Wings of Steele: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “Oh my...”

  “Yes Amy, startling isn't it? You can see wings, a cockpit...”

  “The tails appear to be upside down...”

  “Yes John, that's one of the first things we noticed too,” continued the pilot. “Inverted twin tails. As you can see, we were able to get within less than a hundred feet from the craft and made eye contact with the flight crew inside...”

  “Weren't you afraid, Tom?”

  “Indeed we were, Amy, my heart was really pumping. From here our cameraman gets a shot of the scene below, the fire trucks putting water on the blaze, but we really wanted to concentrate on this unusual craft. As you can see it doesn't seem to have any means of staying aloft, no rotors no VTOL jets, just this unusual blue glow underneath...”

  “It looks like it's turning now, Tom.”

  “Yes it is Amy, it rotates around and starts to leave the scene. We keep up with it a bit here...”

  “How fast were you going?”

  “Our Bell 407, will do just about 150mph and that's what we're doing right at this point when it appears the pilot waves at us and it starts to pull away... then it does this...”

  Amy Halloran jumped in her seat, “Oh my! It just disappears! Do you have any idea how fast it was going?”

  “Faster than anything we've got, Amy...” The video feed of the event dropped back to the shot of the news anchors at their desk.

  “Thank you Tom,” the news anchor nodded, “some amazing footage you got for us there... scary stuff indeed.” John Griff switched his view to a different camera. “In an astounding coincidence of similar news, the BBC had this to say about events in London late last night...” the video switched to a view of a BBC news feed.

  “I'm Terrance Watershaum, and this is the … BBC. Londoners experienced brief rolling blackouts last night across large portions of the city. Since we are just entering summer, it begs the question, is this the new normal? Are these the power shortages we were promised coming early? How truly bad is our power grid? These and many other questions remain unanswered. Hopefully the mayor's reward for a plan to produce fresh new technologies will reward us with some answers to this looming problem.” He turned to another camera. “In other news, amateur video footage taken last night shows two unidentified flying vehicles taking off from Vauxhall Park at approximately 2am. Witnesses report hearing little to no sound, but a strange blue glow was visible underneath both of the craft. In a strange coincidence, a blackout seemed to accompany the appearance of the two craft. The BBC is still awaiting confirmation from local police on what type of craft this might be. Could these strange craft and the blackouts be connected? This reporter remains dubious at best...”

  The BBC video feed cut back to the Channel 4 newscast, John Griff paging to a new note appearing on his digital prompter, “This just in, in reference to the events on Chicago's northwest side; an unnamed source in the Chicago Police Department said, off the record; That at great risk to their own safety, the police intervened, stopping a vicious attack against Admiral Jack Steele, envoy and commander of the United Federation of Worlds, Task Force Lancer.” He looked at his co-anchor, his face an unspoken question mark. “What do you think that means, Amy?”

  “John, I think that means we'll be interrupting local programming throughout the day with up to the minute information as we get it...”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Fuck me!” Agent Doug Mooreland jumped up off the sofa in astonishment, prompting the other members of his team to come running from all corners of The Barn.

  “What the hell, Doug?”

  Mooreland pointed at the screen, “Our friend Steele is back...!

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I just saw...”

  “Wait; hold on,” interrupted Mercedes Huang, grabbing up the remote and turning up the sound, “What's he saying now..?”

  Channel 4's anchorman John Griff continued his report, “In other news; our viewers in Nevada and Utah who may be accustomed to seeing green lights in the sky, may not be seeing them for a while, as NASA was handed a stunning setback of their Astral Body Defense System development. Designed to protect the planet against space junk and the possibility of dangerous asteroids hitting our planet, two of their units were damaged during testing. Details have not been released and foul play is not suspected, though this amateur video we've obtained from a viewer in Utah, clearly shows a beam of an intense pink light...”

  “I do believe that is magenta, John.”

  “Thank you, Amy...”

