Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  She shoved the throttle forward, the engines roaring, two-hundred feet of flame trailing behind. From the far end of the runway, the Invader screamed past the tower, slowly gaining altitude, using almost all of its three mile length, clearing the highway by what seemed like feet, then actually flying as Maria applied more power, retracting the extra lift surfaces and shutting down the anti-gravity system. “Whew,” she sighed, “that was a little scary...”

  ■ ■ ■

  The ASP tower officer on duty saw it first, coming across the field of tall grass on the far side of the highway toward the facility, its lights illuminating the area ahead of it. “Tower to all sentries, we have a vehicle north of the highway, inbound...”

  “Copy tower, eyes on... One hover vehicle, looks like three civilian occupants...”

  The soldiers at the north gate illuminated the vehicle with a spotlight as it crossed the only cleared section of the highway, a choke point. As soon as the flood of light hit the old flat-bed skimmer, the driver slowed, coasting to a stop over the pavement, raising his hands above the windshield, as did the two passengers, to make it clear they were unarmed. Closely following the sentry's instructions to leave the vehicle and approach on foot, hands above their heads, they were admitted through the gate.

  ■ ■ ■

  Having stayed late at the Air and Space Port to keep abreast of the unfolding events, Boney was surprised to hear someone had asked to see him in person. He was immediately suspicious of their intentions. Who even knew he was there? But the soldier accompanying him down the corridor assured him the men were unarmed and that there would be soldiers outside the room should he need it. “They said you would need one of these,” said the Corporal, handing him a small piece of digital gadgetry. “I pulled it from our medical bay.”

  Boney raised his eyebrows, scrutinizing the small unit. “A scanner? For what?”

  “No idea,” said the soldier opening the door to the conference room for him.

  The three men rose from their seats at the table and briskly saluted him as the door closed behind him. “Prime Minister...”

  “Gentlemen, “ he said apprehensively, “what can I do for you?”

  They dropped their salute in unison and the man on the left spoke, extending his left arm, palm up. “If you please, sir,” he nodded at the scanner.

  Somewhat warily, Boney passed the unit over the man's forearm, the scanner chirping from the EFID chip, Electronic Forensic Identification, implanted in his arm. A full-color photo ID immediately appeared on the screen. Studying it briefly, he looked back up, having instantly recognized the emblem on the screen. “You're a Peacekeeper..?”

  The man stuck his hand out and they shook. “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Ean Marboul, 26th District...”

  Boney motioned to the other two, “Are you all...” They held out their arms and he scanned each in turn, both Peacekeeper Sergeants, one from the 26th District like the Lieutenant, the other from the 44th District. “Oh my...”

  The Peacekeepers were family men, forced underground during the fighting to protect their families who had become targets marked for harassment or assassination. There were many others like them, who knew all hope had been lost, who withdrew to preserve family and friends, shepherding small scattered groups. There were just as many that had gotten their families off-planet, staying behind to do what they could, now wondering what had become of their loved ones. For some of them it had been a year or more since they'd said goodbye. Were they safe? Hijacked? Sold into slavery? Since the loss of all communications, there was simply no way to know. The only thing they could do now was their job, waiting for the day when they could come out of hiding and rebuild their lives. The story of the Princess' appearance had spread quickly, and to the Peacekeepers, it appeared the day of retribution had arrived.

  “How many are in your network, Lieutenant?”

  “About two-hundred-fifty, Prime Minister. But we're connecting with more each day. And we may be able to bring new recruits. People that we trust, that have helped our families and our investigations.”

  “That's a far cry from, what, almost five-thousand on this continent?”

  “Yes, sir. But we do have a bit of an advantage that we didn't have before...”

  Boney cocked his head, “What's that?”

  “They don't know the Peacekeepers are still here.”

  The Prime Minister knew full well he was referring to the infiltrators still residing on the planet. “Do you know who they are?”

  Lieutenant Ean Marboul smiled darkly, “Yes, sir. And they have no idea they're being watched.”

  Boney pursed his lips, “How perfectly appropriate...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Mine 02 had been easy to find in the dark, the flood lights set up by the engineers to continue working through the night shining like a beacon in the blackness below. Finding a suitable landing zone however, proved a little more difficult. They settled on a stretch of road a couple miles away illuminated by the ship's twilight beacons. It was a little rougher than they had anticipated but it worked well enough. The terrain was level enough to use the anti-gravity system to coast back toward the mine over the rocky field, before setting down near the Army shuttle.

  The soldiers pitched in as the Marines began unloading medical supplies, food and water from the Invader, crammed from floor to ceiling in the stern of the craft.

  The soldier standing next to the command tent extended his hand to the approaching man dressed in Army fatigues with Space Service rank pips on his collar, “Sergeant Wellenir.”

  “Captain Steele,” replied Jack, shaking his hand.

  “Navy,” he nodded, “hey, you're the guy everybody was searching for...”

  “That's me,” admitted Jack, casually, “they found me...”

  “Right before the Volkens ate him for lunch,” commented Lisa sarcastically, walking past with an armload of supplies.

  The Sergeant shot her a glance before redirecting to Steele, “What's a Volken?”

