Heavier Than Air

by T. E. Vario (t_e_vario@yahoo. com)

  The other mechanics within earshot did not pay attention. This type of thing was common, particularly with experienced pilots and mechanics.

  Once in the hanger, JP spoke more softly.

  “I’ve swept this area twice today. We can speak openly, but let’s make it look like we are examining the aileron bellcranks.”

  “OK. So what did you find?”

  “Not a damned thing. First I checked the logs on all of the perimeter sensors. Those little devils would have picked up even a narrow beam transmission at any communications frequency. Not a trace. I then made sure that they were working by sending a dummy signal myself. Even a 20 milliamp toot was enough to make the sensors go nuts.”

  “Then I went to the computer logs, and looked for e-mail or file transfer activity during the period from the start of the briefing to noon that day. There were just a handful of clerical transmissions, because everyone else was tied up getting the aircraft launched. Nothing suspicious.”

  “Finally I went to the Major’s office. He let me check out the secure terminal that he uses to log the flight plans. I was thinking that someone might have a receiver near by to pick up the faint emissions from his monitor. Trouble is, the security box he locks it in doubles as a Faraday cage. Whoever set that system knew about RF leakage and built it so that there was nothing to pick up.”

  “So what do you think?” asked John.

  “Can’t 100% guarantee that no signals were sent from this base John, but it is pretty damn unlikely. I’ll keep checking, but my advise is to start looking at the other end of the Major’s computer system – Section 12.”

  “OK, JP. Keep looking around here and let me know if you see anything. Also, check the pilot’s and mechanic’s logs and look for anyone who has had suspicious absences. Meanwhile, I will follow your advice and work with the Major on the Section 12 angle.”

  “Right John. I’ll keep look’n. Let me know if I can help with your end.”

  “Thanks JP.”

  * * *

  The Major was in his office, engrossed in paperwork.

  “Sir!” said John while saluting.

  The Major looked up and returned the salute.

  “Shut the door John, and have a seat.”

  “Thank you Major. I got JP’s report a few minutes ago. He can’t find any evidence of a transmission from this base in the time between your briefing and the point where we felt compromised. A few routine e-mails, but no radio or IR output at all.”

  “That does not surprise me John. I exchanged a few encrypted messages with an old friend of mine who heads up the Air Corp’s small intelligence office. It turns out that he had been contacted recently by the Army signal corps. They have had several ambushes that looked suspiciously like the Greens were tipped off.”

  “Any idea how those leaks might have happened.”

  “I don’t have the details, but it sounds like ground movements and supply are coordinated with a twin system to this one.” The Major patted the locked box containing his “secure” terminal.

  “Let me guess, the Army system goes straight to Section 12, like ours?”

  “Right you are John. That’s one of the key services provided by Section 12. All electronic roads lead right to that section. That’s why they put it right in the middle of Camp Williams. It has maximum security.”

  John was lost in thought. The Major spoke again.

  “I’ve been thinking about the best way to approach this problem, and you’re not going to like what I came up with. I think we should ask your daughter to trace the leak for us. We don’t know who in that organization might be dirty, up to and including their CO, Heinrich Largos.”

  “Major, I have to admit I was thinking the same thing. Sara is a good kid. Actually, she hasn’t been a kid for some time, but I know she will do a good job. The trick will be for her to figure out how to identify the leak without identifying herself. It could get dangerous.”

  “It is dangerous John, but I don’t see another way. We also need to get the message to her without using any electronics. I think the best way would be for us to contrive some reason for you to see her, and then you can explain the problem face-to-face.”

  “I won’t argue with that Major, I would love to see her.”

  “It’s settled then. I’ll get Lt. Commander Griffith to invent some pretext to get you down to Camp Williams tomorrow. You can ride down in the morning, do whatever is requested of you that afternoon, and then see Clarrisa in the evening. You can either ride back that night, or wait until the following morning.”

  “I’ll want to come back immediately. My son is due the day after tomorrow, and I want to see him the minute he gets here. It only takes two hours to get to Camp Williams from here on a good horse.”

  “My apologies for involving your family John, but there’s a war on. Be sure to keep what we are doing a secret, even from your son.”

  “I understand sir. I’ll get ready.”

  “Safe journey John.”

  John walked back to his quarters, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. Damn if he wasn’t putting his other child in harm’s way. At the same time he felt immense pride in Sara. She was incredibly bright. If she could pull this off, she would be saving a lot of lives. John wasn’t going to sleep well tonight.

  * * *

  At that moment Sara was in Hanna’s sleeping quarters. Sara was not that comfortable around Hanna, but Sara was feeling isolated and could use some human interaction. Sara had a nodding acquaintance with the two men in the offices near hers, but the separate offices and closed doors during working hours did not lead to many excuses to get to know her fellow spooks. Sara’s Great Aunt lived just outside of the base, which made for some nice company and a home-cooked meal now and again. However, within Section 12, the pressure of the war, and the secret nature of the work, tended to keep people separated. A nunnery would have been a hotbed of social life compared with Section 12.

  “I’ve got something to show you Sara. But promise that you won’t squeal on me.”

  “OK, what is it this time?”

