Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “Tower – Nine and Ten... have a good flight, gentlemen. Launching....”

  The electro-magnetic launch sled flung Jack's Lancia out into the space of New Vanus, bouncing his helmet against the headrest, the instantaneous 4G acceleration making him grunt. It felt more violent than the Freedom, but he guessed it would have to, the rails being only marginally longer than the fighter itself. Thankfully, it was only momentary. He reached forward toggling his engine power, feeling the familiar bump of the thrusters. Swinging the Lancia to the right in a gentle, lazy arc, he took up the heading of the task force toward the gate to Irujen. Greeted by the motionless waves and swirls of iridescent blue dust spread across the system, the stunning abstract beauty was enough to catch his breath and make him smile to himself. Enough to elicit a chill that raced up his back and caused the hair on the back of his neck to bristle. Having described it to Lisa, he hoped she would get a chance to see it before the task force got to the gate. He made a mental note to take her out in a shuttle at the very least before they left the system.

  Looking over his left shoulder Steele could see his wingman's Lancia catching up and wondered who Pappy had paired him up with. Whoever it was hadn't made a peep so far, keeping with the protocol he'd requested. Curiosity was gnawing at him. Who was it...? Pappy hadn't given him any clue as to whom he might have chosen. It was probably one of their own people from the Freedom. He supposed it didn't really matter, he wasn't up for conversation anyway...

  Steele sighed to himself. “White One to White Two... call sign?”

  “Redline, sir.”

  “Redline, huh?” Who the hell is Redline? “That's a pretty interesting call sign, how'd you get it?”

  Like most pilots, Commander Dar Sloane was used to multitasking, adjusting his sensors as they chatted on a local channel. “I got it when I was racing. Early on, I had a bad habit of pushing my engines too far and burning them up... I didn't finish my first couple of races. It took me a while before I got better at conserving them. Of course by then the name was already permanent.”

  “Yeah...” began Jack, thinking back on the damage he inflicted on the Zulu engines. “I've burned a few, it's not hard to do. So what type of racing were you doing?”

  “Canyon racing in Drifters...”

  “What's a Drifter?” Jack glanced out over his port wing at the Lancia off his wingtip, the fighter silhouetted against streaks of iridescent blue dust.

  “A thruster-powered air racer. They've got about a twenty-five foot wingspan, closed cockpit... They'll do about a thousand, flat-out. Not that you get to do that too often in a canyon race.”

  “Is this a professional thing?” Jack was trying to imagine a combination of America's favorite racing league, the dedicated fans filling the grandstands, the carnival atmosphere, the food, the announcers and sponsors, all transplanted to a place like the Grand Canyon, watching air racing between the rugged canyon walls. Where would you make a pit stop?

  “Oh yeah. There's a whole racing circuit for this sport. When I was competing there were about fifteen courses... there's gotta be at least twenty-five by now.”

  “Not all on one planet...”

  “No, of course not. They're spread all over the universe. I can't think of any planet that had more than one course. At least not while I was racing.”

  “Wow, that's got to be a ton of traveling.”

  Dar Sloane nodded inside his helmet, “Constantly.” He shrugged, “But there can be a lot of money in racing... the victory purses, sponsors, betting... I did OK, I won a few races, but it's nonstop, bone-weary exhausting... If you weren't racing, you were traveling, promoting, schmoozing sponsors, practicing, testing, tuning the equipment, fixing the Drifter... it was never-ending.”

  “So, how did you end up in the military?”

  The Commander smirked to himself. “Are you kidding? Bigger, faster, cooler equipment... and you get to blow shit up. It's like racing, cubed – with explosions added for fun. And somebody else takes care of the equipment. It doesn't get much better than that.”

  “No it doesn't,” laughed Jack.

  They might as well have had a couple beers and a bowl of pretzels between them. It was just two guys with a common interest passing the time with a topic that seemed to translate across the massive divide of their differences. It mattered not that they came from opposite ends of the universe and different cultures, that they were sitting in a couple of heavily armed star fighters cruising across deep space so far from home it was difficult to comprehend... That simple fact was never lost on Jack, the sheer expanse of space, its seeming infinite reaches, its supreme desolation, its intense spectrum of colors, its moments of terror, its unexplored territories, its boundless and surprising beauty.