  “I'll tell you later,” waved Jack. “So update me, how are we doing?”

  “Pretty good actually. We should have the entire mouth open by morning,” he pointed. “I think some of the equipment they buried might still be operational...”

  “What about the miners?”

  “We sent a hover-probe in, there's still more trapped farther in. There are a few unstable areas that need to be shored up before we can get to them. We need the mouth open and the equipment clear before we can do that.”

  “How many miners are there?” asked Jack. “Do we know?”

  Wellenir screwed his face in distaste, “About four-thousand..”

  “Holy crap,” muttered Steele. “How many are out so far?”

  “About nine-hundred. My corporal has been keeping a roster.”

  Jack looked around at the open tents, “That doesn't look like nine-hundred...”

  Wellenir shrugged in his armor, “Yeah, there's been a steady stream of families showing up, picking them up and going home.” He pointed to the left of the mine in the canyon, “See all those tents over there? Families waiting. They come and check whenever we pull a new group out. Probably won't be any more till after we finish the shoring job though.” He took off his helmet and scrubbed his short hair with his fingers. “We have to check the offices in the morning too; a couple guys mentioned there might be someone trapped up there...”

  Steele's jaw tightened. “I want to be included on that, understand? You don't go in without me...”

  “Sure thing, Captain, not a problem.” He popped his helmet back on his head, “Have you heard anything from our other shuttle, sir?”

  “We caught a message about ten minutes before we landed. Mine 01 was wired but had failed to detonate. It's completely open, equipment parked in the entrance like here. It was too dark for them to start, so they're going wait until daybreak.”

  “They've got floodlights just like us, why are they waiting?”

 
“The Lieutenant had some concerns about booby traps and he wants to proceed carefully, defusing everything before they enter...”

  “Lieutenant's a good engineer,” replied Wellenir, “he knows his stuff. His team will do it right.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Boney sat down at the table, motioning to the Peacekeepers to do the same. “Please, sit.” He motioned out the window of the conference room and a soldier opened the door, leaning in. “Corporal, would you mind bringing us some water, please?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister.”

  “Gentlemen,” began Boney, wiping some unseen dust off the table in front of him, “what if anything do you know about any illegal mines operating on this continent?”

  The three men glanced curiously at each other before the Lieutenant spoke. “There are none...”

  “Really...” muttered Boney, his eyes glazing over, staring off at the wall. “There is a fuel carrier that shows up at my farm...”

  “We know,” said the Sergeant from the 44th District.

  Bony refocused, “How do you know?”

  The Peacekeepers looked at each other again, the Lieutenant speaking, “Yanno...”

  “My son, Yanno?” Boney interrupted his eyes narrowing.

  “Yes, sir. Yanno Marconus is a Peacekeeper.” He watched the stunned Prime Minister lean back in his chair and gave him a moment to process that bit of information. “He's a Regional Detective that operated out of the 29th District. The 26th District was part of his region and I saw him in our station quite often... we've worked together on many occasions.”

  “Hellion, I never had any idea,” Boney said vacantly.

  “You're son is extremely good at what he does. He felt it was best you not know...”

  “My other son...?”

  “Is not a Peacekeeper.”

  “Oh thank the stars...”

  “But he does know that Yanno is.”

  Boney thumped his fist on the table, “For the love of the Ancients,” he groaned.

  “It was for your protection,” replied the Lieutenant stoically. “And since the appearance of the Princess... er, Queen” he corrected, “and your new position, we felt it prudent to improve your security detail...”

  Boney's eyes widened, “My security detail?”

  “Yes, sir. We realize the soldiers are skilled and efficient, but we decided an extra layer of protection would be most desirable. These are trying times, Prime Minister, and while I believe the worst is behind us, I don't for a moment believe it's over. There are twelve Peacekeepers in place near your farm. Your son is briefing the Army detail as we speak, so they are aware of our presence. We can also provide important local intelligence and communication.”

  Boney took a deep breath, slightly vexed, and leaned back against the chair, as the soldier returned, entering the room with a pitcher of water and a tray of glasses. The Prime Minister poured himself a glass as the man departed, waiting until the door was closed before continuing. “Speaking of communications, do you know if any Peacekeepers are left on the other continents?”

  “We've had no contact since the station fell...”replied one of the Sergeants pouring himself a glass of water. “I would expect so. But since we had the most densely populated territory, we also had the largest Peacekeeper force. The Keepers on the other territories may have been more easily overrun...”

  The room fell silent for a few moments before the Lieutenant picked the conversation back up. “There is no mine on this continent, but there is an abandoned depot about eight hours from here that the scabs are using for fuel and food storage. A transport would come at regular intervals to pick up or drop off, that's where the fuel was coming from.” He sipped his water. “It has been deserted for several days now; our men say there has been no movement of any materials in or out...”

  “And thanks to the UFW, there won't be...” stated Boney, dryly. “They've been run off the planet. Or in the case of the ones that showed up here, captured.”

  Lieutenant Marboul smiled crookedly. “Good riddance. I'll let our people know that we can take control of the facility; there are some significant stores there. We need to redistribute the food stuffs before they go bad.”

