Hellfire- The Series, Volumes 1-3

by Leigh Barker

“Yeah, I’m feeling it.”

  The vibration rose in intensity and lasted for a little over a minute, then changed to the roar of air rushing past the craft’s skin.

  “I don’t hear no engines,” Loco said.

  “That’s because this space plane doesn’t have any,” Winter said.

  Loco jumped. “What? Then how we going to land?”

  “Landing’s the easy bit if you don’t have engines,” Ethan said.

  “We’ll glide down,” Winter said. “Just like you’ve seen the shuttle do on the news.”

  “Yeah, right, I’ve seen that,” Loco said, and relaxed.

  “Osan’s got a long enough runway, right?” Smokey said. “I’ve seen those shuttle landings and they burn a lot of tarmac.”

  “This is smaller than a shuttle,” Winter said. “A quarter the size. Osan’s got a nine-thousand-foot runway. That’s long enough and change.”

  “How long does this no-engine landing take?” Loco said, his voice missing its usual easy tone.

  “We’ve been descending for what?” Winter looked at his watch. “Ten minutes. Maybe twice that to go. Maybe not. How would I know?”

  “You’re doing okay,” Ethan said. “How come you know all this stuff?” He didn’t really care, but Loco was never nervous. Until now. And good cause.

  “I read about the shuttle on a flight back from Iraq once,” Winter said. “Those guys have more courage than is natural in a person.”

  “Copy that,” Ethan said. “Makes fighting the Taliban look like a paintball spat.”

  “So we blew up the nukes,” Gunny said, picking up Ethan’s lead. “Well, Top blew up the nukes and managed not to kick off a chain reaction.”

  “Saved our asses though,” Smokey said. “Where’d you think they got nukes anyway?”

  “You can buy anything in this screwed-up world if you’ve got enough cash.”

  “North Korea hasn’t got enough of anything to feed its people,” Winter said.

  “Maybe not, but they can find the money to build ballistic missiles to target the US,” Gunny said. “How insane is that? Like finding the biggest kid in the yard and kicking him in the nuts.”

  They felt the Orbiter decelerate sharply as it deployed its chute.

  “Make sure your seat backs and folding trays are in their upright position,” Ethan said. “We’re about to land in good old Seoul.”

  The Orbiter hit the tarmac like a trainee pilot’s first landing, then ran on and on while its brakes and chute brought it down from its two-hundred-mile-an-hour headlong rush.

  “How long did you say this runway was?” Loco said.

  “Long enough,” Winter said.

  The Orbiter eased back and eventually stopped.

  “I’ve got a question,” Smokey said. “Anybody know how to open the doors?”

  The loading bay doors hummed opened and let in fresh air and bright sunshine.

  They could hear the sound of approaching vehicles and Ethan smiled. “Bet they didn’t expect us to bring back a present.”

  He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up in the cramped space, looked to his right and stayed very still. The three airman were standing on a hydraulic lift, but it was the M16s pointing their way that encouraged the team to sit very still.

  “Stand down, airmen,” Ethan said. “We’re the good guys.”

  The airmen didn’t move or even blink.

  “I’m looking forward to your explanation of what you’re doing with our X-37,” a voice said from the other side of the Orbiter.

  Ethan turned slowly so nobody got excited, and saw an air force colonel leaning on the bay door and looking down on them. “It’ll be my pleasure to tell you all about it, sir.” Ethan nodded at the men with the guns. “If your men will let us borrow their lift.”

  The colonel looked at him for a while, as if deciding whether or not to have him shot, then glanced at the men. “Help these boys out of this thing, Sergeant.” He gave Ethan another long looking at. “Leave the hardware.”

  Ethan took his Sig out of its holster slowly and placed it on the seat and checked that the others were doing the same. Even Loco.

  He climbed out onto the hydraulic lift and looked around slowly, his face creased in a frown.

  The others joined him on the crowded lift, but said nothing. That was left to Loco.

  “Hey, I know this place. It ain’t no Osan Air Force Base neither.”

