Thomas looked over to his operator who held up another line, “Hold one Fred. Actually it might be hold two, I'm going to try and get permission.” He clicked the pause button and held out his hand for the second phone and put it to his ear. “Boss? Thank you for letting me interrupt. I would like to allow people I know in the U.S. Navy a chance to witness the Black Eagles flying past a set of F-18’s. Although I’d be surprised if they didn’t have at least one E2D Hawkeye up there for radar intercept.”
Thomas listened for a moment, “Ok. Which do you want to do, show we don’t have to be ugly, or show them the ridiculousness of competing?” Thomas listened again, “Well, they will want the technology no matter which way we do it. I’m sure France has already provided spec’s on your episode.” Thomas laughed, “Well, I found it funny as hell, so I’m personally glad you did it.”
“Yes, I would like to give them a chance myself. I guess they already know or surmise most of their capabilities. Mmmm, no, I don’t think we’ve ever used the flying interfaces yet with the Black Eagles. The Guards can certainly think fast enough to make it happen.” Thomas grunted, “Ok, so I have your permission, and you want me to tell John they should ‘have fun’? Ok, I can do that. Appreciate it ma’am, talk to you later.”
Captain Thomas canceled the line with Bethany Anne and tossed the phone to his Comms specialist and un-muted the other before putting it back to his ear, “Fred? Yeah, sorry about that. Ok, I’ve got two doors. What comes behind each door depends on how well you want to follow directions or we might get door number three, and that would really, really be bad for both of us.”
Thomas listened, “Well, you’re the top dog over there, so I’ll give you the scoop, and you tell me. I’ve got six of our men heading out, and they have been told to ‘have fun.' Now, I can get them to come up and ride with you guys and maybe do a couple of things, but they are not in good spirits after some of the bullshit being tossed our way. If you can have some level-headed fighter jocks up top, we have a chance to share some cool shit with permission. If not? Well, they aren’t real patient right now, and there really isn’t anything on an F-18 that is going to catch them or pull them down. So, level heads and everyone has a little fun together. Assholes and it is just a fly-by if we’re lucky. Sore losers and we have an international incident that won’t go over very well.”
Thomas listened for a few seconds, “Yes, I know ‘level-headed fighter jock’ is an oxymoron but there have to be some Goose’s up there, they can’t all be Mavericks. Mmmhmmm. Works for me. If it helps, tell the guys going topside to watch the news for ‘strange’ attacks in Iraq tomorrow morning. If this goes off well, I’ll share some personal footage we all want to see. Alright? That works, ‘bye Fred.”
Thomas handed the second phone to the Comms Specialist as he went to go find John.
—
The waves were about four-feet tall as the guys walked out to the deck. John turned around when he heard his name called out. He looked for a moment before realizing he heard footsteps on the port side of the boat. He waited a few seconds for Captain Thomas to appear out of the side passage and make his way up to the front where his team was planning on loading a boat to transfer over to the Ad Aeternitatem.
Captain Thomas held out his hand, “Good to see you off, John.” He nodded to the rest, “Guys!” They all had greeted the Captain before he turned back, “I’ve a request from a Navy buddy who commands the group tasked with shadowing us here. He would like a nice, polite fly-by to see what we are working with. Bethany Anne is ok with it since there isn’t a chance they can do shit before we are out of here.” He looked up to John, “What I would like is a way to make sure they understand they want us as friends, not enemies. I’ve warned Fred not to send up an ass, but you never know what’ll happen. Bethany Anne says to go all manual if you want.”
John considered the request, “I’m not accepting potshots at us, Bartholomew.”
Captain Thomas got the message. John didn’t use his first name unless it was personal, so this was something that he would do this for “Bartholomew” rather than “the Captain”, but there was only so much he was willing to take. “I’ve told him as much, John.” He held out his hand, “Give ‘em hell tonight.”
John reached out and shook the proffered hand, “Who?”
Captain Thomas looked over at the six men, “Everyone.” Then winked and started walking back towards his bridge. “Oh, Bethany Anne says to ‘have fun’!” He parted with a wave before disappearing around the side.
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Tabitha walked into the library and put a hand on the chair Michael would use for reading. She dragged her hand across slowly, feeling the texture with her fingers.
Stepping over to the books, she walked down running her hands across spines before turning back and walking to the chair across from Michael’s and sitting down.
She crossed her legs and took a moment to stare at the emptiness of the chair which mirrored the feeling in her heart. She had told Bethany Anne she couldn’t take being at the funeral for Michael, that she would have to believe he couldn’t come back if she attended.
Come back from a small nuclear explosion.