  Most importantly the diversion was cathartic, taking Jack's mind off the complexities of recent events and the overwhelming expectations of his responsibilities. In comparison to the universe around them, his responsibilities seemed miniscule and insignificant. It was what he needed, a perspective that clearly illustrated how small his problems were in comparison to the big picture. A picture so infinite... Well, they were all just self-conscious, self-aware specs of dust racing though space. He wondered what Voorlak might say about that.

  The conversation had dropped off and it had been quiet for a while when they reached the farthest waypoint on the scheduled patrol route. “Outside waypoint, Admiral. Want to keep going?”

  “Nah, I'm good. Let's head back...”

  The Commander followed the Admiral's lead as the two Lancias pulled a tight arc, looping back toward the Conquest, their scanners finding nothing ahead or behind them.

  “So, Admiral... scuttlebutt is that...”

  Jack inhaled sharply. Please don't ask me about Veloria...

  “We're headed to your home system... Terran is it?”

  Jack exhaled, relieved. “Oh yeah... My home planet is Earth. We're going to head there via Ossomon...”

  “That's not exactly a direct route...”

  “No it's not. It's part of a patrol we missed when Fleet rerouted us to Velora Prime. Probably won't be anything there now though.”

  “Mmm,” acknowledged the Commander. “You never can tell, maybe we'll get lucky.”

  “We can hope,” joked Steele.

  ■ ■ ■

  There was something familiar about landing on the Conquest although Jack had never done it before, sort of like dèjá vu. Perhaps it was the familiarity of landing on the Freedom that made it feel like that... it was the same, yet different. Landing tandem – two abreast, on the Conquest was a fairly easy matter due to her width and depth, something that required a steady hand and rather precise flying when attempted on the Freedom. He speculated it might be possible to land three wide here.

  Having followed the directions from the deck crew to the port side of the flight deck, Steele shut down his systems in a marked parking area, pulling the handle on the canopy release. It popped with a hiss of air rushing in from the flight bay, bringing with it the smells of fuel, lubricants, electronics and hot metal. He sucked it in, almost tasting it, the mixture oddly enjoyable. The hydraulics hissed until the canopy reached its full extension, allowing him to stand up after unbelting. He stretched before plucking the comm and power umbilicals from his suit, allowing him to freely climb down the ladder to the deck.

  After setting his helmet on the wing root of his Lancia, Steele was removing his gloves when Commander Sloane ducked under the nose of his own fighter to greet the Admiral.

  “Good flying with you, sir,” he said, offering his hand. “I'm Commander Dar Sloane.”

  They shook hands briefly. “Good to meet you, Mr. Sloane.”

  “Can I buy you a drink in the lounge, Admiral?”

  Steele checked the curved screen of the new eGo wrapped around his wrist. Seeing nothing pressing, he saw no reason not to. “Sure, I can go for a cold one.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Lisa picked her eGo up off the desk an
d activated the screen, “Hello?” Her brother's face appeared in video form.

  “Come meet me in the lounge, will you?”

  “Sure,” she replied, “see you in about five minutes.” The video winked out, replaced by the welcome screen. She slid the eGo onto her wrist, grabbed her e-Pad and headed for the door from the Admiral's office to the bridge. Pausing at the door as it slid open, disappearing into the wall, she pointed back at Fritz and Gus, “You guys stay here and be good.” She did a double take as she caught Fritz making a silly face at her. Lisa shook her head and passed out onto the bridge, heading for the main corridor. “Damn dog is too smart for his own good,” she muttered, hustling past the Marine sentry who flicked a glance in her direction.

  The eGo on her wrist was a great tool for finding her way around the ship, the screen displaying a live, active floor plan, plotting her location. She could input her destination and the eGo would display routes much like a GPS. If there was an area of the ship that was compromised, blocked or damaged, it would tell her that too and route her around it in real time. Like the Admiral and the Captain's eGos, hers was tied into the ship's systems, communications and sensors, allowing her access to nearly everything the senior staff had access to. This allowed her to fulfill her position as aide to the Admiral, but her position and responsibilities were not indicative of her rank as a mere officer cadet.

