Scavenger Falters (The SkyRyders Book 2)

by Liza O'Connor

  The general frowned. “So if a top flyer fails twice, he won’t train again until the worst flyer trains.”

  Jack met his glare. “Sir, there isn’t a weak flyer in your troops. And there appears to be no correlation between flying rank and learning these new maneuvers if you use First Squad as your test case. Three of first squad were Logan’s—”

  “Four—don’t forget Phily,” the general insisted.

  “Four,” Jack agreed. “But Tucker was ranked 230th and he clearly proved to be the best marksman and flyer.”

  “Point taken. Why don’t we just send them back after their first failure?”

  “Alisha thinks it’s inefficient. They could be just on the edge of learning the skill sufficiently to pass. If they are immediately knocked out and forced to sit out for a week, they’ll lose that momentum.”

  “Sounds like you two have got it all figured out!” Then Powell’s forehead furrowed. “If you can teach fifty at a time, why are you so concerned about hitting my target of a hundred flyers being trained?”

  “Vertical flight takeoff and descent are easy. Beyond that, the number that can be trained diminishes greatly. Only fifteen can be taught air surfing in the wind tunnel in a two-hour slot. I know our budget is tight, but MAC might want to consider obtaining a fourth wind tunnel. Getting sufficient airtime in the tunnel is clearly going to be a bottleneck. We’ll have to set up queuing for the tunnels as well, but right now we don’t know how long it will take a good flyer to adapt to feeling comfortable surfing wind.”

  “I’ll put in the request, but I don’t see how MAC can swing it,” Powell warned.

  “Once a flyer graduates the air tunnel, training becomes one-on-one. At least until we can figure out some way to simulate what goes on in the air.”

  “And this is why we need Logan in this training? So he can help get the flyers through this portion?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jack nodded. “Initial training of a collapsed catcher dive requires Alisha to carry the student along with her. She cannot carry more than a hundred twenty pounds, which limits the flyers she can teach. Logan can easily carry two fifty.”

  “But if she can’t carry more than a hundred twenty, then how’s she going to teach Logan?” Taylor asked.

  Jack paused. He certainly didn’t want to say anything that would feed the rumors of romantic interest between her and Logan. “She’s seen Logan perform under stress and has absolute confidence that he can learn and perform this maneuver.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain how she’ll teach him…”

  “Instead of her being in control, she’ll be harnessed onto my back, talking me through the maneuver,” Logan explained.

  “And if you screw up?” Taylor persisted.

  “Then we’ll both probably die. Her fate will lie entirely in my ability to get it right.”

  The table was utterly quiet for several seconds.

  “And that, colonels, is what I call putting your balls on the line,” the general observed.

  Finally, Dryer spoke. “No offense meant by this, Logan, you’re a damned good flyer, but if you screw up, we’ve lost an amazing resource.”

  Powell quickly replied. “War is about risk and choosing the time and place to risk resources. We’ve already sent Alisha into two blatant suicide missions. Compared to those, this is a cakewalk. I have absolute confidence Logan will not fail me.”

  “But if he does?” Thompson asked.

  “Then I’ll demote him posthumously to buck private,” the general replied.

  “Seriously, sir…” Thompson persisted.

  “I will have lost my best damned field commander and my best flyer, but not their influence. We’ll still have the modifications to our catchers, flyers to teach the vertical lift, and the videos that show us what is possible. It’ll take us longer, but our flyers will still learn these maneuvers.” Powell then looked at Logan. “Want to add anything to this matter, Logan?”

  “Just that you don’t really need to dwell on that scenario, sir. I will bring her down safely.”

  “Damn right!” the general exclaimed as he slammed his fist onto the table with such force that every plate and glass jumped a full inch in the air as if snapping to attention. However, a second later, the coordinated salute turned to chaos as the wineglasses landed badly.

