Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “Who were they?”

  “NSA.”

  Maria's head bobbed, “You still with the Company?”

  “Yes. Director Miles thought if...”

  Maria's eyes lit up, “Stephen Miles? Director of South American Operations for the CIA?”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Is anybody there..? Hello? Can anybody hear me?”

  Steele sat bolt upright in the muted light of the infirmary, the room quiet, the purified, ionized oxygen blowing past him in a gentle breeze. Checking his arm, he was free of the IV, his treatment complete. He blinked, the odd visions in his brain fading slowly. Disturbing visions of a bleak future...

  “Hello? Please, can anyone hear me...?”

  Originally unsure if he's actually heard the voice as opposed to dreaming it, he slid off the bed, shuffling in his socks, following the crying to the MPOT in another area of the infirmary. “Ssshhhh,” he urged, “I'm here...” He turned off the stasis field so she could see him, reaching in and holding her hand. “You OK?”

  Mercedes looked up at him, “I'm sorry, I know it's stupid but I got scared. I hate this thing, I feel like I'm in a coffin...” Her eyes focused on his face. “You're him.”

  “I'm me,” he smiled. “Jack Steele. What's your name?”

  “Mercy... Mercedes Huang.”

  “Welcome aboard the Revenge, Mercedes. And thank you for what you did out there, I probably owe you my life.”

  “I think that's a two way street, Mr. Steele. Or should I call you Admiral?”

  “Jack is fine...”

  “Is there any way I can be in a regular bed? This thing gives me the creeps, it's freaking me out.”

  “I'm sure there was a medical reason they put you in the MPOT, but let's check and see if you're stable enough to move...”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Jack? Jack!”

  Steele moved away from Mercy's bed to where he could be seen from the infirmary doorway, “Back here!” He moved back to the bed where the nurse was finishing up a dressing change on Mercedes.

  “Is that better for you?”

  Mercedes eyes were wide, realizing she could understand the nurse. “Uh, huh... You don't speak my language...” she said slowly, “I know because I can hear the words. How come I understand you?”

  “We taped a temporary translator disc to you here,” replied the nurse, touching it behind Mercedes' ear. “Don't peel it off or it will stop working.”

  Lisa and Maria rounded the corner followed by Fritz. “Moved her to a full bed,” observed Lisa, “she must be doing better?”

  Steele shrugged, “She was getting a little claustrophobic.”

  “I don't blame her,” commented Maria. She touched Mercy's foot through the linens, “How're you doing?” She got a lazy nod and a thumbs up, the nurse still hovering over her.

  “Jack,” Lisa pulled him away from the bed, “I've been posting notes all night with Chase,” she indicated the laptop under her arm. “He thinks he knows where mom and dad are... but we need to hurry. the NSA has been hunting down the people who helped them. They know you're here and they want to get to them first. The realtor..?”

  “Yeah, the one on the card?”

  “Yeah, dead. The lawyer who did all the paperwork? Dead.”

  “They're obsessed, Jack,” called Mercedes weakly. “They want the comm unit. Or more...”

  Jack wheeled, stepping over to the bed, “The comm unit?”

  Mercedes looked up at him, “Worldwide communications that can reach into deep space in something the size of a laptop? Whoever has them will control all communications on the planet and beyond... If they can get your parents, they figure they can bargain for something bigger...”

  Steele took a controlling breath, “We'll see about that...”

  “Jack,” whispered Lisa. “The people that have been helping mom and dad are Knight's Templars.”

  Jack's eyes narrowed, “That would explain the trust level for the whole real estate and banking deal. The must have the money in a safe account somewhere off the grid.”

  “Just so you know,” added Maria, grabbing his arm, looking over at Mercy, “she had nothing to do with it. She's CIA, she was assigned to infiltrate the teams and investigate their abuses in an effort to stop them.”

  “She saved my life, so I owe her the same consideration, but don't kid yourself,” he growled, heading toward the front of the infirmary. “I'm betting they wanted the comm unit just as bad as the NSA.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Having watched Lisa launch in the Reaper from the control station in the cargo bay, he headed to the elevator past the Marines gearing up for the landing party. “Listen, Dale,” he said, pausing, “I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Lisa and Sergeant Mac; I'm tired of playing nice with these assholes. Don't start trouble, but if they ask for it, don't hold back. Fuck 'em up.”

