Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  “Why would a zoomie trade a nice safe, clean cockpit for slogging around in the mud with us? It doesn't make a whole lot of sense.” They started walking again. “Is he crazy?”

  Dayle did something that combined a shrug and a nod. “Yeah. Maybe. A little...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Hitting the locker room after reviewing a few mission details with the pilots, Steele had changed from his uniform to his 2ndSkyn, combat pants and boots before heading out across the deck to the ramp of the shuttle, his hybrid 1911 strapped to his hip. He struggled with the armor, attempting to adjust it to sit on his shoulders comfortably.

  “Hold on, Skipper, let me help you with that.” Dayle Alaroot adjusted the buckle mechanisms to get the front and back of the torso to fit together properly then lifted the whole thing by the arm holes. “Relax...” he let it drop and it slid into place, fitting like a glove. “There you go.”

  “Man that's snug...”

  “It needs to be for the armor to work properly and so it doesn't shift around on you if you're running or something. You'll get used to it.” He handed Steele the thigh, knee and shin armor. “Don't forget these.”

  “Heaven forbid...” said Jack sarcastically.

  “Huh?”

  “Wouldn't think of going without them,” he clarified.

  “Ah, gotcha.”

  The leg armor covered the front and a little of the sides of the legs, strapped on and linked together. “Not much coverage on the backside,” noted Jack, “my ass feels a little unprotected...”

  “Yeah, well if someone shoots at you, you're not supposed to turn your back on them.”

  Jack gave the Marine the look. The same look your father would give you sitting at the dinner table when you said something inanely stupid. The stare of disbelief. “Yeah, Dayle,” he said slowly, “I think I knew that.” He could see the Marine fighting off a smirk. “Y'know, I gave you those pips, I can take them away...” Dayle's eyes shifted and the smirk was gone. But now it was Jack's turn to smirk as he lifted his helmet off the rack and headed for the shuttle's boarding ramp.

  “That's not fair, Skipper,” protested the Marine following him into the shuttle, his own helmet dangling in his left hand, “not fair...”

  The Freedom's sole Zulu taxied past, lining up on the runway, facing the stasis field and the open stern doors. Pausing momentarily the pilot looked out to his right at the shuttles and saluted before edging the throttle and passing out through the shimmering blue stasis field and the open stern doors into space. Four Cyclones of White Flight tasked as the escort flight for the shuttles, played follow the leader and filed sedately past the shuttles one by one, each pilot snapping a salute before heading out into space, the fighters passing through the stasis field with an audible hiss.

  “OK,” said Jack, dropping into a seat with the other Marines, “button us up and let's get going...”

  Maria looked over her shoulder from the pilot's seat, “Buttoning up...” The boarding ramp swung up and in, securing into the hull and sealing closed with a clank. “Pressurizing.” A cool wash of air circulated through the interior as she rotated the handle on the anti gravity, lifting the shuttle off the deck. Hand on the flight stick, she rotated the shuttle around, gliding it toward the center line of the runway, the shuttles of the Archer and Bowman following behind. Receiving clearance from the flight tower, she nudged the throttle forward. “Launching.” The blue veil flickered past, the shuttle greeted by the inky blackness and a spray of stars stretching out all around. The Marines craned from their seats, trying to see the green and blue orb out the port windows.

  Sergeant Draza Mac nudged Jack, “What's our ETA on the LZ, Skipper?”

  Jack checked his watch, “We should hit the landing zone in about forty-five minutes, give or take.”

  ■ ■ ■

  The Cyclones of White Flight, flying escort on the shuttles, were spread out on either side, the Zulu in the lead, its additional wing-mounted sensor pod scanning the planet ahead, looking for anything of interest.

  Punching into the atmosphere, the sphere of green and blue looming large in front of them, the entire flight buffeted about, slowing down to minimize the chance of producing a telltale comet trail. While the landing zone at the Air and Space Port had entered darkness, their transition coordinates over the equator were still bathed in daylight. Circling widely over the planet's equator on a downward spiral, the flight passed from daylight into darkness and back to daylight again as they approached their planned coordinates.