  “No,” Ethan said, “it’s Vandenberg.” He shook his head. “We flew six thousand miles in—” he looked at his watch “—a little over an hour.”

  “Beats a C-130 any day of the week,” Loco said, grinning. Back to normal.

  “Take these men to the stockade,” the colonel said, then disappeared as his lift lowered him out of sight.

  “That’s a bit harsh,” Loco said to the sergeant in charge of the firing squad.

  The man blinked at him slowly with ice-blue eyes. If there was a human in there, the robot had him heavily sedated. But if they’d swapped places, Loco guessed he’d be a bit suspicious of marines flying their prize spaceship out of nowhere.

  They stepped off the lift and let the dozen armed airmen show them to the transport to their accommodation. They climbed into the back of the truck, followed by the sergeant and a senior airman, who sat at the back, without speaking.

  The truck moved off and Ethan rested his elbows on his knees and leaned towards Loco. “Just answer questions. Don’t say anything to annoy them or we’ll be in the stockade for real.”

  Loco pointed at his chest. “Me? Would I say anything to annoy our fine fly boys who sit in the Californian sunshine and arrest their fellow countrymen for rescuing the spaceship they lost?” He shook his head. “Never hear it from me, Top.”

  Ethan sighed heavily and leaned back against the wooden seat. It was going to be a long day.

  The air force colonel sat back in his chair and looked up at Ethan and the team standing relaxed in a semicircle in front of his desk. His expression was blank and still. He picked up a page from a thin folder and read it slowly, for effect.

  “That says we’re marines on a mission.” Ethan almost said from God, but caught himself. Maybe the colonel wasn’t a fan of The Blues Brothers, or maybe he just wouldn’t get it. Either way not being a smart-ass with two guards armed with M16s seemed like the best policy. “It says we’re on a mission for SecNav.”

  The colonel put the paper back in the buff folder and closed it. Also for effect. The effect it was having on Ethan was mild irritation.

  “What I see,” the colonel said, in a soft Southern accent, “is four people dressed in ragtag fatigues you can buy off eBay for a few dollars.”

  “Did he say ragtag, Top?” Loco said.

  The colonel shifted his eyes only and looked Loco up and down, and dismissed him.

  “These eBay ragtags brought your spaceship back,” Ethan said, his words clipped. “After you and your pretty fly boys lost it.”

  “Yes,” the colonel said, “I was coming to that.”

  “Good,” Ethan said, “I promised the men a beer.”

  “Oh, there’ll be no beer for you or your men. Oh no, not in your lifetime.” He raised his eyebrows. “You do know terrorism gets you a ticket to Gitmo, don’t you?”

  “Terrorism?” Gunny said. “We saved your spaceship, you pompous ass.”

  The eyebrows again. “As I suspected, not military. What? Mercenaries? Or just thieves?”

  Ethan put his fists on the colonel’s desk and leaned forward until his face was inches from the man. “I’m going to say this slowly, because you’re a fly boy and all that thin air has rotted your brains.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “These men are marines, the best I’ve ever served with, and they just got through fighting off the North Korean army so we could pull your nuts out of the fire.” He stood up. “And you, sitting behind your comfortable desk on your flabby ass, you disrespect these men? The next time you see the wrong end of a rifle will be th
e first, you pen-pushing, shiny-assed politician.”

  Ethan felt better. The colonel didn’t; he just felt furious.

  “One word, I raise my finger, and my men will put you down.”

  Ethan smiled an evil smile at him and glanced over his shoulder.

  Without any hint of a get-set, Gunny and Winter turned and sidestepped out of the line of the M16s, glided forward and took the rifles out of the guards’ hands before their brains had registered what the hell was happening. One of them stared at his empty hands and the other just stared at Winter, his mouth moving but silent.

  “You were saying?” Ethan said. “Oh yes. Not military.”

  “You won’t get off this base. There are three thousand men and women on this base, and I’ll see to it that every one of them—”

  “Not escaping,” Ethan said.

  The colonel blinked at him, lost for words.

  “We’re going to wait for the Secretary of the Navy to call you and tell you to stop dicking around.” He pointed at the red phone on the colonel’s desk.