  “Understood.” In heavy armor with his visor open, a light machine gun cradled in one arm, Dale Alaroot looked at Steele with a curious expression, “How come you're not flying, boss?”

  “Would if I could, Dale. But passing out in flight would probably be a bad thing.”

  “Yeah, probably,” agreed Alaroot. He set his armored hand on Steele's shoulder, the padded fingers resting heavily there, “It's OK, Admiral, we'll take care of it for you.” He looked over his shoulder, five more Marines in heavy armor standing behind him, “Right boys?”

  “AahWoo!”

  ■ ■ ■

  The Earth rushed toward the Revenge in its view-screen, filling it completely as it plunged downward. Steele dropped himself into an empty chair next to Maria sitting in the first officer's seat, flipping on the tactical screens, scrolling to the armaments and shields screens. “Where are we?”

  “Sixty seconds to Gulf entry point.” Brian shot him a sideways glance, “You sure you don't want the command chair, Jack?”

  Steele shook his head. “No, I'm good over here. Your ship, your bridge.” He activated TESS and pulled her holo-screen away, placing and sizing it where he could keep an eye on it. “TESS, connect to Lisa.”

  “Connected, Admiral.”

  Maria's fingers pipped across her keyboard, “All turrets manned and armed, shields at one-hundred-percent.” She glanced over at Jack, “How's the leg?”

  “It hurts, but it stopped throbbing like somebody was pounding on it with a hammer... So I'd call it an improvement.” He pushed on the TRS clamshelled around his thigh, hoping to change the tingling sensation to something less irritating. It didn't.

  With a momentary increase in felt-gravity, the view on the big screen swept from the sparkling water of the Gulf of Mexico to a level attitude with an actual horizon. “Twenty-five-thousand-feet,” called the helmsman, adjusting the throttle. “Fifteen minutes to the waypoint.”

  Fifteen minutes from the middle of the Gulf to the lower corner of Nevada would put them at Mach 4 or 5. Hopefully twenty-five-thousand feet would be sufficient to prevent breaking every window below them on the way. Steele activated his mic, “Lisa, you running ARC on or off?”

  “ARC is off, I'm running with shields. With you guys behind me, I figured what's the point?”

  Steele smirked,”Copy that.” He switched to a fleet command channel, “Revenge to Conquest Flight Control, status?”

  Pappy's face appeared in a corner of TESS' screen. “All set, Admiral. Four flights of two, dispersed and standing by. They'll hopscotch around if necessary to stay local to you...”

  “Thank you, .”

  “Interceptors leaving the ground here, and here...” announced the EWO, Electronic Warfare Officer, icons appearing over the inset map on the big screen.

  Steele paged to the map on his left command screen, highlighting the first icon with his finger, a wireframe diagram appearing of the aircraft in the flight, the summary blank and unnamed. He typed in; F-35 Lightning and the computer filled in the summary with knowledge taken from data sources all over the planet. The second fli
ght were F-16's and the computer, already having encountered them before, had a complete summary. As he watched, the data changed; speed, altitude, flight plan, armament and ordnance, flight identification, call tag and current radio frequency. Stunned by the sudden abundance of information he glanced up, “EWO, where is all this flight information coming from?”

  “I've intercepted data communications between a satellite, the ground and something called an AWACS...” she responded.

  “Can you disrupt or disable those communications?”

  “Aye sir. Would you like me to do that now?”

  “Not at this time, I'll let you know. Can you provide me a screen of the AWACS communications?”

  “Stand by, Admiral, creating a separate screen... under the communications tab... naming it... AWACS,” her fingers pipped on her keyboard. “Ready, sir. You'll have text and audio.”

  Steele pulled up the screen, “Excellent. Nice work.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Lisa pulled the throttle back, dropping the Reaper's nose, letting its momentum and gravity take them down from altitude. “Revenge still with us?”