  Maria turned in her seat, “No ground to space sensor activity, Skipper...”

  “Good...”

  “But you might want to hear this,” she continued. “Zulu One is reporting something on scans in the ocean about five-hundred miles northeast of our transition coordinates...”

  “A surface ship?”

  “No, sir, that was my initial thought. He says it's larger than that. There's no ID ping of any kind and it doesn't fit any known profiles.”

  Jack unbuckled, got out of his seat and moved toward the doorway into the cockpit, suddenly piquing the interest of the Marines. “Moving or stationary?”

  “It doesn't appear to be moving. It takes us off our course, but it might be worth a look.”

  Jack pinched his lower lip in contemplation, “Well, it is what we're here for. Once we reach our transition coords, have Zulu One detour us to the new heading. Inform the others.”

  “Will do, Skipper.”

  Returning to his seat, Jack reflected on Maria's remarkable transformation to a stable, level-headed professional. He was going to have to remember to thank the Professor again for his efforts. Whatever he did. What did he do anyway?

  Draza Mac nudged Jack's elbow, “What did they pick up?”

  “Not sure, we're gonna detour to take a look.” He leaned back and re-belted his restraints, closing his eyes. A little nervous about what they were going to find, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

  ■ ■ ■

  The flights leveled off just above five-hundred feet, the deep, clear, azure blue ocean racing past below them, glittering like diamonds in the sun. Sitting next to a window, Dayle Alaroot's eyes were riveted to the water. “Man that looks inviting...” The rest of the Marines were in total agreement. Flying under some scattered clouds, the rays of light and shadow played on the surface of the water painting abstract shapes and deeper shades of blue.

  “Skipper...”

  “What's up?” Steele unbuckled and headed to the cockpit.

  “You're going to want to see this,” continued Maria, pulling back on the throttle. “I think we found the space station...”

  “Holy shit...” he breathed, “what the hell is happening out here?”

  Sticking out of the sparkling surface of the ocean on about a fifteen-degree angle, a tapered silver knurled spindle reached almost a thousand feet into the sky, an array of antennas and sensor probes pointing at the passing clouds. It appeared the space station had entered the ocean head-first, more or less intact. “Why didn't this thing burn up or at least break up on entry?” Maria wondered aloud.

  “Damn good question,” commented Jack. The floor tilted as Maria banked the shuttle, circling around the station's remains. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach, knowing there had been somewhere between two and three thousand lives on that structure. “Dammit, I wish we had more time to dedicate to this.” He rubbed his forehead. “Have Zulu One make a few recording and sensor passes. Tell them to upload everything they pick up directly to the Freedom. They'll have to catch up with us as soon as they're done. We'll take the lead, head us to our landing zone.”

  “Aye, sir.” From the copilot's seat, Myomerr sent the Zulu on the surveillance run while Maria called the other members of the flight into formation, steering the shuttle for the dark side of the planet. “LZ in twenty,” she announced, shoving the throttle forward.

  There had been no smoke or fire, no debris field, no slick
on the water of any kind; it seemed that the station had been there for a while. But how long? A couple weeks? A month? Longer? And how did it get down in one piece? Was it a controlled descent? It was unlikely that there was any such thing for a station. Hopefully they would find some answers at the Air and Space Port.

  At their speed, the transition from daylight to night happened in about ninety seconds, the shining water below them turning as black as India ink. Myomerr reached forward and activated the shuttle's twilight beacons, allowing the pilots to see in the dark without any light. Unlike the green hues of night vision, twilight actually projected light in a spectrum unseen by the naked eye, unless viewed through specially coated glass like the shuttle's canopy or the visor of a military type helmet. While it was more black and white than anything else, colors were discernible and clarity was exceptional. “We're about to go feet dry, Skipper,” said Maria. “Whoa, what the hell, did you see that?”