“You know, you were the father I never had.” She spoke into the quiet. “The man I finally looked up to, the one who allowed me to be me and the one who respected me for my talent, not my tits.”
She sniffled, just a little.
“So, now I sit in this big house, talking to myself with just a couple of mute memories to remind me of your awesomeness…”
She was interrupted by the doorbell and someone solidly knocking on the front door. She stood up, “We aren’t finished yet, you and I. I don’t believe you’re gone, I won’t.”
Tabitha wiped the tears out of her eye and straightened her posture as she walked down the stairs. She was the owner of this home now, and she would be damned if she would sully the house by acting immature. It was time to be the adult and climb above her fears.
She nodded to the mute memories as she stepped up to the door and opened it. Three men stood there, all wearing dark suits. “Yes?” She asked puzzled.
“I am Francisco,” he turned to point at the two men with him, “and these are my compatriots Santino and Mateo.” The first man, a dark Hispanic man with medium length black hair and brown eyes told her, “May we come in?”
“No, I wouldn’t like it, gentleman. It won’t go well.” Tabitha replied, “I’m in no mood to be with company.”
Francisco turned his head, “Well, our benefactors are expecting to be able to enter the house this evening, so you had better get ‘in the mood’ very quickly.” Francisco’s smile turned dark, his eyes losing their charming effect as he placed his foot to stop her from shutting the door.
Tabitha shook her head, “Seriously? You three … You know what?” Her voice hardened, her eyes turning darker, her anger due to her pain rising to the surface, “Why don’t you come in.” She opened the door the whole way as she turned to stride determinedly inside, leaving the three men on the porch.
Francisco turned to Santino and then looked at Mateo who shrugged, “Women?”
The three men walked into the house slowly as Mateo turned to close the door behind them. While there wasn’t another house even remotely close by, her screaming might carry a distance.
The door clicked, and Mateo turned back around, a darker look on his own face.
The three men found Tabitha in the middle of a large circular room with two sets of stairs going up the sides. “Just up there,” She pointed above them, “is the library I’m about to go back into. Up here behind me,” their faces rotated to see her gesturing behind her to a railing, “Was where Bethany Anne had her last kiss with Michael in this house. Now, Forsaken are listening to rumors of Michael being gone, and they want something from his house? HIS HOUSE!” She screamed at the three men, momentarily startled by her intense anger.
Tabitha’s voice went deadly quiet. �
��She might be letting me weep in peace, but there is something they should have thought about. Which is that my Queen won’t leave her people undefended. So, let me introduce you to my two mute memories of Michael.”
She held out her left hand in a wave like she was about to show off a beautiful car, “His name is Hirotoshi.” A previously unseen man in all black separated from the wall. “And his name,” She moved her right arm as if introducing another beautiful car, “is Ryu.” A second man, also in black with a shrouded head, appeared against the wall to the surprise of the three invaders. They noticed the gleaming and very deadly looking katanas held in black-clad hands.
She continued talking, “They have been here, suffering with me as I try to pull myself together. You are the third set of idiots who have come through the door. Well, I’ve decided that it is impossible to teach the Forsaken anything with patience. These two are from the Queen’s Elite. They are mute not because they can’t speak, but because they are honoring me. They also honor me by drinking blood from a mug in respect.”
Tabitha’s eyes drew dark, “Now, they will honor me by drinking from your necks!”
Francisco started out slightly concerned, but he latched on her last comment and smiled as he looked at his two guys, “Necks?” He turned his head back towards her, “Like Vampires? Senorita, it is light outside. No vampires are going to…” He pulled his gun as he spoke but the vampire on his right moved so fast Francisco barely registered movement before his wrist screamed in pain. His eyes watched in disbelief as his hand separated from his arm, still gripping the gun, as it flew to the floor five feet away, blood spurting from his wrist onto the marble tile.
“Unfortunate for you,” the first man spoke to Francisco in highly-accented English. The trio turned to see his eyes had turned red, and fangs were now growing out of his mouth, “We only need two!”
Francisco felt the sword pierce his neck, then flick to the side.
As Francisco’s body slumped to the ground, the two grown men screamed in horror as the vampires came towards them. Tabitha stood and watched what she had wrought, and she felt peace in her soul.
Unfortunately for the two men, the house was too far away from other homes for anyone to hear them screaming.
CHAPTER THREE
South Atlantic Fifty miles North by North East from QBS Polarus
Six F-18’s had taken a position at thirty thousand feet cruising at 300 kts. That was a good speed for the F-18’s and about 40 kts faster than the typical cruising speed for the E2D Hawkeye.
The planes flew in a V-formation with one plane hanging back slightly in the middle. The Hawkeye was stationed five hundred meters to the left of the group.
