Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “Hold on, Hold on...” Maria physically caught her, hauling her in to a stop. “He's OK...” she insisted, placing herself in front of Lisa, forcing her to focus eye-to-eye. “He's fine... look at me, he's fine.”

  “What about the woman who came in with him? Somebody said she didn't make it... She saved his life...”

  “I know. She's alive,” replied Maria calmly. “They're stabilizing her before they do surgery.” She steered Lisa back the way she came, “Let's get you something to eat, and you can tell me what happened down there while he wakes up...”

  As hungry as she was, Lisa picked at her food, concentrating on relaying the events for Maria who was debriefing her as gently as she could.

  “Uh, Ensign? Lieutenant?” The deck hand that had assisted Lisa gave a clumsy salute, a bundle under his arm. “Sorry to interrupt, but we found this strapped into your rear seat...” he handed her flight jacket to her, bundled around Jack's zombie room laptop. “Thought you might need it...”

  “Thank you...” Lisa accepted it, unwrapping the leather jacket to find the laptop intact. She glanced at him a little sheepishly, “Sorry if I was a little short with...”

  “Forget it,” he interrupted, brushing it off. “I understand.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Jack, completely awake and alert, was sitting up when Lisa and Maria entered, Fritz laying on the bed at his feet. The doctor, CABL M7, Computer Assisted Biological Lifeform, was reviewing the patient vitals on the holo-screen above the bed, making notes simply by pointing at the information quadrant and dictating his orders. His artificial right eye, designed for microsurgery, looked like a camera lens, whirring quietly as it focused. “You can return to duty tomorrow, but only with a TRS brace, Tissue Regeneration Stimulator,” he pointed at the Admiral, “But no flying. Of any kind. For any reason... I mean it.”

  Steele held up his hands in surrender, “OK, Doc, I get it. When do you think I can fly again?”

  “When it's healed...”

  “How long do you think that will be..?”

  “It will heal when it heals.”

  Steele propped himself up on one elbow, “How's our guest?”

  “We have her in a torpedo, in an induced coma...”

  Jack frowned, “A torpedo?”

  CABL M7 did something that resembled an awkward shrug, “A nickname. It's an MPOT, a Magnetic Pressurized Oxygen Tube. It aids in healing and tissue regeneration.” He held his arm up as a demonstration, “It appears she had her arm elevated in this manner. The projectile entered above her protective gear under her arm here,” he pointed at his armpit. “It broke a rib, went through her lung and stopped against her spine.” He put his arm down. “Since the projectile was flatly deformed and appeared to lack substantive power, I surmised it was likely a ricochet off the Sergeant's armor. Had it not, it would have surely killed her. As it is we had to reconstruct her lung and the vertebrae is cracked with surrounding tissue trauma...”

  “Is she paralyzed?”

  “No Admiral, I don't think so. But we have everything aligned and she must remain still for a while. The bone adhesive will become bone in time, but it needs time to harden.” He turned to leave and paused, “Do you know her name? I don't have anything to put on her files...”

  Jack stared blankly for a moment, searching his mind, “I don't remember...”

  Maria had walked past the curtain on the other side of the room, peering down at the woman laying on the gel foam pad inside the clear half-tube, a curved stasis field completing the open top of the tube. The stasis field distorted the view so she squatted to look through the curved glass side. “Mercedes Huang...” she said, standing up. “Mercy to her friends.”

  Lisa moved to the side of the MPOT, staring through the glass, “You know her?”

  Maria stepped back out into Jack's view followed by Lisa. “Yep. We went through Quantico together. Haven't seen or heard from her in seven or eight years...”

  “Her vest said FBI,” offered Jack, “I remember that much.”

  “Mmm,” nodded Maria, “same place to train, but she's CIA. We graduated in the same class. Last I heard, she was working with military intelligence over in the Middle East.”

  “Then what the hell is she doing with the FBI?”

  “Judging by what Lisa's been telling me, that wasn't FBI...”

  “Then who was it?”

  “Don't know. You killed them all.” She reached over Fritz and patted Jack's foot through the hospital linens, “Nice going by the way.” She thumbed over at the MPOT hidden by the curtain, “She'll be the only one who can tell us.”

