Wings of Steele: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  ■ ■ ■

  Deep in thought, Commander Yafusco was standing with his arms folded, his back to the chart table in his ready room, leaning on its edge, staring out of the observation window at the silently passing stars, a dusty red planet with streaks of green and blue in the distance, rotating slowly. A floating hologram of solar systems strung together by their connective gates stretched across the table, their golden glow the only light in the room. When the door to his office slid open behind him, it barely registered and he took no notice, maintaining his vigil of the passing celestial scenery.

  Grinah slid silently up against him, her arm finding its way around his waist. “You OK Tibby?”

  He was silent for a moment. “How long have we been out here Grinah?”

  “You mean this system?”

  “No. I mean, how long have we been in space? Personally I mean.”

  She looked up at his profile in the darkness, “I'm not sure, I've lost count... Five or six years I guess. You were out here first. We met when I was assigned to my first ship; the Harkener, remember?”

  “I remember. Ten years...”

  “You were out here five years before we met?”

  He shook his head slowly, “No... I was out here four years already when we met. We met, ten years ago. I've been out here nearly fourteen years.”

  She pushed herself away a little, “I've been out here ten years already?” She shook her head, “Ten years...” she whispered. Suddenly the words seemed to hold no meaning. “No, that can't be right...”

  “Ten years ago, today,” added Tibby with a weak smile. He put his arm around her and drew her back in, “Happy anniversary, Grinah...”

  “It all runs together,” she breathed, “it just doesn't seem possible.”

  “What bothers me,” he began, “is that I feel like I'm in the same place now that I was... that we were, ten years ago...”

  Confused, she looked up at his profile again, “What do you mean? Where should we be?”

  He played that back in his mind and realized it didn't come out of his mouth the same way that it sounded in his head. “No, us – we,” he stumbled, “we're fine. I just hate after ten years we're still doing the same thing...” He held up his hand, “Wait, no - that's not what I meant it to sound like either...”

  “I understand.” She lay her hand on his chest, “You mean our circumstances, life. You thought things would be different by now...”

  “Exactly,” he sighed, relieved. “Do you know it's been seven years since I've set foot on soil?”

  “So you're saying the ship's garden doesn't count?” she joked.

  “No. No it doesn't...”

  She smiled in the darkness, the soft light from the holographic table reflecting off her face. “Our vacation on Dineau... the waterfalls were amazing...”

  “Remember the rental house on the lake?” He could still see it in his mind like it was yesterday.

  She leaned into him, “It was sooo peaceful... We could go again...”

  He rested his chin on the top of her head, his mind wandering. “Wouldn't it be great to own a little place like that? It would be a great place to raise kids...” He froze and stopped breathing the moment it came out of his mouth. The silence was deafening and it seemed to last for eons. Stupid thing to say. Idiot. It was a topic they'd avoided for years.

  “Children? With me?”

  “Can't have them by myself...” he said cautiously.

  “So, we'd get married then,” she said slowly, still clutching him.

  “If that's what you'd want,” he ventured tentatively, unsure of the right answer.

  She pushed herself slowly away, looking up at him, “If?”

  “Yes. Yes of course,” he smiled nervously, “we'd get married.” She drew back to him and he took that to mean she was comfortable with the outcome of the conversation. They stood together, silently embraced, watching the stars pass the window.

  Other than the FreeRanger articles of conduct forbidding it, he wondered why he'd never considered it before. It seemed a natural progression of their relationship. Because he was afraid she'd say no, that's why. And maybe the fact that he was up to his eyeballs in debt to pay off the ship. Yeah, that was in the fine print of accepting the command; providing enough income to the FreeRanger Council to cover the cost of the ship. And then some. Something called interest. He always wondered why they called it that, because he sure wasn't interested in paying it.

  Yafusco's mind went back to their first meeting; the years since then, the friends come and gone, the adventures, the miles traveled together, the close calls... “Marry me. Be my wife.” His heart skipped a beat, did he just say that out loud? Did his lips just form those words?

  Grinah didn't look up, continuing her gaze at the passing star system. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  “I think so...” he mumbled.

  “It wasn't really a question...” she teased.

  “You want me to ask again?”

  “She smiled to herself, “You didn't ask me the first time.”

  “Hmm, yeah, I wasn't even sure I really said it the first time.”

  “Consider it a dry run then,” she patted his chest. “Try it again. A girl likes to be romanced you know.”

  “I don't have a ring or anything...”

  “I don't care.”

  Despite his command presence and his rugged good looks, Commander T. B. Yafusco was not a man with a lot of romantic experience. The underpinnings of his character had begun at a parochial school level, through the military academy and into service. His exposure to members of the opposite sex and dating was limited at best, as was his skill in dealing with matters of the heart. He took Grinah's hand and took a deep breath, “On the anniversary of our first meeting...”

  “Aren't you supposed to be kneeling or something?” she offered.

  “Kneeling..? Really?”

  She nodded silently.

  “Do... you kneel too?”

  “No, just you,” she replied softly.

  He dropped to one knee in front of the woman he'd known intimately for ten years and waited for her nod of approval. “Ensign Grinah...”

