Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “You're joking...”

  “Nope,” replied Lisa. “He is not someone to be fucked with.”

  Dar Sloan's eyes widened. “Really... because the CAG is a scrapper... every time we had leave, we were pulling him out of a bar fight...”

  “He's in over his head...” said Dayle, not taking his eyes off the two men. “Trust me...”

  Fritz was keeping an eye on the altercation as well, circling slowly to a flank position, reading their body language and testing the air with his nose for the chemical changes that telegraphed a physical confrontation. The air was thick with testosterone and the CAG looked agitated. Agitated but unfocused, indecisive, nervous. Jack was calm but guarded, his hands open and ready.

  Dar was trying to listen but couldn't hear the words. “I can't hear them, can you?”

  Lisa shook her head, “No, too much noise.” She glanced around at the heavy cargo units moving past.

  The CAG was pointing now, poking at the Admiral without touching him. Dayle Alaroot nodded over at Corporal Dunnom. “We've decided if he touches the Admiral, we take him down.”

  “Might be best for him,” commented Lisa. They watched Jack rest his hand on the top of the CAG's shoulder, it appeared to be a friendly, comforting gesture. “OK, I wasn't expecting that...”

  “Nope,” confirmed Dayle, “went a completely different way than I thought it...” The CAG shuddered once, like a small convulsion, his arms flopping to his side before he went completely limp and collapsed to the deck like a bowl of spilled spaghetti. “OK, wasn't expecting that either,” said Dayle, stepping quickly to the Admiral's side.

  “You OK, Admiral?”

  Jack took a deep cleansing breath, “I'm fine Dayle.” He looked down at the unconscious CAG, a circle of people appearing to all take a look. “He just would not shut the hell up...”

  Dayle Alaroot looked over at the Admiral, “You'll have to show me how you did that sometime, sir.”

  “Sure thing, Dayle.”

  “What do you want us to do with him? Brig? Medical?”

  “No, no, he'll be fine in about a half hour. He'll probably have a headache though... Just find a seat and strap him in. Let him be someone else's problem.” Steele shook his head as the two Marines lifted the unconscious man off the deck. “He's got some serious anger issues...” Steele turned back as the two Marines dragged the former CAG's limp form up the cargo ramp. “Oh, and scan his gear. I want to be sure whatever he's taking is rightfully his...”

  ■ ■ ■

  The Officer's Club was full. But when the Admiral shows up with the ship's Captain, you find them a table. Period. Even when there's a dog in the mix. No arguments. The hostess had no problem finding them a booth, and the officers she moved offered no complaint, moving to the bar with their food and drinks.

  Jack laid his e-Pad on the table as they seated themselves, ordering their dinner and drinks. He found himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking into laughter when Fritz ordered his own steak, meduim-rare of course. The waitress' stunned expression was priceless as she stared wide-eyed at the dog sitting like a gentleman at the back of the booth.

  Jack waited until she was out of earshot. “So, Mr. Ryan...” he said leaning in, “we've got quite a stash of parts that came in for the work on the flight bay's stasis field emitters. Not enough to do every launch bay, but a little more than half. We cleaned Resurrection Station out of their entire stock. Any ideas where we can pick up a few more along the way?”

  “We can detour to Blackmount...”

  Jack looked down at the blank e-Pad screen, thinking. “That's quite a detour. I'd rather not...” His eyes flicked up and he leaned back against the booth.

  Captain Ryan rubbed his chin in thought, “We can order the parts from Tanzia, Phi Lanka or Yarwa Station... they might be able to get them into our next resupply.”

  “Might, hmmm...” Steele pinched his lower lip. “When's our next resupply?”

  The Captain paged through several screens on his eGo. “A resupply ship is due to meet us in forty-six days.”

  “And if our parts miss that transport?”

  Ryan shrugged, “If they send it direct through a parts shipper, maybe the same time frame. If not, it could be more than three months.”

  Jack shook his head, “I don't want to wait that long. Are there any places on our patrol route that might have some of what we need?”