Their hope was to get the planes, or Pods as they called them, to slow down enough so that the advanced radar and other sensing equipment could get a fix on the Pods and allow the military to tweak their systems. This might let them understand how to track those with this new coating. When you are the world’s most advanced superpower, it is a kick in the sensitive parts to find out someone is significantly more advanced than you.
America is not fond of playing catch-up.
In the middle of the three radar desks on the Hawkeye, radar operator Robert “Styles” Griffin looked at his readings, cleared his eyes and looked again, “Ah Captain?”
“Go.” a voice returned over his headphones.
“Sir, we have approximately thirty aircraft rapidly approaching our vector.”
“Say again, was that three-zero?” his captain's voice came back.
“Yes sir, wait one. Now I have six zero approaching and will arrive in …HOLY SHIT!”
“Styles! Can it back there, keep it professional.”
“Ah sir, you will see them coming up very, very quickly.” Styles barely managed to calm his voice.
“What?” There was a break, then, “Never mind. Styles, didn’t you say sixty?”
“Yes, sir! Radar is showing sixty as in six zero contacts.”
“Ok, because visual is six.” The Captain called back. “From a few hundred meters away.”
“Im-fucking-possible.” Styles murmured to himself. “Sir, can you confirm six again?”
“Yes.” Came back quickly.
“Sir, they are spoofing their signature, and they are all over the place. Can you tell me where they are?”
“Wait one for Mark-One Eyeball. Yes, they are sitting about ten feet above our six birds flying upside down, taking pictures with cellphones. Although one idiot is using a flash.”
“Sir, I have nothing, I repeat, nothing is showing near our birds.” Styles finally managed to get out.
An unrecognized voice interrupted their conversation, “This is Black Eagle One. We will be leaving in a few seconds. I will count down from ten. When I do, we will take off in this same direction, although we will adjust a few hundred feet up so our disturbance doesn’t affect your flying. I propose someone takes off when I start counting, the rest is up to you guys. We will not be attaining top speed. Have a nice day.”
“Ten,” said the deeper voice again. Styles noticed the first jet fire its afterburners. “Nine…” A second pulled out. The voice got down to one when the last plane fired its afterburners and started rapidly leaving the E2D behind.
Suddenly, six blips appeared where their own planes had been seconds before. They jumped up five hundred feet in altitude before…
They simply disappeared within two seconds from his screen.
“Holy…Fuck…” Styles let out, not realizing he still had an active mic.
His Captain came over the radio, “For once, Styles, I concur.”
—
“Well, that was a fun start to our little Bitch’s night out. Where’s our first stop, John?” Eric called over the line.
All of the men were playing with the communications capabilities of their helmets. It gave them complete spatial awareness in a globe around their craft, and also pointed out items up in the upper atmosphere or anywhere they chose to look.
“We are going to Iraq. ISIS has been killing all sorts of people, but specifically, Christians they catch, then crucify them and put the videos on the Internet. They have multiple oil refineries running for income.”
“Bombing run?” asked Peter.
“Negative, there are a fair number of innocents being used to run the largest plant,” John answered.
“So, we’re going to save the innocents, and then?” asked Akio.
“Send a Bitch’s welcome down.”
“Oh, then the bombing run,” commented Peter.
“Make sure we are well clear before we do that, John,” mentioned Scott, “I was talking with Marcus, and the shockwaves coming off of one of the Mother-Puckers plus the probable concussive force is going to be pretty substantial.”
“Come on, don’t you want to see what these things can handle, Scott?” John asked.
“Sure, you go first, I’ll be the Army Brass sitting in the concrete bunker from miles away taking camera shots.”
Everyone chuckled at Scott’s comment.
The team went high up above the atmosphere and darted over to Iraq before heading down in the twilight. The night had just gotten started when all six craft slowed to a stop a mile above the large oil refinery.
“Are they supposed to have that many fires burning?” Scott asked.
“Yes, they are burning off gasses that are produced during the processing of the oil. They must not have enough to capture and re-use in the process, or they are just inefficient.” John replied.
“Big fucking place,” Scott commented.
“Isolated, too,” Darryl threw in.
Looking down, there was a small road which led to the massive refinery, but otherwise, there were precious few buildings outside of the refinery and the pipes leading to it and away.
“I see two major security bunkers along that road.” John answered, “You guys want to play, or just nuke them?”
“I’ll do the first one.”
Akio said, “If we drop something, then maybe they get the word out quicker, and we lose surprise.”
“I’ll take the second one,” Peter mentioned.
“Pete?” John said.
“Yup?”
“Why don’t you free your other self tonight? What they don’t understand, will only make them more scared.” John grinned darkly.
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