■ ■ ■
Sitting around the table in Boney's kitchen, Alité sipped on a glass of his famous spiced wine, letting it warm her. “I can't stop shaking.”
“Adrenalin will do that,” said Jack before sipping.
“I never killed anyone b-b-before,” she stammered, sipping.
Steele raised an eyebrow, “Hmm, well, the first one's the hardest, it gets easier.”
“That's not comforting,” she retorted.
“Sorry. But woman, you scared the crap outta me today...”
“Scared the crap out of myself.”
“It's like I didn't even recognize you,” said Jack. “Who was that out there?”
Alité shook her head, “I don't know. It just came over me... I knew what I was doing, but it was like someone was directing me and I was watching it from outside myself.”
Jack smirked, knowing the tricks that the mind played with memory and how it recorded events, often playing them back at odd angles, out of order and with strange details. “That's just the way you're remembering it now. Later, things will fall back into place and it will be less surreal. It takes time for the brain to categorize and file all the video it recorded.”
“I can't believe I actually knew what he was thinking... I could see his nerves moving his muscles, like I knew what he was going to do the instant he decided to do it...”
“The body gives off cues before it does something,” said Jack. “Usually the eyes will telegraph some kind of decision. But not always, sometimes it's a small muscle twitch somewhere... If you're really in tune, your instincts will pick that up.”
She sipped, her hands steadying. “I don't remember that.”
“Do you remember your movements?”
She stared into her glass for a moment, the color of the wine resembling the blood. “Sort of. Little bits and pieces of it.”
Steele nodded, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “It was absolutely amazing. Smooth, graceful - like ballet. And lightning fast.” He put his hand on hers across the table. “I'm proud of you, what you did was very brave.” He thought for a second. “Crazy, but brave.”
“Because I took a man's life...?”
“No, Princess. Because you saved hundreds of lives... And thought nothing of risking your own to do it. That's what it's like to be a true leader.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
VELORIA : SHEEPDOGS AND WOLVES
There is a very real and accepted theory, that society as a whole, is broken down into three basic categories - sheep, commonly referred to as sheeple, sheepdogs, and wolves. All mankind, no matter where you were born, how you were raised or how you were educated, have the very distinct capacity for violence, finding yourself in the proper time, place, and situation. However, most people do not have it in their hearts to purposefully hurt one another except by accident or extreme provocation. Instead, preferring to live out their lives in peaceful coexistence with one another as healthy, productive citizens of their worlds, semi-oblivious to what goes on around them. Most sheeple prefer to live in a state of denial, certain that evil and violence does not exist. At least not in their little corner of the universe. It allows them to go about their daily lives without the burden of concern.
Enter the wolf. A predator. Hiding a dark heart and a propensity for violence. The wolf moves among the sheeple, blending in when he can, preying on them, picking out the choice targets of opportunity, taking advantage of the sheeples' blinding sense of false security created by their veil of denial. Only upon encountering the wolf does the sheeple then realize it's too late. If he had only thought ahead, prepared for the worst... but that is just not in the sheeple's core makeup.
To the sheeple, the sheepdog often resembles the wolf... he has long, sharp teeth; he has a heightened sense of aggression and an acute ability for violence and destruction. The sheeple don't always make the distinction between the two because all they see is the potential for violence. But the sheepdog has a love for the sheeple; he would never intentionally hurt them. The sheepdog has a warrior's heart and his self-imposed task is to see the sheeple safe from harm, happily productive. That is his reward. He lives for the day when he can use his gift of aggression and acute sense of awareness to prevent a wolf from completing its hunt and hurting the innocent and unwitting sheeple under his protection. This is his only other reward, the satisfaction of a job well done, a mission accomplished. He doesn't do it for fame, money, recognition, or appreciation - these are rare commodities in his world. The congratulations he receives are only found in the sheepdog's inner circles, reinforcing their own.
Quite often, the sheeple resent the presence of the sheepdog, as he is a reminder that there is evil in their little corner of the universe. Luckily for the sheeple there are as many or more sheepdogs living simple lives among them as there are uniformed ones, thus allowing them to blend into the sheeple's society without their knowledge. Sometimes these sheepdogs are the most dangerous to the wolf as he cannot predict their presence, level of intervention, number, or tenacity.
The sheepdog, the warrior, is not morally superior to the sheeple, but he does have one major advantage... he is able to survive in an event or environment that would decimate the rest of the population. While complex family and socioeconomic circumstances have something to do with what category a person ends up in, it is possible to cross over to another category... and pressing circumstances will have a lot to do with that. A decision between victim or victor, good or evil, life or death. Suffice it to say, some are born a sheepdog, others may accept the proverbial chalice if it is thrust upon them.
Such was the awakening the Princess was discovering. She had become a sheepdog... and a mighty fierce one at that. Through reflection and introspection she was examining her past and looking for the early signs that she had let slip by unnoticed, searching for that elusive event to tell her when that transformation had taken place. She was sitting on the grass with her back against a tree next to Boney's family barn, wiping and oiling the blade of her sword which lay across her legs.