  Hanna went to her footlocker and pulled out a cloth sack. Inside were a couple of items that sure looked like they’ed been smuggled in.

  “I’ve got a few friends who are involved in a bit of trade on the outside. Look what I’ve snared!”

  Sara could not believe it. Hanna had somehow come up with caviar, paté, and fine crackers. There was more in the sack, but this would do for starters.

  “Dig in honey. It does not get much better than this.”

  Both the caviar and paté were in glass jars sealed by wax. It looked like someone on a farm was doing some canning to make some extra cash. They spread the jars and box of crackers on the bed between them.

  “God this is good. I can’t decide which is better, the paté or the caviar.”

  Sara spoke with her mouth full. “If we keep eating we are going to go through this all in one sitting. Do you want to save some?”

  “Let’s eat it now and skip the cafeteria tonight. Now that I’ve started on this ambrosia, I don’t think I have the willpower to stop.”

  “OK by me,” said Sara, filling her face again.

  They started slowing down a bit as the reached the half-way point of the paté. It was incredibly filling. Hanna reached back into the sack and came out with a small corked bottle.

  “And look what else I’ve got,” Hanna said while showing off the bottle.

  “What is it?”

  “Have a sip and tell me what you think.”

  Hanna uncorked the bottle and put a small amount of the clear liquid into a metal cup she had next to her. Sara took a sip and then shouted at her.

  “Damn it Hanna, this is fuel!”

  “It’s not fuel, its alcohol. Keep your voice down, I don’t want to share it with anyone else.”

  “You know perfectly well that’s against orders. Not to mention it being immoral to drink fuel in any case.”

  “Oh do
n’t be such a prude. A little won’t kill you, or hurt the war effort. Plus, I like the buzz.”

  “Well, keep it to yourself. I’m not having another drop.”

  “OK, OK. I’ll put it away. Just having some harmless fun. But if you don’t like it, I won’t push it.”

  Hanna put the bottle away and went back to eating. They ate more slowly, and in silence.

  “I’m sorry Sara, I can tell I really upset you.”

  “Well, maybe I overreacted. But I feel strongly about consuming fuel. Anyway, I think I’m getting full.”

  “Me too. Look, let’s put this away for now. Maybe we can eat some more after this settles.”

  Hanna put the half-empty jars back into the sack. She turned back to Clarrisa.

  “I can tell that you’re still tied up in knots. Here, turn around.”

  “What?”

  “Just turn around. I know how to get rid of the knots.”

  Hanna started messaging Sara’s neck and shoulders through the fabric of her sweater. Hanna obviously knew what she was doing. It felt wonderful.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Very nice. I’ve never had a message before.”

  “This is just a neck rub. Here let me give you a message. An old boyfriend taught me how to do this.”

  Hanna gently pushed Sara onto the bed, face down. She continued the neck rubs, and then worked on her back.

  “This isn’t how you really do it. I’ll show you.”

  Hanna slid her hands under Sara’s sweater and continued the message. It felt great. The combination of a very full stomach and the message was excellent.

  “How does that feel.”

  “Very nice.” If Sara had been a cat, she would have been puring.

  Hanna worked up and down her spine several times. She undid Sara’s bra strap can worked along the sides of her torso. Sara was getting a bit uncomfortable about Hanna touching the sides of her breasts, but did not say anything.

  “OK, roll over and I’ll do the other side.”

  Sara did not know what to expect, but she rolled over. Hanna reached under her sweater and started with the neck muscles. Sara shut her eyes, but she found it hard to relax. Hanna’s hands moved lower and started directly messaging her breasts.

  “Stop that!” Sara said.

  “Oh come one, what’s the harm?” said Hanna. She slowed down, but kept here hands gently messaging Sara’s breasts.

  Suddenly it dawned on Hanna what was going on. Hanna was trying to seduce her! Sara pulled both of Hanna’s hands away and stood up.

  “Damn it Hanna, you’re just trying to get into my pants. You know damn well that it’s against regulations to have sexual relations with another member of Section 12, male or female.”

  “Look, you’re a beautiful woman Sara. You can’t blame me for wanting to get closer.”

  “You can go to hell!” yelled Hanna.

  Hanna reconnected her bra, tucked in her sweater, and strode out of the room. She had not intended to, but she couldn’t stop herself from slamming Hanna’s door as she left.

  Mark Kauf, Menard, Clawson, and Hirotomi were on patrol. For a practice maneuver, this sure felt real. They had parachuted into a clearing in the high mountains, a good six-day hike from the nearest friendly base, and deep in disputed territory. Their orders were simple:

  Foxtrot Squad: Reconnaissance along a set course 142-5 over the high ground. Get back to base without being seen. Report at dusk each day as to your location and what you observe.

  It sounded simple on paper, but made little sense in real life. There was no way their presence was a secret, as they parachuted in broad daylight. The four planes that they jumped from could only stay up in the daylight, so that was the way it was done. Great way to start a secret mission. The pre-set course was also turning out to be a joke. The path kept taking them into open ground. To avoid being seen they had to backtrack and detour, which added miles to their journey. They had to make up those miles every day, to get to the predetermined communications points.