  Steele ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “Y'know, I know they're kind of necessary and all, but I really hate spies...”

  “Yeah, thanks for the love...”

  “Sorry, but you people bring it on yourselves.”

  “You people? Are you being racist?” she joked, thickening her Latin accent on purpose.

  “You spies,” he hissed.

  Maria moved to the side of the bed, “Scootch over, scootch scootch...” She climbed up, sitting next to him, Lisa standing on the other side looking on. “TESS?”

  “Yes, Maria?”

  TESS' holo-screen popped up and Maria grabbed it, making it much larger, moving it further away for them all to see. “That brings us to our next problem...”

  Steele cupped his hands over his face, “Do I really want to know?”

  “I think you do,” she replied.

  “OK,” he sighed, his hands dropping to his lap.

  A series of nighttime pictures of a very large building fronting along the water next to a bridge came up on the screen. It was concrete, steel and glass, semi-modern with an institutional flair to it. It looked like an office building but had an abundance of cameras and walls that looked more than decorative, hinted at something else. Something about the cars on the street looked odd but he couldn't put his finger on it... Until he noticed the double-decker bus in the background. Then it hit him, they were all driving on the opposite side of the street. “London?”

  “Good guess... do you know the building?”

  Steele shook his head, butterflies gathering in his stomach, “No, should I?”

  “It's MI6 Headquarters in London. SIS, Secret Intelligence Service... The British version of the CIA.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because our company had a listening post in an office right across the street. I've been there, standing right in the spot this picture was taken from.”

  “So we're talking about Derrik, now...”

  “MmmHmm,” she affirmed. “Dar Sloane and Dale Alaroot were on Derrik's landing detail. Something aroused their suspicions and Dale was able to track Derrik to MI6 and watched him enter the building. In Dale's words; like he owned the place.”

  “Holy crap...” he groaned, giving Maria the evil eye. “You lived with him, I thought you said you would have noticed something.”

  “Yeaah, weelll... I guess he's better than I am.”

  The evil eye transformed into something more mischievous, “Were you like the worst spy ever, or something?”

  Lisa looked away, “Ouch.”

  Maria raised an eyebrow, “No. Fuck you very much.” She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “So... what do you want to do about it?”

  Jack leaned back against his pillows, “Dammit. I didn't really expect it to be someone from our original circle...”

  Maria's face scrunched into a frown, “What the hell? You had no issues throwing me into the brig, but when it's one of the boys...” She folded her arms in defiance, “And then you left me there...” she grumbled.

  Jack raised his hands, “For the gazillionth time, I'm sorry. Are you going to start throwing cups and flatware again?” From reflex of thought he reached up and touched the spot on his forehead where she had caught him with a coffee cup.

  “I've grown out of throwing things,” she replied smugly, “I prefer
shooting things now...” She tapped on TESS' holographic screen, “So? What are we going to do?”

  “Mmm, nothing tonight. We'll take a ride over there tomorrow... Have you told anyone else?”

  “No one else knows but Dar Sloane and Dale Alaroot. They didn't even tell the other members of the landing detail.”

  “Good, keep it that way. Then we can...”

  “Aren't you forgetting something?” interrupted Lisa, emphasizing with mock sign language; “You. Can't. Fly. How do you plan on getting over there?”

  “I won't be flying, I'll be riding.” He started laughing, “OK I can't even say it with a straight face...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Unable to sleep, Chase Holt lay in bed half-watching the news replay on the one o'clock news, hoping there would be some new footage or reporting angle. It was all the same rehashed stuff, the newscasters simply massaging it a different way. Chase wondered why this event had been different from the others, the government making no effort to deny, debunk or remove the telecasts like they did with Caroline Murphy's news special. Too many witnesses? It happened in broad daylight and thousands of people saw it. Or perhaps the administration decided it was the perfect diversion from the latest crisis on the Mexican border. His eyelids were heavy but his mind refused to shut down. He almost missed the chime tone from his laptop sitting on the night stand, debating if he should look or leave it till morning. He glanced over at Karen sleeping next to him and reached over cautiously to lift the laptop without shifting on the bed.

