I nodded. “I know.” I said. “You don’t need to tell me twice.”
“Sometimes…twice is good!!!” Keith hollered up to me—giving me reason to laugh some more.
“Stand back you scoundrel! I’m going to be powering up shortly!”
Keith waved me off and then took off for hanger door.
I activated all systems and powered up for take-off.
The jet responded like a dream—even though a part of what I wanted with me would remain empty for the long road ahead.
I urged the plane forward as Keith raised the hanger doors up—giving me full access to a really gorgeous Vermont sunrise.
Splashes of orange, red, yellow, and purple raked themselves across the skies towards the horizon—as the sun rose up from behind the mountains in the distance.
I quickly activated the Starlight Vision Camera and the other digi-cams and snapped off a few pictures for posterity.
Then I tied myself into the comm system—after flipping down my visor-shield—and got a hold of Tower Two-Six.
“Hello! Anyone home? This is Peacemaker 1-0 on take off—heading for Runway Two. Vector is 265 on approach.”
There was a brief delay before I heard a male voice come over the open circuit.
“Triton 1-0, this is Tower Two-Six on approach. Vector low and slow until you reach Marker One. Then stand by for take off. Comm traffic is a bit heavy this morning as we speak. So give us a moment to clear you a launch window. Copy?”
I chuckled a little as I taxied my bird out of the hanger and started making my way towards the second runway at a slow, but nominal speed.
“Roger that. Just how many wide bodies am I looking at, Tower? Over.”
“Radar scans show about twenty-six heavies with six civilian models—varying between twenty and thirty thousand feet—within sixteen miles of this airfield.”
Mmm…I thought to myself. Sounds exciting!
It didn’t take me that long to taxi down the “expressway” and then turn onto Runway Two.
“We should have it cleared for you in a matter of moments. Standby.”
“Hanging ten, Tower Two-Six. I’ll be reaching Marker One in one minute.”
“Copy. Comm traffic is clearing. You should have a window in the next two minutes, ten seconds.”
“Thank you, Tower Two-Six.” I said—applying the air brakes and stopping my bird right where she was. The display showed that the front tire was just kissing the white line barely.
Aces! Ten points for a perfect line-up!
I gunned the engines just a little—before slowly adding more thrust power for take off.
I watched the indicators as I continued to add more engine power in incremental amounts until the engine display dinged green and I laid off the thrust lever.
“Tower Two-Six to Triton 1-0. The skies are clear and you’re ready for take off. Have a safe trip.”
“Thank you, Tower Two-Six. The same to you: Have a great day!”
Releasing the air brake, the Peacemaker practically skimmed down the runway at blazing speeds—eating up the distance to the last takeoff marker in just under thirty seconds.
And why not? I reflected—pulling back on the stick just a little—feeling my ship rise up from the ground and arc into the open skies ahead of us.
This is what the Peacemaker was designed to be.
“A machine without limits…” I said with glowing pride.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.
USS Goliath.
Lieutenant John Faraday knocked on Cabin 126 gently for the first ten seconds, and then—when he didn’t hear anything—he naturally started pounding insistently on the door.
“Mr. Jones? Are you awake, sir?”
“I am bloody now!” Came a shrill voice. “What in bleeding hell do you want?”
“The captain wants to see you in CIC. He says that something’s come up.”
“All right. I’ll be there in a second. Give me a minute to get dressed. I’ve only had about seven hours of sleep and no coffee to boot.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said—stepping back. “I know that sir. I‘ll make sure that one of the porters brings a fresh cup to the room when you get there.”
“Thank you. That’s mighty kind of you.”
“No problem, sir. All part of the service.” The lieutenant said automatically and left smartly.
***
Commander Tillman watched the displays change with each passing minute and asked for an update on the target in question.
“Cruising at Mach 1.7 at an altitude of 43,000 feet.”
“A leisurely stroll—wouldn’t you agree, Commander?” Conrad Jones ventured upon entering the semi-darkened CIC.
“It would seem that way,” the man said neutrally. “But one would think that after being attacked yesterday—she would have the common sense to stay put for the time being. Rumors have it that her passenger—the Prince of Hampton Courts—was seriously injured.”
Conrad joined the man and scrutinized the running display screens.
“It’s no rumor. I saw His Majesty laid up in bed with a sea of wires and tubes—just before I tried to have him killed.”
“May I ask why?”
“Easy: To blame Ms. Anderson for the fault and further implicate the US military for their diligent incompetence. No one would think twice to investigate—not with the hardened proof right before their eyes.”
“And our role in the affair?” Tillman asked quietly.
“A simple…friendly fire accident. If the Peacemaker was destroyed with both killed—? That’s what would’ve been in today’s papers and all over the internet. But unfortunately, the military’s better at covering things up nicely—than I thought—and there isn’t a nary mention of what happened yesterday—save to say that there was a horse-riding accident which injured the prince and a Major Gary Richards injured while out on a hunting expedition.”
“Hunting expedition?” The other man interjected curiously.
“Quail or pheasant.” Jones elaborated. “That was what was written in the NSA reports sent back to Virginia.”