  When Lisa got to the lounge she was stopped inside the entry by the hostess, “I'm sorry Cadet, this is the Officers Lounge,” the woman said politely, stalling her with a wave, “you're not an officer... Not yet anyway. You can't go in.”

  “Oh,” smiled Lisa, “I'm the Admiral's aide, he asked me to meet him here...”

  The hostess looked her up and down slyly, not sure whether to believe her or not. “Well he is here, let me check with him...”

  “Oh, no need,” said Lisa pulling up the sleeve of her uniform blouse to reveal the screen of her eGo. “I'll just let him know I'm here...”

  The hostess knew they didn't hand those devices out to just anybody. “Follow me, Cadet... welcome to the Officers Lounge.”

  Well appointed, the lounge wasn't extravagant but it was very nice, decorated with rich wood trim, polished brass, stainless steel, glass and crystal. Winding their way between the tables, Lisa inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of finely grilled steaks, reminding her she'd skipped lunch. She glanced at the food on the tables she passed, this was much nicer than the galley food. Not that the galley food was bad, but this was like a fine restaurant.

  The Hostess paused and pointed the rest of the way, “Last booth on the right,” she said politely.

  “Ah, there she is,” waved Jack, “sit... sit.” Lisa slid into the booth next to her brother, a bowl of munchies sitting between the two men, drinks on the table. “Lisa, this is Commander Dar Sloane,” he waved. “Dar, this is my aide, Lisa Steele...”

  Dar reached across the table to shake her hand, “Nice to meet you.” He glanced at Jack, “Is this your sister?”

  Jack nodded, popping a chip into his mouth, “Yep.”

  Dar grinned in Lisa's direction, “I heard you're a tough gal. Survived a punch out, survived in the wilderness and made friends with locals... is that all true?”

  “And then some,” she boasted. “Fought some Volkens too...”

  The Commander cocked his head to one side, “What's a Volken?”

  Jack raised his index finger, “Think very large, hairy, fast, cat-wolf-bear thing, with a really bad attitude and saber teeth...”

  Dar Sloane snorted a chuckle, “You're kidding, right?”

  “Totally serious,” said Lisa. “Insanely vicious. And they hunt in packs. Scariest things I've ever seen...” She glanced at her brother, “Four hundred pounds?”

  Jack nodded. “I'd have to say that was probably the average... some had to be closer to six or seven hundred pounds though.”

  “That's a monster,” blurted Dar.

  “You have no idea,” waved Jack, “until one is standing over you, looking down at you like you're lunch...”

  “Speaking of which,” interjected Lisa, “Can we order food? I'm starving...”

  CHAPTER THREE

  UFW CARRIER CONQUEST, IRUJEN SYSTEM

  Dar Sloane had taken Lisa out for a flight in one of the Conquest's two-seat fighter trainers to see the spectacle of New Vanus before the task force reached the gate to Irujen. That little jaunt continued to be a topic of conversation... along with Dar Sloane. Jack wasn't sure if she was more excited about flying a fighter-trainer, the celestial display of New Vanus or Commander Sloane. In retrospect, Jack supposed it didn't really matter... what mattered was that she was adjusting well, coping, not only to her new surroundings and situation, but to the loss of her friend, Nina Redwolf.

  Jack was standing at the chart table in his office, making notes on the 3D hologram when Lisa strolled in from the bridge, the door hissing closed behind her. Gus bounced up off the floor and trotted over to greet her.

  “Our delivery from Resurrection Station just landed in the bay.”

  “Good, did we get all the parts we ordered?”

  She shook her head, “I don't know, I haven't seen the manifest yet, it just touched down.”

  “Ok, so let's go take a look...”

  Lisa pointed at her eGo, “We'll - get - the - manifest - here...” she said slowly. “Or here...” she added, indicating her e-Pad.

  “Well, I'd like to get out of my office, take a walk and go see, if you don't mind.”