Boney dropped to a knee beside her. “You doing OK? You were pretty quiet through dinner...”
Alité looked up and smiled at him, “I'm OK. Just thinking, I guess...” She wanted to change the subject. “Willamena did a wonderful job on dinner, Boney. It was delicious.”
“You know how she loves to cook,” he smiled in return, watching her blade maintenance, trying to decide how to broach the next subject. He realized there was no easing in. “I don't know if you've considered it, but I think you'd make a good Queen...” She stopped mid wipe and looked up, locking eyes with him without speaking. “This planet needs a new leader,” he continued, “and I think you proved today you have a command presence.”
She pursed her lips, frowned, and went back to her task. “No.”
“But...”
“No.” She looked back up as she sheathed the shining sword in its scabbard by feel. “You do it.”
“Me? I'm not royalty...”
She stood up and slung the sword in its scabbard over her shoulder. “Neither am I... technically. I'm the great, great, great granddaughter of a governor who proclaimed himself King of Veloria. He was a fraud. My family was a fraud. That doesn't make me a real Princess...”
“Sure it does,” countered Boney. “Look, a royal family has to start somewhere. Someone conquers or creates it, later, others are born into it.”
“Mmm, well that doesn't make me feel any better about it.”
“You don't get to choose your parents or lineage, my dear.”
Alité picked her helmet and carbine up off the grass. “I still think you'd make a better leader...”
“How so?”
“You know our history, what went wrong, what worked when things went well. You're much more experienced than I am. I would have no idea how to run a government.”
They started walking toward the Invader sitting on the road, the sky turning to dusk. “That's wha
t you have advisers for,” said Boney.
“Sure, because that worked out so well for mummy and daddy...” she quipped.
“Point taken. But it's your rightful place.”
“What if I don't want it? What if I'd rather just have someone do it for me? Someone I trust.”
Boney wasn't sure he liked where this was going. “Well then I suppose it's also your right to appoint someone...”
“Then I appoint you,” she grinned.
Now he knew he didn't like where it was going. “But I was really beginning to enjoy my retirement,” he groaned.
Alité giggled, “Retirement? You have a huge farm with crops, animals, buildings and equipment to maintain. That is not what retirement looks like. That is a second career.”
■ ■ ■
The Invader lifted off cleanly as the last glow of the sun disappeared in the sky, the stars appearing as darkness deepened. The Marines stayed behind, securing Boney's farm while Jack and Alité returned to the Air and Space Port to see what Foxtrot had found in the subterranean base.
“Boney thinks I should be the new Queen...”
Steele looked over at his wife in the dimly lit interior of the Invader. “Yeah, I thought that might come up at some point.” He inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly, pensively. “What are your thoughts on that?” His stomach knotted.
She was painfully quiet for a moment. “I am torn between helping my people and, well, my life with you...” She had her helmet in her lap and thumbed the scratches in its surface from when she dropped it off the wall at the palace. “I am their Queen... it's not something I have a choice in. I want to be able to guide them, help them to rebuild our cities and society...”
Steele had to clear his throat before speaking, his chest tightening. “How would you do that?”
She put her hand on his, tears in her eyes. “I don't think I can. When I left Veloria, I was supposed to be going to business college, well I didn't make it, you know that. When I disappeared and never came back, mummy and daddy must have sent Dakkah and Mozzy to college.” She shifted in her seat. “And they're gone now too. I don't have the ability to fix my home,” she sighed. “And after seeing how badly a monarchy failed the people, I have to think maybe a different type of government is needed - and I know nothing about government.”
“So, you'll go to college, then?” Jack was painfully trying to be supportive and he was having a hard time swallowing.
She squeezed his hand. “No. Veloria needs a government now, not years from now. I will be their Queen... but I will not govern them. That I think, will be Boney's job.”
“Huh?” For Jack's sense of what was going on, that was totally out of left field.
“He is a very knowledgeable, trustworthy, honest and and upright man. He knows our people and our history, and he knows business. I will appoint him Prime Minister of Veloria. He will appoint one Chief Magistrate from each of our three continents, and one Senator from each of Veloria's eighteen regions. Together, they will govern with the input of the people. In five years there will be an election and the people can decide who they want to fill the positions.”
Jack's eyes were burning and he was glad the interior was as dark as it was. “What will you be doing as Queen..?”
Alité looked down and wiped invisible dust off her helmet with her free hand. “Providing them a vision of what I expect for the people and the future of our planet.” She squeezed his hand and looked over at him. “Which means we will need to come back here from time to time, and we will need to convince the UFW to provide better protection...”
His heart skipped a beat, “Wait, from time to time? What d'you mean?”
She sighed and spoke slowly like she was explaining it to a child. “It means, my dear, we will need to visit here on a semi-regular basis, so I might meet in person with my government and view our progress.”
“So you're not staying here, then...” It was more a statement than a question.
“No, of course not.” She put her hand on his face, “You do remember standing in the pile of rubble that used to be where I lived, right?”