  Agent Huang thumbed the remote's mute button. “Two of Zenith's systems were damaged in testing? That's not possible!”

  “Why is it not possible?

  Because, Lou, Zenith is fully operational,” she replied. “And they operate completely independent from one another. If they've been damaged, it was not an accident. That pink beam cannot be produced by Zenith, only green. Which leaves one alternative, they were shooting at something... and it shot back.”

  “Holy shit...” breathed Doug Mooreland, pacing. “We need to move fast...”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Fort Myers Beach. Steele's. First we need info; Lou, find out who got butchered in Chicago. Huang, find out what Zenith was targeting before they got their asses handed to them. Gene, get me more info on the London sighting, Steele can't have been two places at once.” He clapped his hands, “Let's go people! The rest of you, get the gear ready and the trucks loaded...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Dr. Michelle Fabry's eyes widened as she watched the Channel 4, Special News Bulletin while she readied herself for work, pouring her morning coffee into her travel mug. Nearly jumping out of her skin when the phone rang, she sloshed coffee across the counter. “Dammit...” The paper towel roll spun out of control, dumping twice what she needed and she didn't bother tearing it off, throwing the wad on the spill before reaching for the phone. “Hello?”

  “Are you watching this?”

  “The Channel 4 thing?”

  “Yeah,” replied David. “Now that is a UFO...”

  Conscious of who might be listening she didn't confirm or deny what she saw. “I'm going to be late if I don't finish getting ready, David. I'll see you at work...”

  “Got it.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Running to the bathroom in obvious discomfort, the intelligence officer from NIOC left his coffee on the table in the employees' break room of Green Bank Observatory, leaving Michelle Fabry's team alone to chat unfettered. Dr. Fabry looked over at Katie standing at the sink, who had an accomplished little smirk on her face. “Katie... what did you do?”

  She held up a little bottle of eye drops, sliding it back into her pocket, “A couple drops in his coffee. I saw it in a movie... I guess it really works!”

  Michelle cracked a smile, “Something tells me you enjoyed that a little too much.”

  “He had it coming...”

  Minus the mapping data on Harding-Konos 452, overnight Sean had uploaded everything they had on the UFO sighting from the rescued thumb drive to the Deep Web, sending out invitations and links to every observatory in the English-speaking world as well as NASA, SETI, media outlets and web news outlets. Scrubbed of digital notations, no one would know the source, so whether it would be viewed as serious or not was anyone's guess but it was pretty convincing. This morning's news of multiple close-up sightings, whether they were connected or not, lent a lot of credibility to it. What they hoped to accomplish was beyond credit or discovery, it seemed the right thing to do, something that people needed to see and be aware of.

  The intelligence officer from NIOC wobbled back into the break room looking a little pale, all conversation stopping, not that he'd notice at this point. As he reached for the coffee he'd left on the table his stomach roiled and he turned, quickly heading back to the restroom with a groan.

  “I almost feel bad for him,” commented Michelle, catching Katie's eye. “Almost.” Katie giggled, something that s
ounded innocently cherubic yet sinister somehow, and headed for the front office to prepare for the day's facility tours.

  David checked the corridor to the restrooms, “What do we do if we catch something today, Mitch?” he whispered.

  Dr. Fabry took a bite of her doughnut, “If the babysitter is around, nothing we can do but follow their protocol. If he's still... under the weather, record it on the thumb drives, keep it off the system...”

  ■ ■ ■

  The intelligence officer from NIOC was still asleep on the couch in Michelle Fabry's office when David spotted one of the ships in synchronous orbit over southern North America. “Mitch...”

  “I see it.” From the next console she glanced over her shoulder up at the second level, her office door still closed as were the curtains. “Go off-system.” She eyed the readouts of data, “I only see one...”

  “That's all there is,” whispered Sean.

  “The others have to be somewhere... keep scanning.”

  “It's beautiful, isn't it?” observed Samantha, staring at the screen.

  “Something sinister about it though,” commented Sean.

