The Peacekeepers. Books 7 - 9 (The Peacekeepers Boxset Book 3)

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The Peacekeepers. Books 7 - 9 (The Peacekeepers Boxset Book 3) Page 47

by Ricky Sides


  “Did you land outside the base in Dallas?” Commander Finch asked.

  “No, sir, we didn’t,” Evan stated, speaking for the three pilots.

  “It’s my understanding that there were some massive downbursts coming from that system. Dallas base says they were hit by seventy mile per hour straight line winds.”

  “The way we were being buffeted about, I don’t doubt that a bit, sir,” Evan confirmed.

  “But you didn’t land. I want to know why,” Commander Finch probed.

  “Two reasons, sir. First, it’s forbidden to land in the state outside the bases. Second, I deemed that we could deviate from our course slightly and outrun the storm to the southern edge.”

  “Did you deviate from your flight plan without checking in with flight control?”

  “I did, sir. There was no time to go through channels. By the time we did that, we’d have been caught by the storm again. I also ordered the other junior commanders to follow me,” Evan explained.

  “Well done, Commander. I’m not a pilot myself, but I’ve ridden out my share of storms in Texas. I know how turbulent they can be, and I know that you don’t always have the time to get clearance. You took action knowing that it could jeopardize your flight status, but you did it to safeguard your crew, whose safety should be your primary concern.”

  The base commander paused for a moment and eyed all three of the junior commanders one by one. Then he said, “I’m glad to see that my first impression of you held true. Gentlemen, your testing phase is over. Other teams will take over the cargo runs. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you start training for your critical missions.”

  “Thank you, sir. May we ask what those missions entail?” asked Evan.

  “You’ll be participating in the Ark program. That’s all you need to know at this point. Your transfer to the Damroyal is on hold for another couple of weeks.”

  “Yes, sir. Very good, sir,” Evan said with just the hint of a smile.

  “Dismissed, Commanders.”

  When the door to his office closed behind the three departing junior team commanders, Commander Rob Finch heard a collective shout of joy. He chuckled to himself, thinking that they had every right to be proud of their accomplishments. He’d tested them severely, worked them harder than the experienced crews, and not once had they voiced a complaint beyond the weather report incident. His aide had been responsible for that, and had been severely reprimanded for the act. Luckily, Evan had caught it and gotten the correct weather forecast so that they had been aware of what they were facing. That awareness had caused them to fly at full speed for Dallas, rather than the more conservative speeds a fair weather flight would have warranted. Had they not done so, they would have been caught over the southern edge of the city as the storm came in, and would have probably been attempting to land when the downburst struck the base.

  Chapter 8

  Situated high on a mountain on the southeastern side of Cuba, a team of three peacekeeper coast watchers, utilizing powerful binoculars, spotted the gathering pirate fleet, which was located approximately twenty miles northeast of their position. Training a small but powerful telescope on the assembling armada, the peacekeepers were able to get a good count of the two hundred thirty-one ships that were present. They sent a radio message to the Havana and were instructed to continue to observe the fleet.

  “They have taken the bait, Admiral,” Ramon Marino reported by radio. “Transmitting the coordinates now,” he added.

  “Got them, Admiral,” Patricia stated.

  “Excellent work, Captain Marino. Please thank your coast watchers for us. Tell them I’m sending each of them a case of whiskey.”

  “The Jack Daniels that America has been exporting to Cuba in recent years?” asked Ramon with a touch of humor in his voice.

  “I’m afraid that’s my only contact for supplies,” Jim confirmed.

  “It is a good whiskey. The men prefer the black label. It’s in higher demand during trades.”

  “Black label it is then,” Jim assured the Cuban. Then, turning serious, Jim said, “Captain, you’ve received the dispatches about the plague, but we haven’t sent you the latest news yet.”

  “Oh?”

  Jim then explained that the disease had already escaped containment. He listed the cities that had already seen numerous cases and then he said, “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to issue no fly orders over America for your people and over Cuba for mine. I don’t want you Cubans infected by the disease and that means we should limit contact. At this point, only some of our medical personnel have contracted the disease and they are in quarantine, but you can never tell when someone might become infected. After this whiskey delivery, there will be nothing else from America shipped to Cuba until we solve this problem. The whiskey will be brought in by drones. It’s safe. I’ve had it in a warehouse for years, and had it loaded aboard the Damroyal prior to the advent of the plague.”

  “I understand the need for caution. We will honor the no-fly zones,” Captain Marino pledged. “God in heaven knows we would not survive another bout with that disease.”

  “It’s much worse now that it’s airborne,” Jim confirmed.

  “My doctor has warned me that the precautions we took the last time would be inadequate this time. He has requested vaccine when you have sufficient available to spare.”

  “Of course,” Jim promised. “Production is scheduled to begin in another week. They have to get everything they need gathered and the machinery calibrated properly. It is a complicated process.”

  “Then I pray that you have a week to spare, but I am afraid that many will die and the disease will spread like the wind,” Ramon said somberly.

  They talked about the containment procedures for a few more minutes, and then Jim asked, “Will the Cuban peacekeepers be participating in the attack on the enemy fleet?”

