Tales of the Federation Reborn 1

by Chris Hechtl

  Dom looked sharply at the implant, then to the boys. Each Hawk brother showed him their implants, and then Mike did as well.

  “I'm also a pilot,” Jason said. They turned to look at him in surprise. “I'm not fully trained like these three are, obviously, but I can fly when I need to do so. It's part of my intelligence training,” he admitted.

  “A spook,” Dom muttered.

  “You've been dealing with one all along—Mister Briggs,” Jason said.

  Dom grimaced but then nodded. He ran a hand through his silver hair then pulled his trademark red cap out of a pocket and put it on. “I know.”

  Jason blinked. “You know? He told you?”

  “Arkangel. I think he wanted me to trust him. He needed me to do so. I think he … well, I can't say this for certain, but I think the role he was in was eating at him a bit. I still don't trust him,” Dom growled as the group stared at him.

  “How did you know?” Jo asked. “You never told me.”

  “Stuff he said like the Federation was coming, the absolute faith he had, the helping of others. What clinched it was the prosthetics the man has,” Dom said. He shook his head. “I saw some of the stuff the Horathians had. He's got a fully-functional arm. He hides it, but I know it's not an organic limb. The same for the leg. I'm betting the eye is too.”

  “The eye patch. That's how he saw us at the cabin,” Jo said, snapping her fingers. “How he saw Ed at the clearing,” she murmured.

  “Right,” Dom said. “So,” he turned to Jason. “You'll excuse me when I say I don't trust spooks, especially him with his track record,” he growled.

  “I don't think anyone does,” Jason said slowly.

  “Good, let's keep it that way.”

  “We need the support, Dom,” Jo stated, crossing her arms. “At the least, access to accurate intelligence and the fuel and ammo,” she said.

  “And we don't turn over military gear to just anyone,” Jason said, starting to sound astringent himself.

  “We need to work with them, not against them. We definitely don't want to come across them, Dom, trust me. You don't want to run a mission only to find out it is a friendly unit you are firing on,” Jo insisted. She knew she hadn't quite convinced Dom but he was on the fence.

  Dom stubbornly held out and asked them to wait on his decision. They reluctantly agreed. “I forgot, you do take leaps of faith, but when it comes to big decisions, you don't go in half cocked if you can help it. Something you taught us,” String observed with a nod. He glanced at the other marines.

  “We can get medical gear too? Support?” Jo asked quietly.

  “Of course,” Sinjin said, sounding concerned.

  “Good,” Jo said, sending an accusing look Dom's way. He frowned but then nodded. They had one medic who helped them when she was available, Doctor Dee. She was a vet and could handle Neos when push came to shove. But she didn't like stitching up humans that much; it was well outside her comfort zone.

  Fortunately, they hadn't sent many her way. And they did have a few nurses and EMTs in the unit who could handle the basic day-to-day injuries the unit had sustained.

  “Where are you located?” Mike asked, looking around.

  Dom seemed to close up then. “I know that wolf lady said she knew, but I'd rather not take you back there until I'm comfortable,” he admitted.

  “It has to be sometime, Dom,” String said softly.

  “We can get you medical care too,” Jo said, poking him. Dom frowned. “You know your blood pressure isn't what it should be. And Doc said she didn't like the sound of your heart,” she growled.

  “How about we arrange a navy medic to come around and do a checkup,” Jason offered. “Along with some supplies? We can take small steps like that,” he said.

  Jo nodded. “I agree. He'll agree when he gets his head out of his ass. He's too proud to agree right away,” she said, jerking a thumb towards her uncle.

  “Young lady, you might be an adult, but you aren't that big that I can't put you over my knee,” Dom growled. Jo snorted.

  String ducked his head, chuckling. The chuckle got Sinjin and Mike chuckling as well.

  “You and what army?” Jo demanded, free hand on her hip.

  “I get no respect,” Dom said, looking away.

  “Not when you're being pig headed and mulish,” Jo growled.