  “Keeping pace, Skipper.” Draza Mac looked out over the desert and rugged ridges. “Some real wide open territory down there...”

  Lisa wrinkled her nose, “It can be pretty... in a rugged sort of way but if I had my druthers, it would be something with trees and water. Too many rattlesnakes and scorpions down there for my taste.”

  “You like it colder?”

  “Lisa adjusted the throttle, slowing their approach to the waypoint, “Only for short visits. I grew up in the snow, it kinda wore out its welcome. I prefer something a little more tropical, nowadays.”

  Draza Mac tapped his sensor screen, “I have four new bogies coming off the ground to the west of us.”

  “Crap that's Area 51. Where are the others?”

  “Seven-hundred miles behind us, I think we'll be long gone before they reach us. But these four are pretty close... Uh, oh. OK, I have four more. Different location a little south from the ones out of Area 51. This area's going to get hot pretty quick.”

  “There are military bases all around out here... Landing zone coming up...” announced Lisa, “Switching to ARC.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Having reached the coordinates, Brian leaned forward, concentrating on the big screen, “On the mark... Helm take us down.” A series of live-feed video squares appeared along the bottom of the big screen, showing different angles on the ground and horizon around the ship. “Landing party ready for deployment?”

  “Aye sir, and the Admiral is with them...”

  Brian leaned back, and shot a glance past Maria, “Geez, I didn't even see him leave.”

  “Reaper off the port bow, ARC system active,” called Maria. “We've got four, low and slow, coming from the Area 51 in the west. I'm reading two Blackhawks and two Apache gunships. Four F-16s coming in from the south. All gunners stay alert.”

  “Looks like we've got one vehicle on the ground... five people,” noted Brian. “Ready gear for severely uneven terrain...”

  “Aye, gear deploying, set for auto leveling. We won't set full weight, Commander; I'm adjusting anti-gravity for seventy-five percent.”

  Jack's voice cut in on the comm, “EWO, jam the signals on that AWACS...”

  “Aye, Admiral,” she replied, initiating the touch screen she had readied, “jamming active.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Standing there, stunned into inaction, Chase Holt was not aware his mouth was hanging open until the cloud of dust and grit that blew past them like hot wasteland entered his mouth, making him gag and turn away, the ground rumbling beneath their feet as the black ship settled to the desert floor less than a hundred feet away. The only person who seemed to be more excited than awed, was Dan Murphy, clapping his hands in approval, Dancing Rain hidden behind him.

  Karen hid from the sandstorm behind the back door of the pickup truck and Jesse ducked behind the driver's door while Chase spit sand and grit out of his mouth, his back to the ship and drifting microdust.

  Karen's wail hit Chase like an air raid siren and a quick glance told him she was truly terrified, peeking above the rear door glass, her eyes wide with terror. He spun on his heel, a squad of heavily armed mechanical men thundering down a short ramp into the sand, breaking left and right, their feet making a hollow metallic clom, clom clom as they ran, watching the desert in a semi-circle, scanning the horizon through their weapon sights. He was mesmerized by the fluidity of their motion and almost human gestures. He stepped around from in front of the driver's door to snatch her from where she stood, petrified like a statue, into his arms, holding her close, “It's alright...” although he wasn't so sure himself, his heart pounding in his ears with a deafening thrum. There was a lot of yelling and waving but he understood none of it, sounding metallic and distorted. Allie and DOG, Rain's Coyote/Wolf hybrid were out of the cab circling, barking at everything and nothing. There was a man standing at the top of the ramp yelling in what sounded like English, waving them in, but it was all such a blur when one of the machines jumped to its feet and tromped toward them, waving, pointing toward the ship.

  There was no sound when the mechanical unit crouched behind the one approaching lost his weapon, the mangled thing flipping out of his hand in slow motion, something heavy hitting the truck to Chase's right. He caught the deformation of the driver's door out of his peripheral vision as an explosive splash of red and metallic whang cut through the pickup truck, exiting out the other side. He didn't have to look to know Jesse was dead, cut in half by the round.

