Hawk Genesis: War (Flight of the Hawk)

by Robert Little

  John looked at Jessica, and tried to speak, but nothing came out. He’d hidden inside a military shell for five years, done what he thought had to be done, and been successful, but now he just wanted to lay next to his wife. Maybe drink a little coffee in the morning, but not early.

  Karl returned and said, “Mrs. Chamberlin, thank you for what you said to Corporal Yanez. You should know that he is alone. His family…he has parents, a brother and two sisters, but none of them have talked to him since he enlisted.” Jessica asked, “Has he married since then?” Karl shook his head, “No maam, he served in the Marines and was honorably discharged, but even though he has a Spanish surname, and speaks it fluently, he has an accent, and, well, it makes it hard for him, even here on a frontier world.” Jessica promptly asked, “Tell me about his education and skills.” John’s heart was near to bursting emotions. Karl said, “He has two years experience in aquaculture, but there are few opportunities to put that to use here, especially with so many returning veterans. He’s living with a couple of other veterans in a hostel, and trying to get some schooling.”

  John looked at Karl and said, “You’ve been on Maya just about exactly the same length of time I have, which is to say, a few hours, you’ve never been here before, so how did you find him and learn all this?” Karl said, “I have a great many contacts with men and women I’ve served with. Noncoms, at least in the Marines, have known for over a year that when the war ended hundreds of thousands of sailors, Marines and soldiers were going to get dumped back into the civilian economy, so we’ve been quietly working behind the scenes to try to do what we could to help each other. On most federal worlds, the war has spurred growth, so we think that most veterans will find employment, although it might take six months or a year. That isn’t the case in the rebel worlds, so we’ve tried to help the fairly large number of volunteers like Corporal Yanez emigrate to Maya, Elyse and a few others. Meanwhile, none of us made enough to save any kind of significant money, and the government has taken the position that military service is a responsibility and duty, and has done almost nothing to help returning veterans. Sir, since you’ve brought up the subject, how long could you survive without a job?”

  John looked at Jessica and raised his eyebrows. She said, “John is very good with money, and I’ve been poor since the outset of the war when our parents died, leaving us basically on the street, so I’ve known how to, as John the historian puts it, “pinch a penny”. We could possibly survive six months without any money coming in, but not much longer. How about you?” Karl said, “Not that long. Um, sir, what does that expression mean?” Jessica giggled and looked expectantly at her husband. John said, “The penny was one one hundredth of a dollar, and was a copper coin that was minted in the former United States of America from the late eighteenth century up midway through the twenty-first, long after it cost more to make than it was worth. The expression meant that one knew how to stretch one’s funds to get the maximum value out of them.” Karl said, “Ah, as in penurius.” Jessica smiled fondly at Karl and asked, “So, Master Sergeant Mischkovic, are you staying in?” He grinned, “That seems to be a popular question. Um, it depends.” Jessica asked, “Are you saying what I think you are hinting at?” He nodded, “Yes, possibly.” John looked between the two and asked, “Huh?” Jessica giggled, “You need to practice looking confused honey, you don’t do it at all well. What your superior just told you is that Rachel might be interested in a commitment if he stops traipsing around from one near-death assignment to the next.”

  John nodded sagely, “Yes, well, I find that interesting and all, but as you both know, I’ve promised to maintain a certain distance from the Karl-Rachel negotiations.” Jessica giggled, “Goodness, it sounded as if my husband just said that he hadn’t been interfering on a daily basis.” Karl said, “I heard exactly the same thing Mrs. Chamberlin.”

  At that precise moment Rachel walked up, holding two plates of food. She silently handed one to Karl who politely thanked her. The three had gone rather suddenly quiet, and since Rachel was bright, and knew John, she looked suspiciously at him, causing Jessica to giggle once again. Rachel looked at Jessica and sighed, “Has your husband…” Jessica interrupted, “Honey, he never stopped. It’s scandalous, just scandalous. I have done everything I can to get him to cease and desist, but to no avail.”

  Rachel smiled fondly, “Mrs. Chamberlin, I once thought that your husband was the source of this disease; now, I see that he was infected by his wife. So, since we all know what you three plotters were talking about, where were you?” Karl said, “I told them that I am seriously considering leaving the Marines when my enlistment ends.” Rachel asked, “Mr. Chamberlin has told me that you are a Marine, as against a volunteer in the military who happens to be wearing a Marine uniform. If that is so, could you be happy as a civilian?” Karl shocked John, “If I leave the Marines, Captain Chamberlin will ensure that I have a career that I love. In fact, he’s already given us a glimpse of my future, of our future.”

  In the dense silence that followed those words, Karl added, “Sir, when you are ready to talk, I have some ideas I’d like to float by you.” It wasn’t a question. John took a deep breath, let it out and asked, “You have some ideas? If you had just one idea, it would be two more than I have.”