  “Okay, okay,” Dom sighed. “We'll fly you in when we're sure the coast is clear. Don't go showing up on your own; humans get shot on sight around the base,” he warned.

  “Okay,” Jason said, dampening his enthusiasm with difficulty. He hadn't been certain about the assignment initially, but now it was warming to him.

  >}@^@{<

  “Dom, about that incident when you first tried to attack the spaceport …,” Jason said, coming into the command room.

  Dom grunted. He wanted to do his best to forget about the embarrassment. “It's over,” he growled.

  “It might be, but we need to learn something from it,” Jason insisted, setting a tablet down on the counter. “Or we'll repeat the same mistakes,” he warned.

  “Which we did learn. I've instituted security measures on the bird,” Dom said.

  Jason nodded. “I know. What I'm talking about is more intelligence driven than that. Think about it,” he said, taking a seat next to Dom and Caitlin. “Think it through as an investigator,” he said, shooting Caitlin a look. “Think of how they were able to fly the bird in the first place,” he said, pointing a stylus to the Wolf. “I mean, we're talking two shooters with enough skills to be able to comfortably take the controls and take off. And … when she proved unsuitable for flight, they had the presence of mind to land her, in the dark, on a gravel stretch of road.”

  Caitlin sucked in a breath. She darted a concerned look to Dom. “You know, we never really considered that.”

  “It's part of my job,” Jason said, getting up to get a cup of coffee before he came back. He spun the chair around so he could straddle it and then sat. He rested his arms over the back rest. “These were two shooters, people who shouldn't have any training whatsoever in flying an aircraft as complex as that,” he said, pointing to the Wolf again. “I know you didn't let me up without the right briefing. Yet, they did it.”

  Dom frowned thoughtfully. “I'm following you, I'm just not sure I like where it leads,” he said cautiously.

  “Well, I see several scenarios here. One, they were washouts. But they washed out of what? They still had the confidence to try to take the bird up, right? So how? Who trained them?”

  “And they had to have access to the 222 or similar craft to be so familiar,” Caitlin said slowly, parsing out where the spook was leading.

  “That was my other thought. Another one, did they wash out? Or did they have too many pilots like we've got and revert them to ground status? Did their flight status get revoked? Or were they reserve pilots who took on any captured aircraft?” Jason said, laying out his thinking.

  “A lot of good questions there,” Dom said. He picked up his own cup of coffee and took a sip. “We can't do anything about finding the answers though.”

  “No, we can't. But I now know to ask them. And to let people know that at least some of their people are trained on the 222 and other aircraft similar to type,” Jason said triumphantly. He took a sip of coffee. “We need to warn them to expect the craft in other theaters.”

  Caitlin nodded. “It's certainly something to consider. We didn't expect the ground defenses or the SAMS,” she said.

  Dom nodded. “They could have flown one in a simulator. Get enough time in a sim and you think you can fly one, no problem,” Dom said cautiously.

  Jason frowned and then nodded. “A distinct possibility. They could have been trained as we've been doing or training on their own initiative. I'm afraid we may never know all the answers.”

  “But someone needs to be asking the questions,” Caitlin said. She shook her head. “As an investigator I like nice neat endings. As a realist I kno
w it's never that simple. There are always loose threads, things that don't quite fit together. The other question now is, do we spend a lot of time on this or do we, we meaning you,” she indicated the spook with a wave of her hand, “move on when it dead ends to other questions?”

  Jason grimaced then took a sip of coffee. “I'll ask what I can, get what answers I can, then toss it up the chain of command and then move on. Someone might kick it back asking for more information, but I don't think the answers are here.”

  “No, I think I agree with that,” Caitlin murmured. “The answers are closer to Horath or in capturing enough people and getting them to cough up the answers you want.”

  “If you can believe them. They'll say anything to save their own hides,” Dom growled.

  Jason nodded, sobered.