  There were compensations. The terrain was beautiful. The flight over had given them a good look at the mountain ranges, which were aligned roughly north south. These were young mountains, made of both extinct volcanoes and sedimentary ridges thrust up from the compression of the colliding tectonic plates. The highest peaks were at over 11,000 feet, and snow covered through most of the year. It was April, and snow had only partially melted in the 6000-8000 foot level they would using for most of the south-bound hike.

  Hiking itself was a challenge. Although it was a nominal six-day hike back, they were carrying ten days of rations. This made sense, as they could easily get behind schedule, but it was a lot of added weight. In addition, they had full combat equipment, including a full store of explosives and anti-personnel devices in Clauson’s pack, and five clips each for the machine guns. Menard had extra explosives in addition to his sniper rife, just in case. It added up to over 90 pounds per man.

  All four had suffered from airsickness during the flight, with the constant circling of the planes as they gained altitude at several points along the trip north. Their gear completely filled the rear seat and cargo area of the plane. This made it impossible to move, and difficult to get out of the aircraft when it came time to jump. Menard became so stuck that he could not leverage himself out of the seat. The pilot had a simple solution. He rolled the plane inverted and Menard fell out in a tumbling mass of man and equipment. The chute quickly righted him, but it was not a dignified way to begin the mission.

  They had buried their chutes about a mile away from the landing zone, and then continued along a footpath that appeared to be in fairly frequent use. They hoped they did not run into whoever else was using the route. The terrain was mostly pine trees at this elevation, with manzanita bushes growing in the open areas. Live Oaks, elms and horse chestnut trees edged out the evergreens in the low areas, with the elms preferring the damp soil near streambeds. The soil was soft, made mostly of volcanic ash. Patches of ground in the sunlight were free of snow, an already dry to the touch. The soft dusty soil made the downhill sections of the trail treacherous, as it was easy to start sliding and difficult to stop. Having 90 pounds on your back did not help.

  They made camp the first night in the dark in a forested area about 300 feet above the trail they were following, and set up two-hour watch cycles through the night. Mark had made their evening transmission from high ground a mile before their campsite. The chance of their transmission being intercepted was small, but it did no harm to put a mile between the transmission point and where they were sleeping. Dinner was cold rations, as they could not risk a fire. It did not matter. They were almost too tired to eat. Mark took the first watch, and despite his nervousness, had to struggle to stay awake. He made sure Clawson was in position and had his eyes open before Mark fell asleep himself.

  It was day two. They had made 12 miles day one, which was pretty good for a 13:00 landing. Breakfast was water and a unique Army biscuit everyone called “tack.” Tack was somewhere between bread and a building material. It was loaded with calories, which is what they needed, but had few other redeeming features. At least their packs would start getting lighter. Mark pulled out the map, and gathered the other three men for a brief discussion.

  “We are here, and have a goal of reaching this peak, K121, by nightfall. It is only 15 miles as the crow flies, but we aren’t crows.”

  “Looks like the path takes us along the top of a ridge through here,” said Clawson. “We could be silhouetted against the horizon if we are not careful.”

  “Good point Clawson. We will have to see how high the trees are. We’ll be all right if they extend up to the ridgeline. If not, we go around.”

  “Let me take a piss and I’ll be ready,” said Menard.

  The sniper would take point, so he led off. Mark took the number two spot, with Clauson and Hirotomi following in that order. Each man stayed as far behind as they could while maintaining visu
al contact. It worked out to be about 100 feet in the thicker parts of the forest, up to about 400 feet of separation in the more open areas. Hand signals were their main means of communicating while on the move, although the occasional whistle could be used to get attention. They tried to make their whistling sound like birdcalls, with mixed results.

  Mark watched Menard as he led them down the trail. The camouflage patterns on all of the clothing and equipment was particularly effective in the spotty light that filtered through the evergreens. Menard was difficult to spot when moving, and essentially vanished if he stopped behind even sparse cover. Menard’s hunting background helped. He knew instinctively how to make the minimum amount of noise, and what to look and listen for. He would periodically put out an open hand to stop the group while he listened to something in the distance.

  They had been hiking about two hours when Menard signaled a stop. He cupped his right ear and then moved his right hand in a parody of a mouth moving. Menard had heard voices. He kept still for several minutes and then gave a small signal for Mark to join him.

  Once by Menard’s side, Mark listened intently. Mark herd faint noises down-slope, but could not make them out. Menard whispered to him.

  “I heard two faint screams. It sounded like a woman’s voice. I think I can hear one or two men talking, but its pretty faint. I’m guessing that the sounds are coming from about 100 yards, probably below the trail.”

  Menard’s hearing was clearly better than Mark’s. Mark signaled the men behind them to join up. Once they were together, Mark explained the situation in a low whisper.

  “Menard heard what he thinks was a woman’s scream and men’s voices. Our orders are not to make contact, but we should find out what is going on. I want us to approach the sounds in an open pattern, keeping each other in sight. Stop when you make visual contact, or when signaled to stop by anyone else. We will then pull back to the path and continue south as quickly as possible.”

  “Any questions?”

  All three men shook their heads.