  Logan’s wineglass, safely secured by his hand, was the only one left standing. Little kernels of corn, freed from their plates, rolled aimlessly on the table as red wine swept across the tablecloth creating rivers and lakes of blood.

  Powell stared at the devastation in surprise.

  Jack desperately tried to suppress his laughter.

  “Is something amusing you, Jack?” the general asked, his voice soft and somewhat menacing.

  “I’m trying not to be amused, sir,” Jack assured him. “But the table looks like a mockup of the Broadtown battle after it was won.” Jack pointed out the long streak of wine. “See, here’s the Cully River. The broccoli is what’s left of the compound. The blown-up mashed potatoes are where the tank used to be. And all the little kernels of corn are the bodies of fleeing Cartel soldiers.”

  The general looked as if he might bellow again, but gave the table a second glance.

  “Do you see it, sir?” Jack asked.

  “No, Jack. What I see is a big fucking mess, caused by me slamming my fist down too hard. If you see the Broadtown battle, then I think it’s time to cut off the drinks and send you all to bed.” Powell stood up.

  Everyone stood, glad to distance themselves from the table.

  “Riley, a moment please,” the general called out. Riley reluctantly turned and approached.

  “I’ve been thinking about your wife…the other Colonel Riley.”

  “Really, sir?” Riley replied with a slight hint of surprise. “I’ve thought of her frequently tonight as well. It struck me that seeing as how well she and Alisha get along, they might have enjoyed each other’s company, had she been invited.”

  “I know that, and I’ve already apologized,” the general snapped. “So let’s just get beyond it and move on. As you are aware, Alisha has not been trained in weaponry.”

  “I am aware,” Riley replied. “Her mission last night was technically ‘unreasonable’ and according to reg 13.356 she was duty bound to refuse the order.”

  “But she flew it!” the general reminded him.

  “She did, but only after MAC permanently rescinded reg 13.356.”

  Only Logan knew the true reason she had insisted that MAC rescind the reg. She’d done it to save Ollie.

  The general frowned, but stayed on topic. “Well, it struck me that perhaps the other Colonel Riley, your wife, might stay for the next few weeks and help Alisha with her weapons training and assist in the training of the troops.”

  Both Logan and Riley were stunned. The general had frequently claimed he’d go to his grave before Riley’s wife stepped foot in his fort.

  “You want Anna to come here and train Alisha and help train the soldiers?” Riley restated.

  “Has the wine gone to your head, Riley? I clearly said that. Why do you keep asking me to repeat myself?”

  “I’ll let her know,” Riley replied.

  “Call her now. I want her here first thing in the morning.” Powell stormed off without waiting for Riley’s response.

  Riley looked at Logan. “He did just say he wanted Anna here in his fort, the first thing tomorrow?”

  “That’s what he said,” Logan assured him.

  “Your girl is amazing. In the Corps for two days, and she has redefined flying, altered our gear, gotten a bad reg rescinded and turned an evil-tempered, unreasonable misogynist into an…”

  “Evil-tempered, unreasonable general who still calls his most promising colonel a puny little girl,” Logan filled in.

  Riley shrugged. “Well, it’s still one hell of an improvement!”

  Chapter 7

  Alisha was sound asleep when the earthquake began. It t
ook her several painful seconds to wake up and realize that there wasn’t an earthquake, there was only Jack, seated on the edge of her bunk, shaking her.

  “Rise and shine, colonel. You’ve a busy day ahead.”

  Alisha groaned. How could it already be morning? She felt like she’d just fallen asleep. “What time is it?”

  “You’ve now only twelve minutes to dress and groom for the day. I wouldn’t waste any more time with unnecessary questions,” Jack lectured as he stood up, pulled her out of bed and walked her to the bathroom. He gently pushed her in and closed the door behind her. “Eleven minutes!” he yelled out.

  A few minutes later she came out, still looking dazed, her dark brown hair brushed and pulled into a ponytail. She walked to her closet.

  “Wear fatigues. You’ll go directly from breakfast to your weapons lessons.”