  A red phone. He shook his head.

  “You’re terrorists. And you have assaulted members of my command. You are deluding yourself if you think the Secretary of the Navy or anybody—”

  The red phone rang.

  Ethan pointed at it and smiled.

  The colonel picked it up and stiffened. “Yes, Mr. Secretary. Of course, sir. At once, sir.”

  He handed Ethan the phone.

  “Is it for me?” Ethan took the phone. He listened for a while, said copy that and handed it back to the colonel. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Ethan glanced at Gunny and Winter and they gave the guards their guns back. With a grin.

  “M16s in a small office?” Gunny said close to the guard’s ear. “Never going to work. A 5.56 mil at this range is gonna punch through me and blow your colonel’s head clean off.”

  The colonel licked his lips and put the phone to his ear. “Sir. Yes, sir. Of cour—no, sir, I would never—thank you, sir. I will do—” He looked at the phone and put it down.

  “I’d say he’s talking to your commanding officer about now,” Ethan said. “Arranging a nice first-class flight back to DC for us ragtag terrorists.”

  Ethan walked to the door, stopped and turned. “Oh, you’re welcome.”

  The colonel frowned.

  “Your spaceship returned with SecNav’s compliments.” Ethan opened the door. “Your CO is going to be so impressed.”

  The flight to Washington wasn’t first class, it was in the back of a C-141 transport, but it made little difference. They slept the whole way comfortably wrapped in cargo webbing.

  Five hours of uninterrupted sleep and the plane touched down at Andrews. Ethan opened his eyes, checked his watch and wondered what time it really was in his head. Before dawn they’d been over North Korea. Since then they’d been spacemen, flown across the Pacific Ocean quicker than crossing the street, been terrorists, and crossed the US. So the time must be somewhere around completely nuts.

  The tailgate lowered and the loadmaster waved them out onto the runway, where there was a truck waiting for them.

  “You think we’ll get breakfast?” Loco said, then frowned. “Or is it lunch? My head hurts.”

  “They’ll want to give us medals and a parade first,” Winter said.

  “Hey, you think we’ll get a medal?” Loco said.

  “Sure, why not? We’re heroes, right?”

  “Be lucky if they don’t throw us in Leavenworth,” Ethan said, and saw the puzzled looks. “We just started another Korean war. Somebody’s going to be pissed at us.”

  “No change there,” Gunny said.

  “I hear that,” Ethan said, and climbed into the back of the truck and sat back against the familiar wooden bench. At least they were home instead of standing against a wall, smoking a last cigarette. He didn’t smoke, but a last one was hardly going to shorten his life expectancy. He closed his eyes and tried to think positive thoughts. Like that had ever worked.

  The truck pulled up outside one of the many admin buildings and the team climbed down and looked around, expecting to see something or somebody. What they saw was the truck driving away.

  “This is it, then?” Gunny said. “We get dropped off at the side of the road like goddamned hitchhikers. I gotta tell you I’m getting real sick of this crap. We put our asses on the line time and again and for what? So some suit can take all the credit and treat us like the hired help after some shit party. Just once, one time I’d like some pen-pusher to say thanks. Nothing else, just—”

  “Thanks.”

  He turned around slowly. He’d recognised the speaker’s voice.

  “Mr. Secretary.” He pulled a face at Ethan. “I was just, well, just—”

  “Blowing off steam?” SecNav said.

  “Yeah, something like that.” Gunny shrugged. “Stress of combat, that kinda thing.”

  “I doubt that. I’d say you don’t find combat the least bit stressful. Eat it up like candy.” SecNav frowned. “More like cocaine.” He put out his hand. “Allow me to thank you, Gunnery Sergeant Charles Petty, on behalf of a grateful United States of America.”

  Gunny shook his hand. Not much else he could do. Ethan looked away in case he laughed out loud. There was never a camera when you desperately needed one.

  SecNav turned to Ethan and put out his hand again.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Secretary. I don’t need thanks.”

  “Really?”