  Anthony Ryan had been around the proverbial block a few times, if the block was the galaxy... He closed his eyes and bowed his head, reviewing the chart in his mind which he found easier than trying to see it on the small screen of the eGo. He suddenly looked up, “Rikovik's Reef...”

  “Is that a system or a planet?” interrupted Steele.

  “A system. There's not much there, except the rock in the middle of the system where it get's it's name. It's what's left of a mined-out asteroid field. A guy named Rikovik crash-landed on the rock about a hundred years ago and since they couldn't get back off, started a station. The mine offices and equipment were abandoned there so he had the tools... It's expanded into a trade hub of sorts. The station sits on it and runs through it.”

  “Must be a pretty big rock...”

  The Captain nodded, “About fifteen or sixteen miles across.”

  “That is a pretty big rock,” mused Jack, “gotta be about fifty miles around, then...”

  “Well it's not exactly round,” countered the Ryan. “It's more oblong with a flat side. They say he was trying to land on the flat side to salvage the equipment and went in a little hot. Wasn't even close to his landing zone...”

  “Bad planning?”

  “Drinking,” smirked the Captain. “He was hammered at the time.”

  “I'll bet the crew was thrilled...”

  “They were all drunk, as I heard it,” he waved. “Sat on that rock for a month until the alcohol was all gone. When they sobered up, they went to work. The thing now spans across to another rock and they've fastened the two together. ”

  “So this is more than a station, it's a small inhabited planetoid...”

  “Oh yeah. It's not pretty, but it's got its charms I guess. They have manufacturing, agriculture, warehousing... The population wavers, but I hear it's about a hundred-thousand people. It's got a healthy black market too. And because of its relative remoteness, there's usually an abundance of parts...”

  Steele sipped his drink. “Sounds worthy of a look.”

  “Of course we might have a little problem there...”

  “What's that?”

  “They're fairly neutral,” explained Ryan, “but let's just say their clientele isn't totally enamored with the UFW.”

  “Pirates?”

  “They preferred to be called FreeRangers, but yes. Pirates, freelancers, traders, shippers, smugglers, corporations...”

  “Wonderful. Interesting mix.”

  “Yes, it is. So in light of their favored clientele, they might refuse to deal with us.”

  “Hmm,” nodded Jack, “I can be pretty convincing.” “

  “I've noticed that...” smirked Ryan, sipping his drink.

  “I'm sure we can come to some agreement that will make everyone happy.”

  The Captain leaned back so the waitress could put the plates of food on the table, the steaks still sizzling, fresh off the grill. “It's sure to ruffle a few feathers but I expect we'll get what we need if they have it.”

  Steele glanced at Fritz as a little string of drool left the corner of his mouth. “You're drooling...” Jack began cutting up the dog's steak for him.

  “Sorry,” mumbled the dog, licking his chops. “Smells good.”

  Annoyed, not too understanding of the animals as friends thing, Anthony Ryan tried not to look, instead concentrating on his own meal. “Umm, so, where were we?”

  Jack sipped his wine. “You were going to tell me why you let some of these things go, why you hadn't taken care of these issues earlier...”

  �
��Permission to speak freely, Admiral?”

  “Sure.”

  “I did not have operational control of the Conquest. Admiral Pottsdorn...”

  “Was nuts. I understand,” interrupted Jack. “There was no way of circumventing him to get things done and ensure the safety of your crew?”

  The Captain stopped mid-chew, sighing pensively. “In many respects I was powerless to do anything without his approval. He had six aides. One was always present on the bridge, another with him round the clock. On shifts. They kept track of everything whether he was present or not. It was maddening.” He tried not to watch the dog eating off the plate on the table but it was difficult to ignore. He looked away.

  “So you gave up then?” asked Jack, sampling his vegetables.

  “No, I did what I could under the confines of the restraints put upon me.”

  “Did you ever inform the Fleet Admiral or the Directorate of what was going on?” Steele stabbed a piece of steak with his fork.