  “My God,” breathed Michelle, “I'd give anything to see it up close.”

  “I was thinking about that news clip,” began David, “What do you suppose they meant about the whole; United Federation of Worlds part? Do you think that thing in Chicago's linked with this?”

  “I wish I knew for sure, but it seems like too much of a coincidence not to be.”

  “Maybe we should send it a signal.”

  Michelle gave David a sideways look, unsure if he was serious or not. “NIOC?” she reminded him, knowing they would detect any communications.

  ■ ■ ■

  For Chase Holt and Dan Murphy, stopping at the rendezvous point and waiting in the blazing Nevada sun all day until Jesse arrived later the next evening to pick them up was not an option. Especially when DOE Security teams were hunting for them. They rode all the way back to the motel, staying off the roads, getting back just before dawn. Exhausted, they slept most of the day away, waking up briefly to eat, review their files and deal with damaged equipment and injuries.

  Most of it was a blur. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, Chase limped from the motel cabin to the motor home, his cactus assaulted leg salved and bandaged, the smell of bacon wafting in the dry desert air causing his stomach to rumble. He hoped it was for their breakfast not just from the restaurant, that would be a cruel tease. Allie and DOG were smart enough to stay in the air conditioning, unwilling to traverse the short distance to the RV even for the promise of bacon.

  Chase slid into the dinette next to Dan but the baseball-sized bruise in the middle of his back prevented him from leaning against the seat comfortably.

  “How's your leg?” asked Rain, pouring Chase and Dan coffee.

  “It stopped burning, thanks. What was that stuff you put on it?”

  “Something my grandmama taught me. You probably don't want to know what's in it.”

  Chase blew the steam off his coffee, “That's OK, I'm good not knowing what's in it.” He took a cautious sip, “Where's Jesse?”

  “He went to get fuel for the bikes,” said Kathy, loading two plates with steaming eggs, bacon and hash browns. “How's your back?”

  “Still sore. Like I got hit with a hammer. Did you get everything uploaded last night?”

  “Yep, just like you showed me,” she replied, sliding the plates across the table.

  Chase dribbled some Tabasco sauce on his eggs, “Good girl.” He took an entire strip of bacon and crammed it into his mouth, “I hope Jesse's not getting gas thinking we're going back out there again...”

  Dan peppered his eggs, “I wanted to see if we could view the damage from that explosion...”

  Chase shot him a what the fuck look ,“Oh, hell no!” he objected. “We go out there again we'll either get caught or get dead. Their security is going to double if not triple after what we saw. And you can bet they're going to have a major attitude after missing us the first time. They'll be shooting first, asking questions later.” Dan didn't respond, simply taking it in, eating silently without looking up. Rain watched him closely. “Look Dan,” said Chase, “I know you think you've got a score to settle for Caroline, but use your head, man...” he pointed a strip of bacon at Rain, “you've got this lovely woman here who obviously cares about you, are you ready to abandon her?”

  Surprising everyone, Jesse stuck his head through the RV's door chattering like a chipmunk, “Are you guys listening to the news? Are you listening? You should be listening...” He backed out momentarily, looking up at the RV's roof. “Antenna's up, turn on the TV! Turn on the TV! It was all over the radio, people were even talking about it at the gas station...”

  ■ ■ ■

  At TESS's insistence, Jack rolled his legs off the couch in his once familiar living room and sat up, his face in his hands rubbing his eyes. After living on ship for over two years the space seemed large, as personal spaces go. The fact that the cargo shuttle had come down in the middle of the night, the crew clearing out most of his personal effects made it seem even larger. The yellow tape and IRS property confiscation notice that was plastered across the front door lay crumpled on the floor where he'd tossed it. The government claiming something that wasn't theirs. Go figure. Where did it end..? Using the laptop from his zombie survival room and a wifi signal from a neighbor's house he watched hours of news video on the internet, hoping to understand the state of current affairs. He was to say the least, more than a little concerned. In some cases, horrified.