  Myomerr nodded, “Yeah, tidal wave?”

  Steele moved back to the cockpit. “What did you see?”

  “Looked like a harbor and a small city,” commented the Ketarian copilot, “totally flattened, some good sized surface vessels stranded about five miles inland...”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Fighters splitting off.”

  “Copy that,” replied Maria. “Altitude one hundred. Final approach to LZ Charlie... Anti-grav on, gear down.” While her copilot handled her commands, Maria zeroed the throttle, braking hard. “LZ coming up, touchdown in four, three, two, one... mark.” The shuttle slid along on the tall grass as the ramp unfolded and extended. “Shuttles touching down on LZs Alpha and Bravo, right on time.”

  Helmeted with his carbine tucked under his arm, Steele stuck his head into the cockpit, patting Maria on the shoulder. “Nice job. Now get outta here and don't come back till we call.”

  She turned in her seat to look at him but the gold helmet visor hid his eyes, she was looking at a distorted reflection of herself. “Be careful, Jack...”

  “Of course... you know me,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, I do. That's why I said it...”

  As soon as his boots hit turf, the ramp began folding in, the shuttle sealing itself, lifting, swinging away and moving off. Steele dropped to a knee, resting his carbine across his thigh and watched the shuttle bank, rolling away, disappearing in the darkness barely two-hundred feet off the ground. With his free hand he touched the grass and the soil around his feet; it was damp with evening dew and felt no different than he remembered it feeling at home. Pulling his thoughts together he realized what he was feeling... after seeing the water, that gorgeous crystal blue water, feeling real ground beneath his feet... He was a little homesick. He missed his beach, the blue sky, the sunshine...

  The Marines moving about around him, setting up their formation, snapped him back to what they were there for. Crouched in the tall grass about two clicks from the Air and Space Port, Steele's helmet-mounted twilight beacon allowed him to see in any direction he looked. “Comm check, report in...” Every member of his squad checked in, along with the leaders of Alpha and Bravo squads. He switched channels, “Charlie Leader to White Flight?”

  “White Flight. Charlie Leader, we're here if you need us.”

  “Copy.” He switched back to the platoon's channel. “OK, let's go. We've only got about six more hours of darkness.”

  Separated by several clicks, each of the three squads approached the Air and Space Port from a different direction to engage it from three different sides. “I don't get a good feeling about this...” commented Jack, “from here we should see some kind of lights, a glow... something... if it were still active, I mean.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Dayle, “unless they're going dark at night for a reason.”

  “Alpha Leader to Charlie Leader.”

  Steele paused and took a knee. “Charlie Leader, go ahead.”

  “We've come across a four person escape pod, Captain. I'm guessing it's from the station... It's open and empty.”

  “OK, so maybe there are some survivors... good to know.” That gave Steele a bit of hope. “Log the location, maybe we'll get a chance to come back and pull some data.”

  In a gentle sloping valley with low rolling hills on either side, Jack's Charlie Squad made their way through the tall grass and the scattered trees toward the bottom where it would ultimately flatten out at their destination. It was very similar to Earth in many ways despite the lack of a familiar moon. He glanced up reflexively and noticed the stars were also absent, the scattered clouds they'd encountered earlier coming together for what looked to be pretty solid cloud cover. He inhaled deeply and could smell it in the air, a scent that he hadn't encountered in what seemed a lifetime. It was something that separated itself from the smell of the grass, the trees and flowers in the valley. It almost made him giddy. “We're gonna get some rain...” He hadn't realized how much he missed something that seemed so inconsequential until now, but it triggered an avalanche of memories... Pleasant rain storms, notable lightning displays, ovations of thunder, the sweet smell and taste of the air right after the rain had stopped falling, when all you heard were the drops that still clung to the leaves and flowers dropping to the ground, one-by-one.

  It was just above a whisper, someone near him not using the comm. “How can you tell, Captain?”