  “And then?”

  “Training starts at eight a.m. sharp. General Powell will introduce you. You’ll give a demonstration of the eight maneuvers we expect the Ryders to learn, and then the general will go through the rules of engagement.”

  “Sounds like a battle,” Alisha grumbled as she started to pull off her pajama top and then realized Jack was looking at her. “Turn around.”

  “Alisha, I’ve seen women’s bodies.”

  “Well, not mine…turn around!”

  Jack sighed and turned his back to her. “To your comment about this sounding like a battle, for the cadets it is. Their ability to learn these maneuvers will make or break their careers. Their world has changed, starting today.”

  “Great, they must love me!” she sighed as she slipped on her fatigues and zipped up the front.

  Jack turned and smiled. “This is a good wind you bring, Alisha. There’s not a Ryder out there who doesn’t want to be the first to learn your skills.”

  “Hey, I didn’t give you permission to turn around!”

  “You’re dressed.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t know that!”

  Jack shook his head. “You’ve one minute to get your socks and shoes on, Miss Modesty.”

  Chapter 8

  Only General Powell would think it’s reasonable to set a meeting at 3:30 in the morning, Logan concluded as he dressed in fatigues and met the general in the officers’ commons.

  “Logan, you look like hell,” Powell said.

  “I had hoped to get a little more than five hours of sleep before learning to fly today, sir,” Logan snapped in return.

  “I’m sorry for the early wake-up, but I thought you’d want to read these updates. The East Coast is in shambles.” Powell handed him the reports.

  Logan read the updates from MAC. The Cartel had used the same damned trick on Maine’s Fort Lawrence as they had tried in Broadtown. Except Fort Lawrence didn’t have an Alisha who could fly upwind. The result was an utter routing. All fifteen Ryders and fifty-three ground soldiers were dead. West Virginia would have suffered the same fate, except some local hunters had decided to join the fray and take out the concussion launchers. Florida was safe, but only because MAC had moved enough ground soldiers into the city that the cartel couldn’t get close enough to Fort Myers to even try launching a missile.

  “Maybe I should go now,” Logan said. In two weeks, there might be nothing left to save.

  “I suggested that to MAC, but it turned the suggestion down. It needs you trained, Logan. There are several fine colonels on the East Coast. We need more than that to rally the troops. We need a goddamn hero.”

  Logan frowned at the word hero. “I don’t think I’m the hero type, General.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. What is important is what the troops think. I happen to know the men and women under your command have held you in hero status for quite some time. I just need you to do what you’ve always done on a larger scale and with better flying skills. So you will stay and you will train. You will pass every maneuver in one test, do I make myself clear?” the general barked.

  “That’s my intention, general,” Logan replied.

  “Very good. Then you may leave if you like, or stay to grill your girl on her regs.”

  “When has she had time to study?”

  “Jack says she spent the whole trip back to Capital grousing over each and every one of them.”

  Logan smiled. He didn’t doubt that for a moment.

  Chapter 9

  As Alisha and Jack walked outside into the darkness of night, she balked. “What time is it?”

  “It is 3:59. And we need to pick up the pace unless you like being yelled at by the general. Preferably, I like my mornings without bellowing until at least eight a.m.”

  Alisha thought it a ridiculous hour to be dragging her to breakfast, but she had to agree that she didn’t wish to hear Powell yell so early. When they arrived at the officers’ commons, the only occupants were the general and Colonel Logan. Seeing Logan’s smile as she walked in almost made getting up in the middle of the night worth it.

  However, if she thought that breakfast was going to be fun, she soon learned the error of her belief. Between bites of breakfast, all three of them were intent on feeding her bites of regulations 13-14. The general harassed her on 14; the Colonel had 13, and Jack aided on both. They would read the reg, then quiz her on its meaning, and finally Jack would provide situations and ask her which regs were relevant and what she would do.