  It made him sad and angry that he would likely never come back here again; to a place he built and loved. A place he'd called home. A country, his country, that seemed to be turning its back on its citizens, terrorism running rampant unchecked by a leadership that failed to lead, a world sliding into anarchy and turmoil. How would it end? Did it have to slide into oblivion or could it be turned around? If it could recover before a collapse, what would it take? Pictures of Veloria's capital city in ruins ran through his mind, seeing the same thing for Chicago, New York and Los Angeles... played out worldwide. Would a nudge into the 25th Century make a difference? He might be able to help with that...

  Lisa wandered out of the guest room, “You awake?”

  “Yeah, I'm in here,” he called.

  “Did you sleep out here?”

  He shrugged, “Just felt right.”

  “So what's on the agenda this morning?”

  “I need to take a ride over to Chase Holt's house, see if he's heard from mom and dad. I can't believe they just up and disappeared. Unless...”

  “Unless what?”

  He shook his head, “Nothing...”

  She cut him off as he headed for the garage, “Don't nothing me,” she shook her finger at him, “what are you thinking?”

  Jack reached for the door to the garage,“Maybe they had help...”

  “I feel an or, or a but in there somewhere.”

  “Maybe they had help because they needed it, or, maybe it wasn't their decision.” He swung the door open, stepping into the garage, shafts of light streaming though the line of glass block in the east wall. Grabbing a corner of the cloth tarp that covered the entire car he began dragging it off of the Shelby Cobra roadster he'd built what seemed a lifetime ago.

  “You're going to take that? Way to blend in, Jack. Why don't you take my SUV?”

  “Beeecause, I want something with enough power to get out of its own way?” He tugged hard, the tarp sliding off the glassy blue body into a heap on the floor, the pearl white rally stripes gleaming in the muted light. Connected to the zombie room's solar power system, he lifted the fiberglass hood and plucked the charger clips from the battery and hung them on a wall hook. He eased the hood down and turned the latches, locking it in place. Without power to the whole house, they rolled the aluminum overhead door up manually. “Don't be wandering around, stay in the house...”

  Rumblin
g with a naturally lumpy idle, the 427 Cobra rolled back down the driveway into the street, the side pipes burbling, Steele checking the five point harness before shifting into gear. Lisa pulled the strap on the garage door, giving her brother a final nod before rolling it down till it bounced on the concrete.

  He let the clutch out a little too fast and the tires hopped with a chatter as the rear end swung around. Feathering the clutch to settle her down, he smiled to himself, she sounded happy to be awake. He was going to have to shake off the rust or she was going to run away from him. The familiar and welcome sensation of the street, feeling it through the roadster, spoke to him.

  Traffic on Estero Boulevard, the main beach drive, was light and he swung the Cobra left from the side street without much of a pause, producing a happy little fishtail, heading toward the San Carlos bridge, garnering a few dirty looks. The hefty V8 cleared its throat, singing its sweet big-block harmony as he shifted gears...

  ■ ■ ■

  Agent Doug Mooreland turned around in the passenger seat of the lead SUV, as it whistled down the interstate, two others following behind in close convoy. “Talk to me, Huang, what did you find?”

  Sitting behind him, Agent Mercedes Huang flipped open her lapbook, “This is what Zenith was shooting at, in synchronous orbit over the southwest United States...” she turned the lapbook around for him to see the picture of a space ship against a star studded sky, the moon peeking from behind it. “This is the view from Zenith at Area 51. No idea who approved the shoot order, but the report I managed to access said the first shot was a direct hit with no apparent effect. During Zenith's recharge the target returned fire. Zenith at Dugway never reached full charge before it was hit. Both units are completely destroyed.”

  “Jesus...” Doug took it and examined it, some of the color leaving his face, a flashback of the ship on Fort Myers Beach running through his head like a newsreel; the exact place they were heading now. He handed it back without speaking, his chest tightening.