  “Yes, in an air capacity. Our fighters are standing by, just like the Havana. We will do what we can to assist you, but I fear that if we attack too soon, the flotilla will disperse.”

  “How many fighters can you put into the air?” Jim asked.

  “All thirty are waiting for the order.”

  “Are all of them rated for night flights?”

  “Yes, the latest batch of pilots qualified for night flying months ago.”

  “Good. I want your people to fly east under the cover of darkness and land on that beach that we once discussed as a staging area. At first light tomorrow, I want your air group to spread out and attack the pirates from the east. Drive them into the Gulf. Our air groups will be approaching from the north and west. Sweep scouts will also be coming in from the east, looking for any vessel that tries to break off and run. Hopefully, we’ll be able to engage the enemy simultaneously.”

  “We will do our part. I look forward to seeing the Damroyal. I haven’t seen her in a year, so I’m sure there have been many changes.”

  “I look forward to the day that you can land and come inside for a tour,” Jim stated.

  “That day will come, my friend,” Ramon stated confidently.

  “Good luck in the coming battle,” Jim said and then he signed off.

  “Admiral, the Constitution landed on the flight deck while you were on the radio. Captain Young is on the way in for the meeting,” Patricia informed Jim.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. If you’ve finished your training session here in the control room, I’d like you to attend this meeting. Summon the others to the conference room if you please. You have the list. Oh, and I want Jeff Brown there as well.”

  “Yes, Admiral. I’ll be along in a few moments,” she responded and then she activated the intercom to summon the people on Jim’s list to the conference room for a council of war.

  Jim strode through the hallways of the battle fortress, making his way purposefully toward the conference room, which was located not far from the control room on the second deck. As he walked down the corridor, he couldn’t help but compare th
e spacious interior of the battle fortress to the rest of the fleet. “It’s like being inside a building instead of a ship,” he thought to himself. He encountered several crewmen that he knew by name, but there were still many that he did not know.

  Stepping into the conference room, he found that Bill and Tim were already present. They were talking quietly at the table. He was about to greet them when Patricia’s voice came over the intercom saying, “Council members, you have an important incoming message. I am ready to route it to the conference room on your command.”

  “Have you seen Pol?” Jim asked as he walked toward the radio control switch.

  “Here I am, Jim,” Pol said as he came through the door. “Sorry I was slow in arriving.”

  “Not a problem, but Patricia says we have an important incoming message,” Jim responded. He toggled the switch and said, “This is the admiral, we are ready, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said, and then she rerouted the incoming message.

  “This is Admiral Banes of the Royal Navy. May I ask who I am addressing?”

  “Good day to you, Admiral Banes. This is Admiral Jim Wilison of the peacekeepers.”

  “Ah, then you are Captain Tim Wilison’s brother.”

  “That is correct, sir,” Jim replied.

  “Excellent. I am contacting you to inform you Americans that we have used the plans you left us to create our own air force. We also took the liberty of copying your design for the Peacekeeper vessel that visited us. We are now ready to open a dialogue with you about forming an alliance. With your permission, we wish to visit America with one of the ships we’ve built.”

  “No. That would be a bad idea, Admiral. We’re experiencing a plague, and you shouldn’t risk contamination,” Jim explained.

  “I read the report compiled by the men involved in your brother’s interview. He referenced a plague that had been unleashed by a drug cartel, but he said you had managed to stop the disease.”

  “We had, until it mutated.”

  “It attached itself to another illness? What illness, if I may ask?”

  “The flu. We are currently attempting to produce a vaccine.”

  “The flu you say.” A protracted sigh issued from the speaker. “It just had to be a respiratory ailment. Has it gone airborne?”

  “Yes, Admiral, I’m afraid it has. So, as you can see, it would not be in the best interests of the United Kingdom for you to visit at this time.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course, you are right,” Admiral Banes stated. Then he said, “Are you willing to share the information on the vaccine? I ask because it is only a matter of time before it crosses the ocean and affects us as well.”

  “Yes we are, but doing so will be problematic. There’s always a risk of contamination in a meeting,” Jim stated.

  “Jim. If I may,” Pol interrupted.

  “By all means, Pol,” Jim said and stepped aside.

  “Admiral Banes, this is Pol Bleakman. I met with your people in England.”

  “Mr. Bleakman. It’s good to hear the voice of the man who helped restore the Royal Navy.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Pol said. Then without a pause he added, “Time is critical, so I will be rude and ask you some questions.”

  “I understand the situation. By all means, proceed.”

  “You say that you copied the designs. Did you also copy the computer schematics? I ask because if you did, you could close to within three thousand miles so we could simply send you the files.”

  There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the conversation, but then the admiral said, “My communications officer just informed me that yes, that is possible.”

  Maggie had entered the room during Pol’s conversation. Jim had quickly briefed her on what was transpiring. She said, “Pol, you should tell the admiral that the vaccine has yet to be tested.”

  Pol nodded and relayed the information. The admiral responded, “Nevertheless, we must try to create it independently. It’s a matter of when rather than if someone brings the disease to my country. If the pirates don’t do so, then one of the American visitors surely will.”