“So somebody is deliberately falsifying information to cover things up rather nicely—instead of inflaming the situation?”
“Precisely, Commander Tillman.”
“Is that endangering your current plan—or do you have something else in mind?”
“A man of my glowing statute always can count on having an ace up his sleeve.”
“So why don’t you use it?”
“Oh, I will, Commander, sir. I’m just waiting for the most opportune time.”
Tillman continued to stare at the changing display screens and he snorted.
“Hopefully…it won’t be too long.” He complained softly.
“Not to worry, old chap.” Conrad offered with a reassuring smile. “Before you know it…? A war between our great nations will have emerged—throwing the world into complete chaos and disorder. And by the time things have a chance to settle down—? Both you and I will be filthy rich beyond our most wildest dreams.”
“I hope so. I’ve got a lot riding on this.” The other man said, before noticing a change in the displays.
“Interesting. She’s dropping down a bit. Following Interstate 87 again—just like the last time.”
“Where do you think she’s going?” Conrad wanted to know.
“New York by the looks of things. But I don’t know why she wants to go there. There’s nothing for her to do.”
Conrad studied the changing displays and nodded openly to himself.
“Except…” He murmured and then hissed: “Yes…of…course!”
“What?”
“The Essex.”
“Captain Mitchell’s ship?!” Tillman exclaimed in complete surprise. “Why would she go there?”
“I have no idea,” Conrad said. “But it’s playing right into my hand.” Turning around, he addressed one of the communication techs on duty.
“Get me Dagge
r Team Leader on the box. I want to talk to him immediately.”
The tech nodded. “Yes, sir.”
While Conrad waited for the call to be patched through, he turned back to Tillman and said, “Would it be too presumptuous to get your squadron to conduct weapons-drill exercises in the Hudson?”
“Whatever for?”
“So that I can expend the ace I’m holding up my sleeve.”
“N-now?” Tillman said—startled.
“Why not? It would provide the perfect cover for what’s going to happen next.”
Tillman nodded. “I’ll have to get in touch with the Thomas Paine’s commander and see about setting something up.”
“Do it.”
***
7:46 AM.
Fog enveloped most of Interstate 87—as I dropped down to about 5,000 feet from my original 43,000 feet.
Even from this height, I could easily see the landscape below and the tiny lights of houses mixed about on the sides and cars on the highway—zipping about like tiny fireflies.
“Not bad.” I complimented nicely, angling down just a few hundred feet more and reducing my speed to just above the Mach 1 threshold.
I didn’t need to scare people into thinking that there was an experimental jet flying above their heads. I reflected quietly. And even if they do—?
All they would see is a black spot against the blue skies, but nothing else.
Comm traffic had lightened up considerably since I left Vergennes, but every now and then my passive Lidar scans would show either an Airbus 380 or a Boeing 787 flying at the 30,000 foot altitude or slightly above.
Nothing to worry about. I thought as I continued south at Mach 1.01.
New York City was two hours out at the speed I was going—and I would get there in plenty of time to have a little heart to heart chat with Mariah Mitchell over what happened with her F-15Cs.
Accessing the comm-grid, I made an air-to-ground call to the emergency clinic and got one of the attending nurses—Rachel—on hand.
“Hello? Who is this?” She asked.
Flipping up the visor, I tied in the ship’s auto-pilot and then said, “It’s me: Kee!”
“Kee? Where are you calling from?”
Looking around, I said, “I’d rather not say—for security reasons and because I‘m not using any of my comm scramblers.”
“That’s all right. I don’t want to get you into trouble. Are you calling about your uncle?”
I shifted in my seat a little to get comfortable. “Yes. Is he awake now?”
“He was ten minutes ago. We just fed him.”
“So he’s passed out then?”
“He’s watching TV. Do you want me to give the phone to him?”
“Yes, if possible.”
“Hold on.” Rachel indicated and I heard some rustling around and the phone line being rearranged.
“Kee?” My uncle’s voice filtered through the open circuit.
I closed my eyes and breathed a big sigh of relief.
“How are you doing, Uncle Gary?”
“Stiff and sore to say the least. The pain-killers are doing a marvelous job at dampening the pain.”
“Glad to hear that, uncle.” I said with a happy grin on my face.
“Where are you?”
“Two hours from New York.” I told him.
“You…left?” My uncle’s incredulous voice resonated in my omni-directional pickup.
“Yes.”
“Why? I didn’t give you orders to do that.”
“I need information, Uncle Gary.” I responded with a hint of desperation in my voice. “I think that Mariah Mitchell might be the one to give it to me.”
“You mean the captain of the HMS Essex?”
“Yes.”
“I would strongly recommend caution, Kee. If you were get caught broadsides again—?”
“I know, uncle. But this time, I’ve come prepared. I had Keith unlock the primary weapon systems to the Triton-12 Peacemaker.”
“T-the primary—?” My uncle stammered in astonishment. “Kee, those weapon systems are powerful as they are unpredictable. You could very well—”
“I know, Uncle Gary.” I said—cutting him off. “But what choice do I have? If Conrad Jones has me painted for destruction, then I have to defend myself adequately.”