  Venturing into the Deep Web he logged into the message board, a marker showing the new message that had pinged his notifier;

  From: Starwalker & Wonderdog. Plans didn't go well today, you may have heard about it. Picked up a little lead condition, but the dark side paid dearly. Returned topside, will recover fully. Ma & Pa invisible? Need to locate. Brotherly assistance requested.

  To avoid trigger-words warranting a closer look by NSA software, it was common to creatively hide words and meanings. Just because it was harder to find you on the Deep Web didn't mean you could use it as an excuse to be stupid or careless. Chase typed back a message confirming his understanding, and that he would inquire about his parents though he had no idea where to start. He added a question about how Jack was able to reach the web.

  From: Starwalker & Wonderdog. Borrow sat lite.

  Chase laughed out loud, “Son of a bitch is hijacking a satellite signal from space...”

  Karen rolled over, “Huh?”

  “Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, I'll tell you in the morning.” He laid the laptop on the end table, finally feeling like he could nod off.

  ■ ■ ■

  Steele was almost dressed by the time Lisa and Maria came to collect him, a nurse having to help him with his boots. Finished tucking and straightening, he strapped the hybrid 1911 around his waist and draped his leather flight jacket over his arm.

  “Take your cane Admiral,” said the nurse intercepting him at the infirmary door.

  He closed his eyes momentarily, “I don't need the cane.”

  She pointed at the armor-like device strapped around his wounded thigh, “I know it feels snug, but the stimulator will not provide enough support... you need to keep your full weight off the leg. The Doctor will not be happy if he has to readdress work he's already done.” She held out the cane, “He can always order a hoverchair if you'd prefer...” Jack made a face of derision and took the cane without a word. “He is allowing you to transport over to the Conquest...”

  “And I appreciate that,” said Jack leaving the room. “Considering it's my Task Force...”

  “What's that, Admiral?”

  Steele cleared his throat, “Nothing...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Having pulled the Conquest and Westwind out of the Moon's shadow and into formation with the Revenge in Earth's synchronous orbit, making them geostationary, put them all in full view of anyone with a telescope in North or South America, day or night. After yesterday's adventure, Steele thought it best to display his hand. It also made the shuttle ride over to the Conquest rather short, making the doctor much more comfortable about letting him travel.

  Climbing in and out of the shuttle was a bit awkward, more than a little uncomfortable sitting in the contoured seats, the tissue regeneration stimulator clamshelled around his thigh hindering a comfortable seated position. He was glad to be out and vertical but the walk from the flight bay to the bridge was longer than he remembered it being. Of course he'd never paid much attention to it before... Thank God for elevators to take them up five decks.

  Steele dropped himself gingerly onto the sofa so he could keep his leg extended on a soft, level surface, leaning back against the armrest. “Holy crap, that feels good,” he sighed. Fritz plopped himself down at his human's free hand, nosing for a pat and getting a scratch behind the ears.

  “You lost a lot of blood yesterday, you have a right to be tired,” Lisa commented, leaning against the holo-chart table. “Did they check your dipstick this morning?”

  “Funny,” he said flatly.

  Maria sat behind his desk, “I've got breakfast coming up; you're probably hungry, I know I am...” She leaned forward, “So what's the plan?”

  I talked to Dale Alaroot before we left, his security detail will wait until Derrik gets here before he posts... I don't want him preparing his head, I want him off-guard.”

  “He's MI6, Jack, I don't think that's necessarily much of an advantage... Think James Bond.”

  Steele shrugged, “Maybe, but I'll take what I can get. I also don't want him jumping a bird and rabbiting to the surface where we could lose him...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Commander Derrik Brighton strode through the bridge doors and waited at-ease to be noticed, saluting to Captain Ryan when he caught his attention. “Commander Brighton, reporting as requested...”

  “I believe that was the Admiral,” directed the Captain, pointing towards the Admiral's office.

  “Thank you, sir.” Derrik saluted, turned on his heel and headed for the door, which slid open with a hiss. He stepped inside and saluted, “Admiral.”