  “I can smell it, I can taste it...”

  “Bravo Lead to Charlie...”

  “Charlie, go ahead,” responded Steele.

  “We've come across a small town over here, dwellings and such...”

  “Try not to wake anyone...”

  “Sorry, sir. I should rephrase that, we've come across a ghost town. There's not a soul here. Doors and windows are open, belongings left strewn about. Like they had to leave in a hurry and never came back... and it looks like they've been gone a while.”

  Farther down the rabbit hole we go, thought Jack. “OK, keep moving Bravo.”

  By the time they had gotten to a point where they could start making out shapes of the buildings and terminal it had started to drizzle, a light rain pattering down on them. For a facility that would normally be operational around the clock no matter what the weather, teeming with life even in the middle of the night, it looked lifeless, dark, abandoned. In Jack's mind, the only thing that could make it look more so, would be tumbleweeds rolling across the unused runways. Charlie Squad was approaching from the most wide-open side of the facility and Jack was glad for the rain. If there was anybody watching, the rain would make it more difficult to be detected in all that open space. There was a rumbling in the distance that rolled on for a few seconds.

  “What the hellion was that?” came a whisper.

  “That's thunder, Private. You've never heard thunder before?”

  “No, sir. What's it from?”

  “So you've never seen lightning then, either..?”

  “No, sir, I was born and raised on a space station. I've never spent much time on a planet. What's lightning?”

  Jack thought about the explanation his Aunt used to give him when he was a child, how the angels were bowling and whenever they got a strike, God would light fireworks to celebrate. He wasn't sure why that came to him and shook it off. “Uh, it's just something the weather does, Private. Don't worry about it. The thunder makes the noise and the lightning is the flashes of light you'll see.”

  The rain was steady by the time they'd reached the field and runways, almost a downpour, the rain coming down on an angle, lightning flickering through the clouds. Crouched in the tall grass and bushes that edged the field, they paused, checking in with the other squads. Everyone was in position and as wide as the facility was, the teams were all dealing with the same conditions. Steele looked over at the squad's sniper who was carefully scanning the rooftops, tower and buildings across their side of the facility. It was certain the same actions were being executed by the other squads. Conferring and agreeing on the situation, the squads moved in, Charlie Sq
uad carefully crossing the first runway.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FREEDOM, VELORIAN ORBIT: EMPTY NEST

  Commander Walt Edgars was sitting in Jack's office on the Freedom, listening and watching the video conference intently, Alité sitting nearby on the couch. “Where did you set up your HQ, Mr. Steele?” asked the Admiral.

  “We're in the control tower, Admiral. Its power systems are self-supported, unlike the rest of the port, and it's systems are autonomous. All we had to do was basically initiate the power and its computers came on-line... The tower is totally operational.”

  “But the rest of the port is still dark?”

  “Yes, sir. There are two neighboring towns and they're also without power so it seems to be a regional thing.”

  “What do the locals have to say..?”

  “We haven't come across a single living soul, Admiral. The entire area is completely deserted.”

  Walt leaned forward, pipe in hand. “Any chance that the station rotoring into the ocean had anything to do with it?”

  Jack accepted an e-Pad from off screen with a nod before turning back to the conference call. “We're about two-hundred miles inland, Walt, I hardly think so. At least not in a physical damage sort of way. Things here are pretty much just abandoned. Although we did see a harbor and town on the coast that was pretty much flattened...”

  The Admiral waved his hand, “Yes, your shuttle pilots briefed us on the damage they saw.”

  “Was there anything helpful on the data recordings from the Zulu?”

  Walt sucked on his pipe, pulling the flame from his lighter down into the tobacco. “It wasn't visible on what we could see of the structure, but the sensors picked up burn residues suspended in the water around the wreck, which would indicate some kind of attack or possibly a catastrophic event, maybe a fire or explosion.”

  “I don't understand how the thing could still be intact...”