“Yeah...” he said slowly.
“Well, did you see any place there that I could stay even if I wanted to...?”
“Umm, no. But...”
“You're beginning to worry me, husband. For a smart man, you're being a little slow,” she smiled.
“Forgive me, madam,” he replied, “It's been a long, trying day, and I've just found out my wife the Princess, is the Queen of an entire planet...” He leaned against the seat back for the first time and exhaled fully, drawing a long, relaxing breath.
She leaned against him, “Besides, who would keep you out of trouble if I wasn't around?” she said quietly. Truthfully, in her heart, she felt she would die without him.
“That's twice today,” he whispered.
“Twice what?”
“Twice today that you scared the crap outta me. You're gonna have to quit that, my heart can't take it.”
She patted the armor on his chest, “Don't worry, I'll protect you, I'm a watchdog now.”
“Sheepdog.”
“Yes, right,” she nodded, “one of those.”
■ ■ ■
Passing the control tower, landing pads and main terminal, Brian angled across the facility and landed the Invader near the entrance to the subterranean facility. It was an unassuming looking, flat concrete building between the two largest hangars on the port.
Lieutenant Zorvano was waiting for them outside the adjacent hangar to the right when they landed. The building's giant door was rolled open about a quarter of the way. Tusker stayed in the Invader, but Brian and Alité accompanied Steele.
“Whadya got for me Lieutenant?”
“A couple things, Captain. We got a report from the Task Force on the cause of that last storm that steamrolled through here.” They followed the Lieutenant into the building's open door, the overhead lights glowing brightly on the two-hundred-eighty-four foot long, black, Halceón Class research ship. “Which adds a whole bunch of new questions to this little beauty.”
Jack squinted, his eyes still adjusting from the darkness outside. “Holy crap, she looks brand new.” His eyes searched the hull for markings. There were none. “She was just sitting in here?”
“No, sir. She was in the subterranean hangar below it. The section of the floor she is sitting on,” he pointed at the seam and dotted yellow lines on the floor, “is an elevator. It took about thirty minutes to get her up from below...”
“She's armed,” said Brian eyeing the forward gun batteries, “is she military?”
“Research,” countered Zorvano. “We've spent all day searching for information on her... She's a ghost ship. There's no crew of record, no captain of record, she has no registered name or number. We did find who owned her though, McSuddeth Mining. She's been here a little over two months.”
“Hmm.” Jack's mind was racing. “And you said the Task Force had a cause on that crazy storm system?”
The Lieutenant nodded. “Yes, sir. Astrometrics and meteorology were interested in seeing if they could find what caused it, and if they could predict future events. They were replaying and reviewing their sensor recordings and found the birth of the storm system, which revealed a GOD Drive initiation, in atmosphere, at about two-thousand feet. I've never heard of that, but they said you would know what it means.”
Jack and Brian shot each other a look, “Pirates!” they said in unison.
■ ■ ■
The puzzle pieces began falling into place, but the picture wasn't quite clear yet. Since all the administrative records, and pretty much records of any kind on Veloria, had been lost or destroyed during the revolution, no one knew where the mining settlement was supposed to be, who owned it, what the terms were, or what exactly they were mining for. Somewhere on the third continent was all they knew. And there was no indication to the disposition of the crew of the Halceón Class research ship. What th
ey did find out, via research from the Task Force, was that there were no records of McSuddeth Mining in existence anywhere. Maybe she truly was a ghost ship.
As far as Steele's experience was concerned, anyone who goes to those extremes to hide their identity or become invisible is usually up to no good. Or government spies. OK, up to no good fits that too.
Morning had brought with it light clouds and an incessant drizzle, but that could not dampen Jack's mood. After all, they had a nice new ship with a clean record and no owner. Finders keepers.
Brian had flown Alité back over to Boney's for a meeting with the Mayor of Capitol City and several of his surviving staff, in an effort to plan the beginning of organized recovery efforts. The short wave radio operators were busy communicating back and forth across the continent to follow through as best they could with Queen Alité's orders to inform the citizens of the emerging new government. Getting messages across the ocean to the other continents would be problematic until more sophisticated equipment could be restored or rebuilt. But they had to start somewhere and Capital City seemed the logical starting point.
Queen Alité. That was going to take some getting used to.
The Freedom had informed Jack that the UFW convoy carrying the Army Engineers, their equipment and supplies, was in-system and due in orbit by the next morning. He was looking forward to seeing his sister.
“You ready?” asked Brian, strolling up behind him.
“That was fast.”
“Fast ship, short trip. Hey that rhymes...” he joked.
“Was everyone there?” asked Jack.
“Yes. And she'll be fine...” Brian cuffed his friend on the shoulder, “She's got an entire detachment of Marines guarding her.”
“Yeah, I know... I'm married to a Queen...” He ran his fingers through his hair in dismay, “How did this happen?”
Brian laughed, “I don't know how you do it buddy, but it could only happen to you.” He pointed to the long black ship sitting under the lights across the hangar, “So what are we going to call her?”
Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) Page 32