  “No sir. That would not have succeeded, I don't have the same kind of status or recognition...” he paused awkwardly, “you seem to have garnered. Anything coming from my position would have fallen on deaf ears.”

  “I understand,” waved Steele. “I'll tell you what I need from you Anthony...” he said, pointing an empty fork in the officer's direction. “Honesty and open communication. I've read your record, you've got quite a distinguished career. Before Pottsdorn. You've been living under a glass for the last five years. But Pottsdorn's gone, that's over now. So I need you to be the officer you were before the crazy years. Can you do that?”

  “Of course.” He eyed the young Admiral sitting across the table from him.

  “OK, Captain, I can see your mind working... out with it.”

  Ryans' eyes shifted to the dog and back to Steele. “With all due respect, sir, I'm wondering if I've traded one type of crazy for another.”

  Steele took no offense to the comment, ready with an immediate reply. “I suppose that depends on how you look at things, Anthony.” He slid his drink to the center of the table. “Is this glass half full or half empty?” he gestured at the glass, not waiting for a reply. “Some might say half full, some might say half empty depending on their view. If you're thirsty, it's half empty. If you're satiated, it's half full.” He retrieved the glass and took a sip.

  “What is it now?” asked the Ryan, thinking there was another point.

  “That was nothing, I was thirsty.”

  “Oh.”

  “So for five years,” continued Steele, “you've been running on empty, with little or no control. Now, you have nearly complete control. Is that crazy or smart? From Pottsdorn's viewpoint, that would be crazy. From my viewpoint, you know your ship and people, which makes it smart.”

  “Viewpoint...” nodded Ryan.

  “And of course,” added Jack, flippantly, “there's good crazy - which is smart, and there's bad crazy - which is, well, just plain wackadoodle. I'm the kind you want.”

  “Good crazy,” confirmed the Captain.

  “Exactly.”

  “Good, because we've had our fill of the other kind, what did you call it..?”

  “Wackadoodle.”

  “Right, wackadoodle.”

  “Just remember this, Mr. Ryan - we may do things that wander outside the lines of what the Admiralty and Directorate consider normal operations, but we get things done.”

  Captain Ryan thought about Steele's actions and results against the Pirate carrier in the battle of Velora Prime. “I've seen that.”

  “I'm not a real big fan of red tape,” said Steele, “or the bureaucratic cesspool people call politics... My best assessment is someone goes into politics because they can't get a real job, so they make a place for themselves telling other people how to do things they themselves have never done before.”

  “Or tell people how to live on planets they've never been to before...” volunteered the Captain. “It is shameful...”

  Jack let it be quiet for a moment, just eating. “So we understand each other then?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “OK, good. I think our first order of business, is to take care of our ships. I want to categorize all the mechanical issues with the Conquest... and the battleship Westwind if she has any problems. We will do our best to get whatever is needed to bring both of these ships back to one-hundred percent readiness... this includes mechanical, operational or personnel. If we have anyone like the CAG who is gravel in our gears, let's pull em out. We need to communicate openly on these issues but they need to be handled so they don't cause bigger issues for us later.”

  “Understood.” Captain Ryan eyed Fritz finishing off his meal, licking the plate clean. “So, completely open communications between us, but I get to handle most things as I see fit...?”

  “Yes, Captain. This is your ship...”

  “Thank you, sir.” He eyed the dog, who was casually monitoring the conversation. “I'm not really comfortable with him on the bridge,” he said, indicating Fritz. “Or having him in the Officer's Club much less eating at the table...”

  “Except that,” said Steele slyly.

  Ryan pursed his lips, nodding. “Duly noted.”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Jack, check this out!” blurted Lisa as she entered the Admiral's office, her arms laden with small boxes. The bridge door swished closed behind her with a hiss and she unceremoniously dumped the boxes in a pile on the sofa. She spun around and slid a small device across his deck that looked like any number of flat modern cell phones from Earth.

  “You found my cell phone?” he frowned, puzzled.