  “We robbed their federal reserve while we were over there.” Ethan shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

  “Quite.” SecNav pointed at his Suburban. “Will you take a drive with me?” It really sounded like it was a request.

  The team moved as one and SecNav raised a hand. “Just Master Sergeant Gill. The rest of you can grab some lunch or a beer, or whatever it is hired help does after a shit party.”

  Gunny looked at the building to make sure there were no structural defects visible from the road.

  SecNav started to walk to the car, stopped and turned around. “Or take a shower. Yes, take a shower.”

  Ethan walked around to the other side of the car and got in the back next to SecNav. The aircon was on, but after that last comment, he took a couple of stealthy sniffs. And SecNav chuckled quietly.

  “There’s somebody I’d like you to meet,” he said, and tapped the glass partition separating them from the driver.

  “Not really dressed for a meeting.”

  “You’ll do. I don’t think my guest is much of a stickler for presentation.”

  “And who is your guest?”

  SecNav smiled by way of an answer.

  It was mid afternoon, and although George Washington Memorial Parkway was busy, it was moving well and they arrived at SecNav’s office in a little over half an hour, with SecNav saying nothing the whole journey. And that suited Ethan just fine. Smalltalk was like marriage; fine in principle, but it soon escalated to heated discussions and harsh words leading to an acrimonious parting of the ways. Yeah, silence was just fine.

  The Pentagon security watched the guy in the scruffy cheap camouflage walk through reception to the elevator, but nobody made any attempt to intercept him. He was with the Secretary of the Navy and that was a gold-plated hall pass.

  “You want coffee before we meet my guest?” SecNav said as they rode the elevator up to his floor.

  “Do you think I’m going to need it?”

  SecNav chuckled. Once. “Something stronger perhaps.”

  “I’ll pass on both, Mr. Secretary.”

  For a terrifying moment, Ethan thought SecNav was going to say something like, hey, you can call me Bob. The moment passed. What the hell was his name anyway? He doubted it was Bob.

  SecNav’s PA held his office door open and waited for them to pass, turning her head and flinching as Ethan went by.

  “New cologne,” Ethan said. “What do you think?”

 
She moved a step away. “I think it could catch on.” She let the door go. “Midnight with the hobos, is it?”

  “Something like that,” Ethan said to the closing door.

  “I believe you know Akio Takahashi,” SecNav said, nodding towards the Japanese American leaning his back against the wall next to the window.

  “We’ve met,” Ethan said. “Gave us the loan of a Land Rover and some toys for our vacation. Saved us from some embarrassment too, I think.”

  “You’re welcome,” Akio said, and pushed himself off the wall to stand next to SecNav’s desk.

  SecNav sat on one of his sofas. “Takahashi is with the CIA.”

  “Yeah, I kinda guessed that when he turned up in La Paz, bearing gifts.”

  “I have another gift for you,” Akio said.

  Ethan sat on the sofa opposite SecNav and waited. The spook would get around to it in his own good time. And he’d earned a mountain of give for his lone wolf superhero persona in the jungle.

  Akio sat on the edge of SecNav’s desk and ignored the hard look. “Information sometimes falls into my lap.”

  “That happens,” Ethan said.

  “You’re looking for Orpheus.”

  Ethan sat up. “You know him?”

  Akio shook his head. “Not yet. Or even if it’s a him. Might be a she or even a them.”

  “Might be,” Ethan said. “So what is this information that’s dropped into your lap?”

  Akio was silent for a while as if considering how to put it. Ethan doubted he’d ever needed to think a thing through.

  “There’s a whisper.”

  “My mom told me never to listen to whispers,” Ethan said.

  “You should listen to this one.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.” Ethan raised his hand. “No, don’t tell me. Somebody wants me dead.”

  “No,” Akio said.

  “That’s a first.”

  “Not you.”

  Ethan sat up, then relaxed. “The boys can look after themselves. Been doing it long enough.”

  Nobody spoke.

  Ethan looked from SecNav back to Akio. “Andie?”

  He nodded once.

  Ethan did what he always did when new information rattled him, he took a long breath, closed his eyes and said no cause for alarm.