  A .50 caliber Barrett does that... Sound, smell, taste, heat, electricity, all came rushing in at once, military conditioning flooding forth, “SNIIIPERRR!” Snatching Karen around her waist he yanked her off her feet, sprinting for the ramp, looking over his shoulder at Dan and Rain. “Move! Move! Move! Allieeee...!”

  The ship's main guns pummeled the ridgeline nearly a mile away as an Apache passed over the ship into view, the chaingun on the chin tracking the commotion on the ground. The armored unit that had run towards Chase and Karen spun on it's heel, planted it's feet and unleashed a long burst of fire on it, the gun sounding like a cross between a Gatling and a laser, the rounds punching holes through the armored helicopter which immediately began to smoke heavily, turning away and heading for open desert, a swirling ribbon of black marking its retreat.

  Forming a shifting line of protective armor, the machines provided a wall to the ramp allowing Dan and Rain to run across the open toward the ship, each outside-end machine peeling off one-by-one as they moved back themselves.

  ■ ■ ■

  The waist door closed and sealed, the Revenge lifted off the floor of the desert, a low-grade hum filling the bay, the deck rumbling underfoot. Ignoring the chatter, the crying women and the circling pack of dogs running about, Steele grabbed his stunned friend by the elbow, “Chase... Chase! Where are they? Where are we going?”

  Chase blinked mechanically, pulling a paper map from his back pocket, pointing to his notes, “Just outside of Kingman, Arizona...”

  Jack stepped away from the low din and cupped his hand over his ear, reading the coordinates to Brian on the bridge.

  “Copy that, Jack. We'll be there in about ten minutes...”

  Rain was on her knees wailing, Dan trying to console her, “What about Jesse?” she cried, “We need to go back for Jesse.”

  Still in his armor, Dale Alaroot dropped to one knee with a muffled clank, machine gun cradled across his body in one arm, his visor up, “I'm sorry for your friend ma'am, there's nothing we can do for him...”

  She recoiled in fear, able to see the face peering out of the metal man, unable to understand him. Seeing this, Steele stepped back to the four humans huddled together, “He said he's sorry, but there's nothing we could do for him.”

  “What are they?” Rain whispered, her eyes shifting nervously from one Marine to the next.

  “
People in armored suits. They're Space Marines.” He looked over at Dale, “You guys OK to do this one more time?”

  Corporal Dunnom held up his mangled carbine, “I need another pea shooter...”

  Dale Alaroot smiled, “Sure. That went too quick, we were just getting warmed up...” His face shifted to serious, “Sorry about the kid though, I don't think he was the target...”

  After a few words with the Marines, Steele returned to the traumatized group. “Let's get you guys up to the infirmary and then...”

  “Jack,” urged Chase, “We need to go back, we left our packs and bags...”

  “And our laptops,” reminded Dan.

  “Yeah...” continued Chase. “We have nearly twenty grand in cash in our gear bags. It's all we have to survive...”

  Jack shook his head with an interrupting wave of his hand. “Guys, we're not going back. You're not going back...”

  “We have work to do... a mission...” interrupted Dan.

  “Getting killed isn't a great career choice, my Brother.” He shifted his eyes around the group, “I know this is a lot to absorb. I know it's all foreign and weird...” He pointed at Fritz, Allie and DOG sitting in a row, watching their humans converse, “Take their example; remain calm. Try to take it in stride.” He pulled TESS' holo-screen up to check the progress to the coordinates and closed it again, seeing the startled looks. “This will all make sense soon enough. I have to stay down here for the next jump off, but you need to go to the infirmary and get translator discs, it'll help you understand what's going on around here...”

  “How do we find it? Are we just going to wander around?”

  “Fritz will take you up there, just follow him...”

  Chase frowned, “Are you serious?”

  “Fritz, please take them up to the infirmary for translator discs,” waved Jack.

  The Shepard rose and strolled up to the group, rubbing Jack's leg and touching his hand with his nose as he passed. “Sure. OK, everybody follow me.” He walked past, heading to the elevator, slowing to look over his shoulder, “C'mon, follow me. Stay together.”