  She waggled her finger at her brother, “You want to make sure the old CAG gets off the ship, don't you...” It was more a statement than a question.

  Jack made a face of distaste. “Mmm, sue me, there's something about him I don't trust.” Jack slid his eGo onto his wrist. “I got Dayle Alaroot to put a couple of our Marines on our friend... keep an eye on him.”

  “Dar said he was a real hardass... kind of an asshole,” Lisa volunteered. Jack shot her a glance. “Yeah, I know, I know,” she waved. “Respect. For your information he wants me to call him Dar... and yes, I know I have to make sure not to do it out there.”

  Jack didn't reply, just smirked, waving her out the door, the halves disappearing into the wall. Pausing in the doorway he looked back, “You coming?” Fritz nodded and sliding off the sofa, stretched leisurely as Gus trotted past him. “Don't let me rush you or anything...” said Steele, sarcastically.

  “OK,” replied the dog with a toothy grin. He sauntered out past his human, onto the bridge. Having gotten used to their presence, the bridge crew paid no attention to the two dogs. “Where we go?” asked Fritz.

  “Flight bay,” offered Lisa. “We're going to spend an hour doing what we could have done comfortably in the office in five minutes...”

  “Why?” he asked looking up at her as they walked down the corridor, Jack and Gus trailing behind.

  “You got me,” she shrugged, nodding slyly towards her brother, “it wasn't my idea...”

  “Funny,” said Jack, “but you know, he doesn't always understand when you're kidding...”

  “Yes I do,” muttered the dog. “It just not funny...”

  “Oh, damn!” laughed Jack, “Burn!”

  ■ ■ ■

  The freight shuttle was parked off to the right of the traffic and landing lanes, crew members loading and unloading hoverdollies from the shuttle to the deck and to the large cargo movers. The pilot was leaning against the boarding ladder to the cockpit chatting with a deckhand from the Conquest.

  “Coming to see me off, Admiral?” asked the retiring CAG sarcastically. “I'm flattered.”

  Ignoring the frosty reception, Steele passed him a data chip. “The UFW Directorate would like me to extend their sincere gratitude for your service, Commander. There is a nice little early retirement bonus included in your pension documents... it's on page ten, I believe...”

  “Save it, Admiral,” he waved. “You're taking away a whole year of service and I'm getting
a little bonus. That sucks and you know it. I'm getting screwed...”

  “On the contrary,” countered Jack. “Your bonus is a full year and you're getting a full pension... Do yourself a favor Commander, take a vacation, you deserve one. Go see your family. Go...”

  “Screw that, Admiral,” he waved, “this is all I know. I've got nobody out there...”

  Steele remained stoic. “Then move to the private sector, Commander. There are hundreds of companies who could put a man with your experience to good use. And the pay is certainly...”

  “Maybe I'll go sign on with the FreeRangers...” the Commander said with an evil grin. “I hear their pay is pretty good...”

  Steele's jaw set and he exuded calm, though the Commander didn't know it was the calm before the storm if he continued to push. “You could do that. But it would be a mistake. A big one. At a minimum, you can kiss your pension goodbye. On the other hand, it could be seen as treason. I'm sure you're well aware of the military punishment for treason...”

  “I'm not military anymore,” he waved the data chip. “I'm a civilian...”

  Dar Sloane strolled up and nudged Lisa who was standing next to Marine Warrant Officer, Dayle Alaroot, “Hey, what's going on?” he nodded toward the conversation between the Admiral and the retiring Commander.

  “Hello Commander,” Lisa said sweetly. “The Admiral just gave the CAG his walking papers and the CAG is not happy.”

  “Oh,” nodded Dar, knowingly. “He's being himself... a total asshole.”

  “He's doing it to the wrong person,” interjected Dayle. He exchanged glances with Corporal Dunnom on the far side of the shuttle's cargo ramp, the two Marines communicating wordlessly. “He's about to have a very bad day if he's not careful.”

  “Think the Admiral would toss him in the brig?” asked Dar.

  Dayle Alaroot smirked wickedly, “I'm more worried the CAG is going to push too far and the Admiral's going to permanently rearrange his face... and a few choice body parts.”