  Jack returned the salute, “Derrik, good to see you. How was your visit?”

  The Commander stepped forward to shake Steele's hand, “Not as eventful as yours, I hear. Are you alright?” he motioned to the TRS on Steele's thigh.

  Steele surmised the answer was deflection disguised as courtesy. “Oh, I'm fine.” He waved to a chair, “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. We just ate but there's plenty left. Have you eaten yet?” He glanced at his sister, “Lisa, make a plate for the Commander...”

  “Oh that's not necessary,” interjected the Commander, sitting comfortably in a chair across the desk from Maria. “I've eaten. Thank you though.” He indicated Steele's leg, “So what happened out there?”

  It felt like a clear misdirection, an attempt to steer the conversation and Steele knew Commander Brighton sensed there was something amiss. “A major clusterfuck happened. Trying to find my parents and the government getting in the way. Same as always,” shrugged Jack. “Does Great Britain have those same issues, Derrik? Did you encounter this kind of stuff going to see your parents?”

  His earpiece tweeted, Dale Alaroot's voice in his ear, “Security detail posted, Admiral.”

  “Just my mother, Admiral,” corrected Derrik. “No, our visit had no issues. I don't think the British are quite as paranoid as you Americans...”

  It was impressive to note that the details were so programmed in, he corrected Steele without hesitation or thought. But what Jack found odd, was that while he was being casual and friendly, Derrik maintained military protocol. “Well I'm glad you had a chance to see your mom, was she surprised?” Steele watched for facial tells but saw nothing he could latch onto. His overall impression was the Commander was suspicious but his calm and controlled demeanor made it difficult to read. He was too calm, too controlled.

 
; His earpiece tweeted, Dale Alaroot's voice in his ear again, “Search team found a Comm unit in Commander Brighton's quarters, Admiral. When we attempted to check the transmission logs it erased itself, destroying all data...”

  Listening to Dale, Steele missed most of what the Commander had said but it didn't really matter. He feigned interest and nodded almost imperceptibly to Maria.

  Maria enlarged her TESS' screen, turning it around to face the room and Derrik. She moved from her seat to the corner of the desk, flicking up the first photo. “Commander, can you tell me what building this is?”

  Derrik raised an eyebrow, making a show of scrutinizing it, “It's terribly dark...”

  Maria flipped to the next photo, and the next, “How about this one? Or this one?”

  “Are they all of the same building? I can't really tell...” the Commander said innocently.

  “We thought they might be your grandmother's building...” offered Jack.

  “Mother. And now that you mention it...”

  “Aww, COME ON!” exploded Maria. “Are you kidding me with this act?” She flicked the screen and it winked out. “That's MI6 Headquarters and you know it. You were seen entering and coming back out an hour later. So why don't you cut the shit before I beat...”

  Derrik could see the personal hurt on her face. “I'm sorry, darling...”

  “Don't you..!” she shook her finger at him. “Don't you darling me, you lying limey bastard, or I'll kick...”

  “Don't make me have to get up,” Steele warned her.

  The Commander sat quietly for a moment, legs crossed casually at the knee, hands resting in his lap, completely calm, his eyes shifting from Maria to Jack and back. It was the calm of someone who practiced it. Measured. Calculated.

  “We have your comm unit...” volunteered Jack. “Unfortunately, or should I say fortunately for you, it was rigged to destroy all of its data if it was discovered.” There was a brief change in facial expression and if you didn't know what to look for it would have gone unnoticed. Yeah, that got your attention didn't it... Steele tapped on his TESS, the door from the bridge hissing as it opened, Marine Warrant Officer Dale Alaroot stepping into the room accompanied by Corporal Dunnom. “Mr. Brighton,” Steele continued. “You have a limited opportunity here to explain yourself. I have a very short attention span for these types of things, and little love for all things spy...” Jack wondered if this was how the villain felt before 007 jumped up and killed everyone in the room to make his escape. Bond, James Bond. He shook it off, he wasn't the villain here... Shut Up, he told the little voice in his head.