  The only thing that made the exercise tolerable was that Jack’s examples were always funny. “You’re on leave, having a nice day in the Capital, when suddenly you see a Ryder land right smack in a crowd of people on Hathworth street. Worse yet, he is completely nude. What regs have been touched upon and what is your course of action?”

  “First, I ensure no civilian has been injured by his action. Then with my own money, I purchase an Indian shawl from the street vendor and order the soldier to wrap himself up. I then get the catcher out of the street because it’s a traffic hazard—”

  “The regs, Alisha…” Logan reminded her.

  “Reg 13.89…3?” she stated without certainty. “Except during battle conditions all effort should be made that no civilian is harmed or injured during flight exercises.”

  “How do you know he’s not part of a battle squad?” Jack asked.

  “This one I’ve got. Reg 3.342 states that all soldiers must be properly geared for battle. Clearly, he was not. Reg 2.67 states that on-duty officers must be in uniform. Finally, Reg 14.2…67…no, 66, says that when a soldier is not on duty and off Corps sites that his behavior is regulated by the laws and cultural standards of the place of occupancy. While nudity is not illegal in Capital, the street the soldier has landed on is mostly southern Baptist, so the sight of a nude soldier would be offensive to their cultural standards, which is why I bought him a shawl and ordered him to cover up. Reg 14.678 says that an officer is responsible for enforcing all regulations whether on or off duty, regardless of whether the offending soldier is directly under the officer’s command. That is also why I cleared the catcher, because causing a traffic obstruction is illegal in the Capital.”

  “Yeah, but that is clearly never enforced,” Jack observed. “Just ask the vendor you bought the shawl from. He’s probably pulled his cart right in the middle of the street for better traffic business.”

  “Reg 14.891 says the Corps is required to uphold and abide all laws currently instated, regardless whether they are enforced upon the general public.”

  “That can’t be right,” Powell said and looked at his book.

  “That’s what it says,” Logan observed.

  “I think we should get that one rescinded as well,” Powell muttered.

  Alisha nodded. “I think there’s quite a few of the regs that need to be rescinded, but 14.891 is definitely one of them. It sounds good in theory, but what if a town controlled by the Drug Cartel passed a law that forbids flying or weaponry within city limits? They could dress it up real pretty: ‘Make our streets safe: ban guns.’ Show some scavengers sweepi
ng down and stealing your groceries right out of your hands. So the town votes out the guns and flyers. Then the Cartel, which controls local enforcement, proceeds to ignore the laws and go on with their business, but now it’s a Corps-free zone. We can only send in ground troops, and they can’t carry guns.”

  General Powell glared at Jack.

  Jack reached behind him and grabbed paper and pen. Making a quick note, he finally looked up. “What other ones bother you?”

  “Well, Reg 14.266…if that’s the ‘obey local cultural standards’ law.”

  “It is,” Jack replied, “And the reason being much the same?”

  “Sure. Cultural standards are difficult. For example, that law would prevent a female soldier from entering a quarter of Capital.”

  “But that reg only applies when they aren’t on duty,” the general objected.

  “Yes, but let’s say I walk from Hathworth Street three blocks down to Melborne, wearing these fatigues. I have violated some cultural standard on each block. Didn’t hurt anyone, and normally no one would ever complain. But what if they decided to make an issue and beat me with their god sticks…or worse drag me down into a cellar and leave me there until their God has forgiven me for my transgression? According to this Reg, the Corps can’t do a thing. When we are off duty, it cedes its control and protection over to local governments and even more frightening, local cultural standards.”

  Jack didn’t even wait for the general’s nod, he just wrote it down on the sheet.

  By the time Alisha had finished her ‘what ifs,’ most of the Regs in 13 and 14 were on the list.

  “Who the hell approved these?” the general demanded.

  Jack looked a little uncomfortable. “They were part of our effort to work more closely with the communities. But we all had a chance to object to them. We just didn’t look at them closely enough.”