck.
The surviving drone flew away to attack another target.
“Several of the ships appear to be attempting to turn and run back for Europe,” Jeff observed as Namid aimed her fighter at a fuel transport ship she had spotted from her holding position earlier.
“Let them run,” Namid stated. “Right now, I have my sights on this fuel tanker.”
“Beware your two o’clock, Phoenix,” Jeff said as the frigate that the drone had just attacked, opened fire in her direction.
They were leading her as they had done with the drones the day before. Namid saw the tracers streaking past her canopy as she flew into the withering fire. She felt her fighter take several hits, but thought she had come through intact. “I made it through ok, Cowboy. How about you?” she inquired.
For a moment, there was no reply. Namid had a brief moment of concern, but then she heard Jeff’s voice saying, “That was too close, but I made it.” There was a momentary pause, and then his voice sounded concerned as he said, “Namid, your fighter’s been hit hard. It’s dumping battery fluid at an alarming rate. Turn east and punch it now!”
“If I do that, I’ll just deplete my battery faster, Jeff. You know that,” Namid said with more calmness than she felt.
“If you don’t, you’ll never clear the fleet. If you go down inside their perimeter, you’re dead, Phoenix. Kick it now!” Jeff insisted.
“Roger, Cowboy, I’ll try for the thinnest section, just in case,” Namid responded. She altered the vector of her fighter slightly, but she was already losing altitude. “I’m not gonna make it this time, Cowboy,” Namid said into her radio headset moments later.
“You hang in there, Namid! You can make it girl!” Jeff yelled into his mike.
Ignoring him, Namid said, “Arizona, I’m going down. Tell Jack I love him.”
“I hear you, Namid. I’m listening, but you can make it,” Jack responded.
By now, the surface of the sea was so close that she could see she’d never clear the fleet before ditching, and there was no way that the peacekeepers could affect a rescue with her position surrounded by the enemy. “You’re a good husband, Jack, but you’re a terrible liar. It’s been good, baby,” Namid said as she prepared to slam into the waves.
In the control room of the Arizona, an ashen faced Jack Wilcox remembered the only other time he had heard Namid call him baby. He had been at the brink of death then.
Turning to Rufus, Jack said, “Pilot, set course for their position. Gunner, open fire on the vessels closest to our pilots with everything we’ve got. Drones, you have the same orders.”
“Aye, Captain,” came a chorus of replies.
“What the hell?” asked Namid. Her fighter was staying above the waves, but only by a few feet. Her instrument panel showed zero energy
to keep her airborne.
“I’ve got you, Namid,” Pol’s voice said over the radio.
“What, Pol? How?” asked Namid in confusion. But there was no answer. Her radio no longer had sufficient power to operate.
Namid didn’t know what Pol had done, but somehow she was remaining airborne, at least for the moment, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Several enemy vessels were moving on an intercept course and then the Arizona and several drones were overhead hammering away at the oncoming ships. The air above and around Namid was full of lasers and conventional weapons fire as the ships fought back.
Then she was clear of the fleet. She flew on to the east for another full minute, and then her fighter finally ditched into the sea.
Namid had waited until the fighter hit the sea to open her canopy. Otherwise, she would have run the risk of water entering the cockpit on impact, which would have been disastrous. However, the moment her fighter settled into the water, she opened the canopy and scrambled out of the doomed fighter.
Seconds after Namid entered the cold Atlantic water, a rope dangled into view a few feet from her. She swam over to the rope and grabbed it, just above the surface. Working quickly, she pulled the rope through her hands until she found the end with its attached carabiner. Her fingers were so numb from the cold water that Namid had to try twice to fasten the carabiner to her flight harness, but she managed. She gave the rope three stout tugs, knowing that Jeff would have his left hand resting on it so that he could feel the signal to commence the extraction. The pilots had worked out this system prior to the war in the Gulf of Mexico.
Jeff gently applied upward lift, and moments later, she was out of the sea, dangling from the rope. She shivered as the wind whipped her body, causing the wet clothing to adhere to her flesh and chilling her to the bone.
Then Namid saw the Arizona fly past them. It descended to just above the surface of the sea. The cargo bay door opened and she saw Jack waiting to help her get inside.