  The ship-wide comm crackled, “Attention; Skipper to the bridge, Skipper to the bridge please...”

  Grinah grabbed him by the shoulder with her free hand, “Oh no you don't! You're not going anywhere till we're done. A girl doesn't get one of these every day. Whatever it is, it can wait...”

  Yafusco didn't even blink. “OK.”

  “Go ahead,” she coaxed.

  Still holding her hand he swallowed hard, suddenly realizing this was a little more difficult than he'd anticipated, “Ensign...” he paused for a moment, deciding her rank was uncalled for in this situation. “Grinah, from the first day I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. My only regret is that it took us two years for us to... well,” he shrugged, “I'm not the best at this...”

  “You're doing fine...” she cooed.

  “My only regret is that it took us two years to connect. And for me to realize how truly amazing you were. Your presence in my life has been the best part of my existence. You are my confidant, my counselor, my love... and I thank the Gods every day for blessing me with your presence. I cannot imagine what life would have been without you and I cannot bear to think of what my future would be like without you. I would be forever incomplete without you... will you be my wife?”

  Grinah dropped to her knees and put her arms around him, her lips in his ear, “That was absolutely wonderful. But you have it backwards, the Gods did not bless you, they answered my prayers - to find you... And I would love to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Freighter coming up off the surface of the third planet, Commander...”

  Commander Yafusco slid into his command chair, “Anybody we know?”

  “He's a neutral. But he had some information for us. They picked up the
group we're tracking from their position on the ground; three ships.”

  “Any details?”

  “They were taking on cargo, their systems were passive, but they recorded two large, one small, no identity pings.” The tactical officer pointed at Tibby's console, “readings are on screen; TAC 3.”

  Commander Yafusco flipped to his tactical readouts and paged to the third screen to see the scans and associated silhouettes. They were mostly featureless blobs but there was some shape – especially to the largest of the three. “That looks like a carrier...” he breathed, “and escorts.”

  “Didn't see any fighters, Commander.”

  Yafusco shook his head, “And you wouldn't, not at this resolution. But I'm betting they're there. That thing is a monster...”

  “You need anything else from the freighter captain?”

  In an exceptionally good mood, the Commander was still studying the digital recording of the ships and feeling rather generous, “No,” he waved absentmindedly, “he's done us a service, let him be on his way...” Reviewing the replay, it suddenly occurred to him the next system was Novellis. There were two other gates out of Novellis besides the one they'd be entering through; Red432 and Ossomon. “By the Gods, Ossomon...”

  “What about Ossomon?” Grinah slid into the first officer's seat, activating its vid screens.

  Tibby rubbed the stubble on his jaw, “This group, they're heading directly for the Novellis gate... they're going for Ossomon.”

  Grinah lifted an eyebrow, “How can you be sure... maybe they're going to Red432.”

  “There's nothing in Red432. Or the next two systems... nothing worth the tour anyway. This group is on patrol. I'd bet gold they're UFW Navy...” He pointed to the Ensign at the comm station, “Comms! Call fleet dispatch, have them broadcast an all-call in Ossomon. They need to let everyone know there's a UFW patrol headed in.”

  “What if you're wrong?” whispered Grinah.

  Yafusco leaned across the space between their seats,“Last I checked, we've got nothing in that system to fight a patrol group like that. If I'm wrong, a few people will be inconvenienced. If I'm right and we don't make the call, we could lose assets and people...”

  “So what will they do?”

  “Ground or clear anything pinging FreeRanger from the system. They can go to ground or evacuate, hide, go dark... The system's too big and too busy to search it completely...” He rubbed his stubble again, “At least they've never done it before...”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CAPE CORAL, FLORIDA : DEEP WEB

  Under the cover of darkness, Chase Holt made the trek out to the beleaguered Jet Ski hidden in the mangroves, where it had remained undisturbed and undiscovered so far. Using his knife, he'd punctured the aluminum tape repairs and let the Jet Ski sink into the shallow water, burying it almost completely with sand and bending the live mangroves over it. It would eventually become a permanent part of the mangrove stand if it remained undiscovered. At least that was the plan.

  The other part of the plan was getting off the island... quietly, without a lot of fuss. That required a boat or a plane. And since he had only a rudimentary knowledge of how to fly, acquiring a boat had become the new task at hand. Luckily there was a healthy selection around the island. He narrowed down the possibilities by size, availability, look and fuel consumption. Nothing too big, nothing too fast, nothing too flashy. He settled on a nice midsized sport cruiser docked behind a house with the keys hidden between the seats. The bonus was that it appeared the owners were one of the many part-time residents on the island and the house was dark.

  “Where are you?” came Karen's whisper in his ear.

  Chase adjusted the volume on the walkie-talkie's earpiece and brought the mic to his mouth, “I'm heading back to the house, I'll be back in about ten minutes... is everything OK?”

  “It's fine. You've been gone quite awhile and I was getting worried.”

  “Everything's good...”

  “Find the one you want?”

  He took a moment to wave at a couple riding past on a golf cart with only one functioning headlight, its tires crunching softly on the crushed shell road as it passed. “Yep. Found a good one.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Chase plopped himself into a chair at the kitchen table in front of a plate of food, his German Shepherd, Allie, dancing around. “Any messages come through on the laptop?”