  Karl suddenly smiled, “Sir, pardon me for contradicting you, and pardon me in advance ladies, but bullshit.” Rachel’s eyes grew huge, and Jessica and John both burst into laughter. Jessica said, still laughing, “Rachel, I do believe you and I are going to be seeing a great deal of each other.” Rachel’s face revealed the war that was going on in her heart, but mirth finally triumphed, “Sergeant, Mrs. Chamberlin and I were contemplating inviting you over for a home cooked meal. Considering your language, I may have to reconsider.” Karl asked, “A home cooked meal? If I promised to be good, would that help my case?” Rachel said, looking directly at Karl, “Sergeant, there is a difference between being good, and being a good man. I seriously doubt that in thirty years you have ever been good, but I do believe that you are a very good man.”

  She looked at Jessica, who promptly said, “Tomorrow.” Rachel turned back to Karl and said, “Don’t be late. Bring flowers, lots of flowers.”

  Jessica looked at John’s face, which managed to show a slight amount of dismay, and said, “Shush.” John asked, “Shush?” she smiled angelically, “It was an historical reference, one you of all people should have recognized. Since my effort to pander to your peculiar interest, singular, failed, I shall translate: ‘shush’ means to refrain from speaking. As a professor, you may well find this to be particularly difficult, yet, now that you are married, you really need to learn.” John grinned, but didn’t speak. She laughed, “An excellent beginning, my love.”

  Chapter 45

  Over the next few days John slowly unwound. He was still a Captain in the Navy, but he had enough leave to get him through to the end of his enlistment, meaning that he had nothing to do save sleep and kiss his wife.

  The Navy didn’t seem terribly interested in retaining his services. The admiral had been much loved by the public because he was the first military leader to successfully prosecute the war. During the last two years of that conflict, however, Admiral Grigorivich had repeatedly butted heads with the desk-bound admirals who seemed to be fronting for the mostly Earth-based conglomerates that supplied eighty percent of the equipment, ships, supplies and munitions for the war effort. The admiral was uninterested in the many offers that came his way mostly because he was a relative rarity in government, a devout believer in the founding principles of the federation.

  Eighteen months ago, while the couple was in transit from a vacation retreat on Elyse up to orbit, the shuttle drive suffered a partial containment failure, releasing large amounts of radiation. The exposure was brief, but it was deadly. His wife of twenty-seven years was dead within a week. Seven other people died. The admiral recovered, but the damage to his system had been done.

  John and
his family spent an afternoon at the Padilla home. Mr. Padilla discussed his Navy contract for the Hawk. He said that it was a possible springboard to other, larger contracts with the Navy, but that he much preferred to pursue civilian jobs. He said that the war had consumed hundreds of freighters and passenger liners, and thousands of shuttles that now had to be replaced. He added, “I’ve sent twenty shuttle drives to Grenoble, and offered to continue to sell them more on a regular basis. I think we can do business with them. They’ve sent me a proposal to build their shuttle under license, and I’ve sent my older son to evaluate their design and their plant. What do you think?”

  John said, “I suggested the idea to them.” Mr. Padilla smiled, “Well, then I owe you. In fact, as I recall, I already owe you a great deal for the help you gave us in the design of the Hawk. On that subject, have you made any plans for your future?”

  They talked amicably for several more minutes before Castidad entered the room, “Father, mother is serving desert up on the roof garden.” That ended the gentle yet focused interrogation, at least temporarily.

  Chapter 46

  Over the course of the next few weeks the peaceful culture of Maya began to seep into him. He still had demons, still dreamed about the ugly blossoms of vapor that signified the death of yet another friend or enemy, and still had no idea what he wanted to do.

  He visited the university and sat in on a history lecture, finding he wanted to push the woman aside and take over, but the moment he tried to visualize himself standing in his familiar position in front of a room full of students, his heart thudded in his chest at the enormity of the conflict that still raged, although now with writs, warrants and corrupt politicians.

  He took to wearing civilian clothes, but his right hand twitched every time he passed someone in a uniform. His initial joy at returning home quickly evaporated as he contemplated his future.

  James seemed to be adapting much better than he was. His brother was due to be separated from the Navy on the same date as John, but he was busily engaged in working at the Hawk factory, where Mr. Padilla had put James on a team that was hard at work developing some running modifications to the Hawk. It had a few bugs, but compared to the other ships the brothers had served in, the Hawk was a miracle.

  One of the areas James wanted to improve was power, If the craft was accelerating at full power it took nearly ten seconds to recharge the energy weapon. The drive system was the largest currently available for the space available, so they were working on software improvements, where they felt they could shave as much as three seconds off the time.

  Another team was hard at work on a new infantryman suit that would allow the craft to drop its ten-man assault team from as high as one kilometer above ground. Once again, the greatest constraints involved space – whatever they developed had to fit in what was already a cramped compartment.

  Jessica was proving to be very understanding, and on those occasions when he found himself in a highly unusual foul temper, she gave him the space he needed to literally walk it off.

  Jordan and Jennifer were now in public school, doing very well, and in full-on teenage girl mode. Jessica was, as she was in most areas, their guide and mentor, meaning they dressed modestly, while yet managing to be startlingly graceful and feminine. John avoided any thought of the other term that fit, which was ‘jailbait’.