  “Is there anything you or your people need at this time?”

  “Well, we're spread pretty thin, so some extra drivers and protection for the transport trucks would be really helpful. We don't have enough people out in that area to cover the facility, load and move the trucks...”

  Boney nodded. “I'll speak to the Major and see what I can do. Currently there are two rescue teams out to recover stranded miners, so ultimately it will depend on his available manpower.”

  “I understand. At a bare minimum, ammunition. Most of us still have our service weapons, but well, with everything that happened...”

  “No need to explain,” interjected Boney. “Bring me a list of whatever else you might need and I'll do my best to get you whatever is available...”

  ■ ■ ■

  It was long ago when Steele developed the ability to sleep anytime, anywhere. As a cop with odd shift hours, called in on his time off with little sleep, staying late to process a crime scene, trading catnaps with your partner on a long stakeout, the scenarios were endless for creating weird sleep habits. You learned how to function sleep deprived. Catching rest whenever the time and place was available, comfortable or not, noise and distractions be damned. That talent was serving him well now as he lay on the floor of the Invader, in the now-empty stern, an emergency medical supply bag under his head.

  The steady rumble of the bulldozer's engine wove its way into his dream, becoming the sound of his Cobra's engine. The vibrations as it pounded across the ground, clearing the mine entrance, was the feel of the roadster on the winding road. The morning light playing through the Invader's view ports the afternoon sun passing between the palm trees alongside that road. When it all stopped, he had pulled the car over and gotten out to look at the view, inhaling deeply, enjoying the fresh air. His eyes flicked open and he stretched, his cast hitting the bulkhead with a resounding thunk. “Oww...”

  There was a twinge of disappointment in his heart to realize it was merely a dream. He looked back fondly on a simpler, less complicated life.

  Steele got to his feet and pushed it out of his mind, adjusting the shoulder holster he had never removed. The morning sun was making its way into a cloudless blue sky. The engineers were carrying materials and equipment into the mine to shore up a few areas to secure the safe rescue of the remaining miners. The heavy mine equipment looking battered and a little worse for its early burial, still appeared functional, sitting silently off to the side.

  Jack met Sergeant Wellenir near the mine's entrance and the soldier filled him in on the details of their progress. After the repairs to the shaft's ceiling supports, the engineers would run power to the mine and open the sections to recover the remaining miners. In the mean time, they were ready to check for survivors in the offices.

  There was nothing special about the offices, they looked totally old school, an open, steel-grate stairway going up two stories toward the short hallway, two rooms on either side. A few quick welds and the stairs were safe enough to use. Three of those rooms were open, their heavy wooden doors standing ajar. The fourth at the end was locked from the inside. The Marines positioned themselves around the door.

  Jack stood to one side of the door and knocked, motioning a Marine to move beyond the door jamb on the other side. “Hello? Anyone in there?” When the blaster shot blew through the wood door and splashed on the composite wall across the corridor, everyone jumped back. “Hey! What the hell?” barked Steele. “We're here to get you out, dumbass!” Another hole appeared in the door, particles of wood showering out into the hallway, the blaster shot blackening the wall on the other side. “This guy is really starting to tick me off,” he hissed. “Hey, shit for brains, we're UFW military. You really want to piss us off?”

  “Go away!” shouted Sy Setzel
. “This is my mine, you can't have it!”

  “Is this guy serious?” Steele pounded on the door. “Open it up and come out nicely, or...” Another hole appeared in the door, blackening the wall on the other side of the corridor. His jaw set, he ripped the hybrid 1911 out of the holster, sticking the muzzle through one of the holes in the door and squeezed off several rounds.

  Things on Sy Setzel's desk, exploded into pieces as he threw himself on the floor, the charged particle rounds destroying anything in their path. Dust and debris showered him and the clean carpet, kicking his neat-freak ADD behavior into overdrive. “Stop it! Stop it!” he screamed, flailing about. “You're ruining everything!” He immediately began crawling around on his hands and knees trying to pick up the scattered pieces of broken nick-knacks and assorted fragments of debris. “Timmian!” screamed the little man in frustration, “Timmian! Bring the cleaning unit!” He hardly noticed when the door exploded inward and a small, white and black striped orb rolled across the carpet...

  ■ ■ ■

  Still wide-eyed, dazed and partially deafened by the shock grenade, Sy Setzel wiggled at the end of Corporal Dunnom's grip on his collar. “Walk, asshole,” growled the Marine, “or I'm gonna toss you down those stairs.”

  “Thanks for not killing him,” said Steele, casually. “I'm hoping we can interrogate him and get more information on all of this. I want to find out who's at the top of this fucking hellhole...”

  While Dunnom's Marines searched the mine offices for information and useful intel, Jack and the Corporal escorted the wobbly Sy Setzel down the long flight of stairs to the mine entrance. The sounds of sawing, hammering, and men shouting, echoed in the cavernous area near the mouth of the mine, floating out of the darkness of the tunnels.

  “My office,” whined Sy, “my office, you've ruined my office...”

  “Shut up shithead,” snarled Steele. “You're lucky it wasn't a regular grenade, or your office would have been repainted with your guts...”