  Karen shook her head, “It hasn't made a peep.”

  “Damn,” he winced, disappointed. “C'mon Murphy, where the hell are you...?”

  Karen held up a bright yellow sundress on a hanger, “What do you think? I found it in the closet...”

  Chase looked up from his plate, “Wow... bright.”

  She held up another, a Hawaiian print in blazing neon colors, “Is this one better?”

  Chase's head recoiled like he'd been slapped, “Oh God no... We want to blend in... Nothing, um, quieter?”

  “There's a white one...”

  “OK, well, you need clothes... take the yellow and the white one I guess. Do they fit you?”

  “Yeah,” she smiled, “they fit pretty well.” She laid the dresses on an empty counter and sat down at the table to eat. “So how does this thing work with the messaging?” she asked, pointing her fork at the laptop sitting on the kitchen's center island.

  “Well,” he started, sucking the fettuccine off his fork, “the internet isn't just the internet...” he made a contemplative face, considering his words. “I guess the best way to explain it is, it has layers. The internet you know and see every day is one of those layers... it's referred to as the Surface Web. The general term for the net you don't see, is Deep Web. That generic term covers; DarkNET, BlackNET, SIPRNet, CRONOS, NSANET, JWICS and a bunch of others. Those are all specific names for different networks. Secure networks. Secret Networks... Some are government stuff you seriously don't want to mess with. But they're accessible with the same internet connection the average person has at home. The difference is, these layers are invisible... unless you know how to reach them. They're the basement, sub basement, catacombs and dungeons...”

  “If they're secret,” interrupted Karen, “how do you know about them?”

  Chase pointed at his plate of fettuccine, “Mmm, this is very good, by the way...” He twirled his fork to collect some of the noodles. “People are aware of the existence of the Deep Web like they are aware of a bad neighborhood. It's dark and intimidating and most people would rather not go there or even acknowledge that it exists. There's no real attraction; its sinister undertones and hidden, encrypted gateways are usually enough to deter the casual tourist.”

  Karen frowned as she fought with the fettuccine that kept sliding off her fork. “So what's the reason people go there?”

  “DarkNET and BlackNET are for the most part anonymous, as long as you have the proper software to prevent tracing and invasion. The normal search engines on the Surface Web can't reach below to the other levels, so knowledgeable people, like me, use it for its privacy and greater freedom. You can find pretty much anything you want there; hackers, scammers, black market deals, weapons sales, drugs, gambling, information trading, spies, mercenaries, terrorists...”

  “Good Lord... So how do you find someone?”

  “Secure chat boards, prearranged meetings, codes. There's a bunch of different ways. I left a code on a board we use and I have to wait until he sees it and responds.”

  Karen sipped her soda, “What if he doesn't respond?”

  Chase's face turned solemn, “It means he may be incapable of answering for some reason... or dead.” He didn't like thinking it, much less saying it.

  Karen stared uncomfortably at her plate, “If he's not... um, y'know, how long should it take?”

  Chase shrugged, “Hours, days, weeks... it depends on his access. If he's hiding someplace remote, he may have no access.” He pushed away from the table and stretched his arms above his head, “As soon as we're done we'll clean up and ge
t some sleep, we're getting up before dawn. I want to clear this island before light breaks...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Karen walked sleepily alongside Chase, their footfalls soft on the packed crushed seashell drive. “I'll have you know, I'm not exactly my best at five in the morning...”

  Chase adjusted the straps on his backpack as they walked, hefting it to sit more comfortably. “It's OK, you can nap on the boat once we get under way.”

  “You say that like I actually have a choice,” she mused. “So what's the plan?”

  “Try not to get caught, try not to us get killed...”

  “A simple plan with admirable goals...” she sassed.

  “I'm glad you like it, I thought of it all by myself.” Chase snapped his fingers to get Allie's attention as they neared the driveway of the house with the sport cruiser. She trotted silently to his side, abandoning her exploration. Mid-stride, Chase stopped dead in his tracks at the mouth of the palm tree-lined driveway, a golf cart with one broken headlight sitting in front of the house. “Son of a bitch,” he breathed, unconsciously dropping into a crouch, “that's the one I passed last night on my way back. I was sure this house was empty... Dammit.” He scanned the area carefully.

  “What do we do?” whispered Karen.

  He looked up at the sky, changing subtly from star-studded black to deep blue. “We don't have a choice,” he hissed, “we have to go for it.” He grabbed her by her hand, “Low, fast and quiet, we don't stop for anything. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Making a beeline to the back of the house where the boat was docked, they cut through the landscaping; weaving their way through palm trees and flower beds, motion activated landscape lights clicking on along the way, marking their progress. “Shit,” growled Chase. He was doing his best to keep a good pace without dragging Karen to the ground but she was not used to running with a heavy pack. Running crouched, she lost her footing in the soft soil of a flowerbed and crashed to her knees with a grunt. Chase slid to a stop and doubled back, hoisting her to her feet with one hand under her arm. “C'mon, up you go... No stopping to rest.”