  >}@^@{<

  Dom wasn't going to let them fly the bird off into the sunset—not without checking each and not without one of his people in the back seat. He tested each, first in the VR simulator Lieutenant Locke provided, then in the cockpit once he'd cleared them to enter the lair and introduced them to the militia group.

  The group of pilots tended to fight over who got to fly the missions. Jason even got into the act, if only to prove he could fly like the rest of them. Dom's tests told him who was good for what. Mike was okay, but he still had a mechanical air about him when he took the controls. Sinjin and String were the most natural, but that was to be expected since both boys had been flying for years.

  He found that String was very good at the pop-up maneuver Jo had pulled on them during their initial meeting with The Lady. His ability to get in low, hide in a valley or canyon within centimeters of the ground, then pop-up and take on forces came in handy during their first week of combat missions. Two squads of heavily armed Horathians fell to The Lady's guns.

  On Sinjin's mission, he and Jo sitting in the back seat ran into a quartet of enemy drones. Two attempted to crash into them to knock them out of the sky while the other stood off and shot at them with its guns and missiles. The fourth craft loitered in the area at extreme range, keeping an overall eye on the battle. One by one Sinjin outmaneuvered the unmanned craft and shot them down. The last fled into the hills when it became obvious that there was no winning the engagement.

  Initially the Wolf militia group received limited support from the marines, most of that in fuel, tech help, and minor spare parts. It was enough to get Red Wolf and Scorpion torn down, however, and for the group to start a modest stockpile of parts. Dom started Corgi and others on the long drawn-out process of rebuilding the two aircraft in their free time in-between maintenance on The Lady and work on building missiles, sunbursts, and other replacement munitions.

  Once they had enough fuel and parts and Dom was comfortable with the pilots and support, The Lady was tapped to perform convoy escorts and was tapped as a first responder after several attacks. Dom still insisted that the bird only fly at night for obvious reasons. Reluctantly the lieutenant and major agreed with him. It was better to not give someone on the ground a target to fire on them and take out their one gunship asset.

  Slowly, though the prior limits on fuel and ammunition no longer applied, some personnel went back to the spaceport to rebuild their old lives, others tried but then came back, and there was nothing left except too many painful memories.

  Dom still conserved ammunition and fuel however, setting up caches wherever they could. He was a miser with the bird and its supports. A favored trick he, Caitlin, and String employed was to make a firing pass, then to pull out as if they were out of ammo or fuel. That allowed the enemy to uncover while they circled around and watched from on high with their long-range sensors and their engines on whisper mode. Once the enemy started to move again, they came back in and tore them a new one all over again.

  >}@^@{<

  Several months after things started to turn around for the planet and the marines, String and Dom brought The Lady into the marine base by night. Dom hadn't been happy about it, but String had reassured him that nothing was going to happen. They came in to the pad, orienting on it with the aircraft's night vision instead of spot lights that would have illuminated the craft and landing area. Such things were frowned upon when they wanted to be stealthy and when they were afraid a sniper might ruin their entire evening.

  The gear came down as the aircraft did a flare out. The engines on the sponsons oriented, the panels fluttering as String directed thrust to orient her just so in anticipation of a perfect touchdown. He wasn't disappointed.

  String noted the buzz of activity and sense of anticipation on the base, but he was primarily focused on getting the bird on the ground without a bump in the head wind he had to contend with. He didn't need to listen to Dom gripe about coming down too hard.

  “Smooth as a baby's rear-end,” he muttered.

  “Say's you,” Dom accused. “But I suppose you did fine. This time,” he growled. String shook his head as he shut the bird down. Outside her engines spooled down.

  “A balloon is definitely going up,” String observed as they landed The Lady on a landing pad. Security was already around the bird. He nodded as he took his helmet and gloves off and left them inside on the seat. He left the cockpit hatch open in case of emergency.

  “I'll stay with The Lady and run some preventive maintenance,” Dom said, dogging his hatch and then popping the left engine panel and using the rod inside to prop it open so he could get to work. He pulled out a pen light out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth so he'd have his hands free to work.