“You could very well start an international incident in the process—which would definitely put this country on a possible war footing or worse.”
“I doubt that very much, uncle. This jet won’t fire the main weapon systems unless I’m fired upon. It‘s one of the new safety protocols which the Defense Department designed into the Peacemaker.”
“I’m well aware of that, Kee. But I’m just trying to give you a heads up—just in case. There isn’t much that I can do from my bed. Not until I’m well enough to travel. And Shelly tells me that it could be a few days at most. So until then—? The Pentagon won’t have your back this time.”
“What about Major Kiang Lu Kim or Lieutenant Colonel Xavier Simms? Couldn‘t either vouch for me?”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“I don’t see why not. Let me call my office and I’ll see what I can do. But in the meantime—?”
“Yes, yes,” I countered hastily. “No funny stuff.”
“I was going to say, ‘be careful’, but that works too.”
I exhaled sharply and nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Gary. I really appreciate this.” I said with gratification.
“It’s my ass on the line—not to mention yours as well—if things get nuts in a hurry.”
“Uncle, I won’t be the one to fire first—if I can help it. But I will defend myself if need be.”
“I realize that. But this whole thing has me worried. Three attacks in the space of a few days is very unsettling.”
“You’re telling me?” I half-joked. “I’ve been playing Keep Away for the past couple of days before Doctor Evil came to pay us a visit. I still can‘t believe that he managed to get away clean—after the NSA agents got custody of him.”
“Jennifer Coolly tells me that the investigation is ongoing in that department. But so far, there’s a couple of cover stories which the Pentagon and the NSA is running—because of the sensitivity to the matter at hand. The public doesn‘t need to know what‘s really going on.”
“I don’t blame them,” I said, watching the fog skirt below me like a softly made snow bank. I switched to a rear view of my jet and watched as ‘wisp tails’ arose on both sides from the Peacemaker’s jet wash.
The phenomenon was a beautiful spectacle to behold and I snapped a couple of pictures for later—to show Bart when he awoke.“I would be rattled too—if someone within my business either went AWOL or turned traitor.”
My uncle chuckled a little, before there was a voice in the background—asking him if he needed anything.
“Okay, I have to go now, Kee. Natalia just dropped by—asking me if I want something to drink. I’ll talk to you later, all right?”
I nodded. “Okay, Uncle Gary. You take care of yourself. I’ll check in later when I get something substantial.”
“Love you.” My uncle said quickly, before he hung up.
“Love you too,” I said with a broad smile—and switched off the comm circuit.
Glancing out the right side window, I saw the world spread out as far as the eye could see—giving me a gorgeous view of the light blue skies and the persistent fog bank below.
I checked the displays and found nothing out of the ordinary.
“Today looks to be a nice day after all.” I said—checking the action below me. Everything passed for picture perfect serenity. Something one would find on a canvas painting.
“Let’s hope it stays that way.”
I pulled back on the stick and ripped skywards—trailing some of the dense fog behind me as I went.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.
USS Modesto. (1814)
Coupeville-class frigate.
Captain Ian Moon nodded as he listened to the pickup in his ear and said, “We’ll be ready. I’ll contact the Rutledge, the Lakewood, and the Snohomish of the change of plans.” He nodded again and said, “don’t worry, sir. No one here will question what we’ve agreed to do. They‘ll think it‘s just part of the show—which will start in a couple of hours.”
After hanging up, he turned to his first officer and said, “tell the harbor dock masters that we’ll be putting out into the middle of the Hudson and alert the traffic control operators that we’ll need the airspace above this part of the river to be cleared of all commercial air traffic. No exceptions.”
The man next to him nodded and started issuing the appropriate orders.
***
Somewhere over Kingston, New York.
8:15 AM.
With the sounds of Kim Wylde rocking out in the cockpit, I had bumped up my speed from Mach 1 to close to Mach 2—taking full advantage of my boisterous mood.
The Peacemaker danced along as well—taking some smartly executed barrel rolls, a few straight runs below the hard deck, and one full Burn at Mach 5.2—climbing to 60,000 feet in under 48 seconds.
I kicked the jet hard over and careened back down to Earth—before hitting the hard deck again (close to 20,000 feet) at Mach 5.93.
All the while avoiding all the commercial air traffic in the process.
I listened in on the traffic control circuit—to be sure—but as usual…nobody was saying anything.
Just the usual chatter.
No warnings, no alerts, no indications of aircraft of any kind in trouble.
Good. I thought.
I returned to base course twenty minutes later—keeping my speed at Mach 2.1.
It didn’t take me long to cover the distance from Glens Falls to Kingston—after I had crossed the Vermont border into lower state New York—taking the Interstate 87 corridor all the way down the Hudson River.
I checked the map grid and had the computer mark out the exit point into the rear of the Hudson—close to where the Essex had been moored.
From my Starlight Vision Camera shot, I could easily see the giant carrier where it was positioned and saw how empty the flight deck was.
The Peacemaker Page 18