  “That's your new e-Pad. It's called the h-Pad mini. Touch the screen,” she pointed, grinning. The glass screen was 2 ½ inches wide and 5 inches long, the whole thing less than a half inch thick.

  He touched the screen and a little blue diode lit up, projecting a full color holo-screen above it, positioned like a tactical monitor. “Holy crap...”

  “Touch the screen...” she prompted. “You can actually feel it.”

  Jack reached out and tested the screen with his fingertips actually feeling resistance in the form of an electronic buzz. “That's amazing...”

  Lisa moved around to his side of the desk and reached out. “Watch this,” she said, grabbing the corner of the screen and pulling it outward, the screen growing in size. She tilted the screen back and forth, then pinched the corner again and moved the edge back in, making it smaller. “You can position it any way you want. It also takes verbal commands and responds verbally...”

  “Where did these come from?”

  “The transport. The pilot said they came in from Fleet Supply on Tanzia, they'd been trying to deliver them to the Conquest for ages... The delivery courier got tired of chasing the Admiral around and finally just left them at Resurrection.”

  “Pottsdorn...” muttered Jack in disgust, touching the screen's icons, paging to other information. “Remind me to bitch slap that man if I ever see him again...” He turned the device, realizing the back of the holo-screen was blank, the information only displayed to the viewer of the device. “Nice...” He offhandedly wondered how it accomplished that.

  “It gets better...” said Lisa, tearing open another box. She dug out the contents, holding up a smaller, more streamlined eGo. “Meet the eGo-h.”

  “Holographic?”

  “Yeppir. And at half the size,” she said, tossing it to him.

  He caught it and examined it closely. The 2 inch by 3 ½ inch screen was smaller than the curved screen of the older unit but it was more streamlined and much nicer looking. “The screen's a little smaller...”

  “That's OK, because you can use the device screen or the holo-screen, just like on the h-Pad mini.” She pointed at the eGo on his wrist. “If you'll give me your old one, I'll take care of it.” He pulled the old one off and slid it across the desk at her. “Now,” she continued, “the new one is more of a personal unit. It's secure. Once you use it, n
o one else can use it or even activate it...”

  “That's very cool...” he said, sliding it on his wrist, fitting the clasp. “Ow..! What the fuck?” mumbled Jack, taking it back off.

  “Yeah, you didn't let me finish,” she chuckled. “It samples your blood and DNA when you first put it on. Mine did the same thing...”

  Try as he might, he could find no marks on his wrist. He slid it carefully back on, “It won't do it again...”

  “No, just once. Stop,” she said holding her hand out to stay him from doing anything else. “Before you start her... She's going to ask your name and how you want to be addressed... so give it some thought before you turn her on... OK,” she waved, “That didn't come out right, but you get the idea.”

  “Her?”

  “Yeah, her name is TESS. It stands for Tactical Engine Synthetic Service, the personality it's assigned is female. I don't think you can turn her off once you... activate her...”

  Jack smirked at Lisa's wording.

  “Shut up,” she warned.

  “OK...”

  “Remember, it's a computer, it's very literal...”

  Jack pushed the small button along the eGo's edge, watching the screen come to life and flicker through its startup process. “Something tells me this is more than our other report and communication devices.”

  Lisa nodded, “Oh yeah. A lot more. And there's no manual...”

  “What? Why the hell not?”

  “How the hell do I know,” Lisa shrugged, “I didn't build it.” She started gathering the boxes and old equipment. “I'll be back later, I'm going to distribute these things to the senior staff... When I'm done here, I'll be heading over to the Westwind to deliver theirs, then to the Revenge...”

  “Super,” nodded Jack approvingly, “maybe Maria can give you some more stick time...”

  “Stick time? I've been soloing for a couple days now.”

  “Hello, I'm TESS, Tactical Engine Synthetic Service, who are you?”

  Jack's eyes went wide. “You've soloed?”

  “Hello, Youve Soloed...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Maria had tears in her eyes and her cheeks hurt from laughing. “So did he finally get it straight?”