  One dismal afternoon – for John – he received an odd comm call from an off-planet number. He accepted and a woman with a polished accent that marked her as coming from Earth asked, “Am I speaking to Captain John Chamberlin?” He answered, trying not to share his dismal state of mind with a stranger, and she continued, “Sir, my name is Eleanor Kasdan. I have just arrived on Maya, and plan to overnight in Chavez. If it would be convenient, I would like to set an appointment to sit down with you early tomorrow morning. Would that be acceptable?” Her tone of voice indicated that she was accustomed to power, and to getting her way.

  John asked, “May I ask the purpose of this meeting?” She said, “I am an attorney with the firm of Kasdan and Kasdan, headquartered in New York, on Earth. We have an arrangement with the various federal worlds allowing us to conduct business off-planet. I would prefer to discuss the matter in a more secure setting. To that end I have reserved a meeting room in the offices of Producciones Padilla. I believe you are familiar with that firm, are you not?”

  John’s bad mood had by now evaporated under the onslaught of his natural curiosity, and he agreed to the early morning meeting. She signed off in a pleasant yet formally distant tone of voice, “I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow. We request that you refrain from discussing the appointment with anyone.”

  John was by now seriously interested. It was not a military matter, and was apparently not connected with anything having to do with Maya. The only thing he could think of would be Grenoble. Perhaps the consortium was running into trouble and wanted help? If so, the consortium was in deep trouble – he had heard that the new commissioner was proving to be extremely difficult, and had done everything but throw him off the planet.

  Early the next morning he set out for the one kilometer run to the Padilla Building, a new structure just outside of the original commercial area of Chavez. Public transportation was free, widely available and convenient, but John was trying to get back into condition after his sojourn on Grenoble, where he’d never had enough time in the day to go running, a fact that a certain Marine ensured he regretted, virtually every day.

  It was a beautiful morning and since it was a mere one kilometer he was barely breathing hard when he walked in the main entrance. The building was able to read his identification chip, but Padilla was a military contractor, so he had to undergo a second, more secure process to gain entrance to the interior of the building. An attendant told him, “Sir, you are expected. Please pass directly to Aula 347, third floor, west end.”

  John found the room number, and after yet another scan, the door unlocked. He entered and found a pleasant seating area, with a number of live plants, and two live people, one of them middle aged, female and attractive. The second person was an older man, dressed beautifully, yet his body posture clearly revealed that she was the one in charge. They both stood when he entered the seating area and the man stepped forward to shake hands, “Good morning Captain Padilla. My name is Robert Chung, and this is Eleanor Kasdan. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He failed to take the slightest interest in John’s running clothes.

  John shook hands with both, and she gracefully indicated that he take a seat across from her on a colorful sofa.

  Once everyone was settled Mr. Chung asked, “Captain Chamberlin, before we begin, it is necessary that we ensure that you are in fact the person we have come to see.” He pulled a tiny device from a large briefcase and asked, “Sir, would you please hold the device in your right hand at eye level, and speak the words as shown?”

  This was a new procedure for John, but he couldn’t find a reason not to do it. He accepted the device, held it at the required height and read, “My name is John Chamberlin, native of Chavez, the Maya system.” It seemed a dead simple procedure, but he realized that the device would be able to read his hand print, scan his eye, compare his voice and perform other, more subtle measurements. He handed the device back to Mr. Chung, who calmly waited for a long moment before smiling, “Thank you sir. Now, I shall turn the meeting over to Miss Kasdan.”

  So, the older guy was a security geek. Interesting. Miss Kasdan said, “Captain Padilla, we have some coffee; actually, some that we brought with us from New York, and we have some excellent local rolls.” She seemed to expect him to agree, and in fact, he did. She also seemed to be aware that the war had caused shortages, and had planned ahead.

  It took a few moments to pour the coffee, sugar it to taste and choose a sweet roll from a small selection. After a sip and a bite, he settled into a more comfortable position and looked at the woman. She smiled, and this time it seemed genuine, and changed her from a coldly a
ttractive middle aged woman into a very attractive woman. Interesting squared.

  She looked back, and after a few moments her eyes crinkled, “Captain Chamberlin, I represent the estate of Admiral Grigorivich. He has written about you, and I must admit I looked forward with some anticipation to this meeting. Fortunately, you have not disappointed. Not yet.”

  She continued to smile, taking the bite out of her amendment, turning it into an almost joke. Possibly. John could already tell that this woman was seriously capable, and a sudden thought flashed through the back of his mind, of all the inept, cowardly and deadly leaders he and the hundreds of thousands of men and women had suffered under.

  She caught the flicker and simply asked, “Captain, have I said something to offend?” John knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was no way he was going to get anything past this woman, and said, baldly, “You are highly competent – and that caused me to think of the legions of incompetents who have led so many thousands of us to our deaths. I say this, assuming you know how I feel about Admiral Grigorivich.”

  She nodded, apparently learning something more about him, and asked, “Captain, at the beginning of this meeting you readily agreed to allow us to test you; yet, you have made no effort to require us to prove our bona fides. May I ask why?”