  Lieutenant Locke met them at the pad. Jason frowned when he saw Dom's preoccupation. “A problem? Now? Is she …”

  “Go on, shoo,” Dom urged, waving a hand, not bothering to look at them. “I'll be fine here,” he growled.

  “The bird is fine. He's touchy about the left engine ever since their first mission. I think even after he did the last teardown he's still not happy. This proves it,” he said, eying Dom. Dom had lost some weight, but he was still a bit portly. “Besides, Dom doesn't like large strange groups and is still a bit paranoid,” String said as they got to the edge of the stairs. “A lot of unfamiliar faces and protocol,” he explained as he climbed down the stairs. Jason nodded in reply.

  String frowned when a group of marines pushing carts ladened with weapons passed them, headed to the bird. “I take it we've got a mission?”

  “The major is looking forward to filling you in,” Jason said.

  String nodded. He saw the black cat near the armory, frowned, but then Jason tapped him to keep moving so he obediently followed.

  >}@^@{<

  “This is it. The Baroness has finally slipped up. We've gotten word that she's stopped moving her HQ and has hunkered down for the winter. She is in an abandoned lead-laced gold mine four hundred kilometers away in the mountains northeast of here,” Moira stated to the assembled officers and noncoms.

  Jethro instantly realized the lead lining would block their sensors. It was a perfect place to hide. Also a bit remote, so hard to get in and out of. But it was situated so that it had a commanding view of the surrounding terrain. Anything approaching up the mountains or through the passes would be noted well in advance. And no doubt the mine had side entrances and exits. Fighting them in the tunnels would be hell.

  “Once word gets back to her that we know where she is, she'll undoubtedly move and quickly. We want her; we have surveillance over the area now, both in orbit and with long-range drones. They are definitely there,” Moira said as Captain Lyon opened his mouth to object. She put a holo image up of the mine and people near it. She highlighted outposts and fire teams. He looked and slowly whistled.

  “Interlocking fields of fire … only the one approach. They've got that valley covered. Getting in will be tough, ma'am.”

  “We could assault from above,” Lieutenant Shoo Mi Sung said softly.

  “We are. And we're going to do an orbital hit to soften them up before our people get in. That should take out
their eyes and ears. From there we're going to borrow a militia asset,” she nodded to Lieutenant Locke and Lieutenant Hawk, “and they will perform a dive to pick off any leftovers. From there the shuttles will do a parachute drop over the area. But only if the LZ is properly prepared. I'm not going to have my people cut down in the air, totally helpless.”

  “Yes, ma'am. We'll get it done,” String said.

  “See that you do.”

  “Ma'am? What about a back door?” Ensign McAdams asked. Lieutenant Chiang nodded in agreement to the question.

  “There are possibly many. So, the navy has graciously agreed to provide over-watch of the area before, during, and after we go in.”

  “It's the least they can do since they can't give us assault shuttles or attack craft,” Ensign McAdams growled.

  “As you were,” Moira said coldly as the others nodded or grunted in agreement. “FYI, the squadrons here on the ground will be flying air support for us.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes. Count your blessings and move on.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Good. Now let's get down to the nuts and bolts of the operation. We can't be obvious about pulling people and staging them or they'll figure it out or get mischievous anywhere we uncover. So, we've got to borrow troops from various places. And we're going to turn over some of their duties over to the militia early.”

  “That will keep them out of this right, ma'am?” Jethro asked, raising a hand slightly.

  “Yes. That's the idea. Now …”

  >}@^@{<

  Dom and String orbited in a figure eight, waiting patiently for the first stage to commence. “This is it. If this goes down half as well as they are expecting, we'll gut the Horathians,” String said, voice even and not the least bit tinged with excitement.

  “It hasn't happened yet,” Dom said, dampening his own enthusiasm with difficulty.

  “Don't look at the orbital strikes. You'll lose your night vision if you don't have your visor down,” String warned.