  “American visitors?” asked Pol. “You mean some American’s have been traveling to the United Kingdom?”

  “Why, yes, though granted not many opt to fly their fancy automobiles here. Still, there is a trickle, and as I understand contagious diseases, it would only take one.”

  “Oh my God! We hadn’t even considered that possibility,” Maggie stated in surprise.

  “I wouldn’t want to do it, but there’s no reason you couldn’t fly to England in one of the cars,” said an ashen faced Pol. Turning his troubled gaze to the rest of the council, he added, “We’d better send them the specifications on disabling the computers in the autos too.”

  “Yes we need to do that. I hadn’t thought of it myself. Probably because it is so impractical. The autos are limited to one hundred miles per hour. That means the transatlantic trip would take them roughly forty hours. A flight of that duration would be incredibly hard on the occupants. They wouldn’t be able to stop and get out along the way, so there’d be no potty breaks and they’d feel cramped. It would be one hell of a bad trip, but they could make it across the Atlantic,” Tim opined.

  “Admiral Banes,” Jim said, breaking the silence on their end. “It is now imperative that you get to within communications range so that we can transmit the details on how to disable the flying autos. Any coming from America should be quarantined and their occupants tested for the disease. I cannot overstress the importance of preventing the spread of this disease to your nation.”

  ***

  “Now we can address the coming war,” Jim said in agitation after the necessary delay while they dealt with the Royal Navy.

  “Good,” said Bill. “At least I don’t have to feel so helpless in that regard. My ship is ready, Admiral. I just need clarification on what you want us to do in the battle.”

  “Our fifty drones will enter the battle five minutes ahead of eighty of our fighters. You and Jack will come at them from the north and east. The Arizona isn’t here yet, but she’ll rendezvous with us in a few hours. Ramon in the Havana and the Cuban fighters will be coming at them from the east as well. We want to force them into the Gulf. The Damroyal will be situated here,” Jim said, indicating a spot on the map that was just to the north of the southern tip of Florida. “The Damroyal will enter the fight when the enemy closes to within three miles. Prior to that, we’ll be just above the water to avoid detection, because if they see us they are sure to scatter and run.”

  “Will your fighters come in waves, or en masse?” asked Bill.

  “An hour before the dawn, our fighters will launch from the flight bay. They will then land on the flight deck of the Damroyal and wait for the proper time to leave. That will enable them to quickly get airborne and leave en masse. They’ll circle wide to the north, and come at the pirates from the east, but the drones will precede them by five minutes. They’ll be coming out of the east with the sun at their backs, so our pilots should be able to reach the enemy before they even know they’re there. Our pilots and drone operators will hit hard and fast, but then they’ll appear to bug out to the north, south, and east. At that point, I want the Constitution to hit their center from the east. Jack will take the north. We’ll coordinate with Ramon so that the Havana hits them from the south,” Jim said and paused to see if Bill was following all of the details.

  When Bill nodded his understanding, Jim continued, “Bill, I want you to have a mad minute when you initially engage the enemy.” Bill once more nodded his understanding, but this time a smile slowly crept onto his face.

  “Target as many ships as possible in the opening moments of the battle. Make it as visual as you can. I want you to scare the hell out of the enemy, so don’t spare the energy weapons.”

  “Bill smiled and said, “You want them so afraid that they panic and flee to the west.”

  “Correct,” Jim said. “Ram
on and Jack will be doing the same thing, but they lack the awesome firepower of the Constitution, so I’m counting on you to goad them in the right direction. The drones and fighters will return once your ship engages the enemy.”

  “Did you want my fighters to link up with the rest?” Bill queried.

  Shaking his head in the negative, Jim explained, “I want them to stand off just out of range of the pirates to the east, spread out to watch for any pirates who attempt to go in any direction other than west. It will be their responsibility to sink those vessels. I want your drones to augment those fighters. Jack will cover the north and Ramon the south. Bear in mind that some of the pirates will almost certainly try to head back out into the open Atlantic. Once they get past our outer elements, they’ll be hard, if not impossible to locate.”

  “Understood.”

  “The Peacekeeper, her drones and escort fighter will be covering the west. They’ll be situated two miles to the west of the Damroyal. Their task is to destroy any vessels that get past us,” Jim stated and looked to his brother to see if he understood.

  Tim nodded his head and said, “That’s bound to happen.”

  “Jeff, I want you to go through the roster. There should be several pilots onboard the Damroyal that you’ve flown with in the past. Pick enough to form a ten fighter squadron to back up the Peacekeeper in the containment mission.”

  “Yes, Admiral. I assume you want me to skip any squadron leaders or their squadrons won’t fight very effectively.”

  “I knew I could count on you to do the job right,” Jim said with a nod.

  “I assume the Damroyal will attack with her guns the moment that the fleet closes on your position,” Tim said.

  “That’s what I have in mind. The eastern contingent will be the hammer. The Damroyal will be the anvil. With a little luck, the damned pirate war will finally come to an end in the morning.”

  Looking at everyone in the room, Jim tried to think of anything he’d missed. “Maggie,” he said. “Have you made preparations for emergency treatment of the casualties?”

 

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