Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  Ragnaar shook his head, "I'll never understand a race that lets their women fight..." he said quietly. His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Strangely enough, Paul found the pirate genuinely likeable. "Well, it sure wasn't my idea..." he countered, smirking.

  Ragnaar laughed a laugh befitting his size. "Well," he said after gaining his composure, "you sure don't look like the demons of Hellion."

  Paul looked up at him. "Huh?"

  The pirate shook his head, "Oh, nothing, Commander." He smiled to himself about his private joke. He wished Deeter had been there to share it with him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  PRINCESS HEDONIST, LAN SYSTEM: ADRIFT

  The conflict on the landing pad ended rather suddenly, when Gantarro caught Kidd unawares as he tried to escape the crossfire on the pad. With the barrel of a laser shoved in his ear, Kidd had no choice but to order his crew to surrender. Basically, it was an inevitable outcome. But Gant's actions, which he refused to call heroic, prevented an extended conflict which would have easily doubled the number of casualties.

  Jack stood at the foot of the steps leading to the control tower, surrounded by wounded from both sides. Medical attendants, both mechanical and biological, attended to those wounded. "Stand still, Commander Steele..." said the medibot in a female voice.

  Jack fidgeted as she removed the shards of graphite composite from his forehead and wiped the blood from his face. "Geez, take it easy, will ya? That hurts!"

  "It will do more than just hurt if we don't get it all out," she urged. "Be still!" Holding his face firmly by his jaw, her optical pickup zoomed in to inspect the lacerations across his forehead for any remaining debris, as she dabbed away the blood. She was a short, boxy, automaton with two arms and fully digited hands, though she moved on rubber treads and not legs. Her extendable articulated neck supported her shiny oblong head. It contained a single optical sensor with zoom adjustable floodlight and multi-use surgical laser. "You are lucky, Commander, you have a rather hard cranium." She tapped the top of his head with a rubber padded metal digit, "Though I don't doubt you'll have a tremendous headache."

  Jack winced as she wrapped his head with a clean dressing, "Y'know, you need to work on your bedside manner..." he grumbled.

  The medibot paused, and with a glowing optical sensor, unblinkingly looked him in the eye. She tilted her head in introspect, "But you're not in a bed, Commander." After a moment, she returned her attention to his dressing.

  "What I meant was..." he abandoned the thought. "Oh, forget it," he mumbled.

  "Hey Jacko..." Derrik, still carrying his M1, strolled up from the tower office.

  Jack attempted to turn toward the approaching voice but forgot his head was still anchored by the medibot's grip. "Ow... Hey Derrik. Say, how's the professor doing?"

  "Lost his arm, but he'll live."

  "Christ," whispered Jack. "Man I'm really sorry, I didn't expect..."

  Derrik shook his head, "Forget it," he said, interrupting. "Uncle has. Call to duty, honor, stiff upper lip. Y'know, all that rot. As far as he's concerned, we won and that's all that counts."

  "Wow..." Jack couldn't help but admire that kind of intense, selfless dedication. "He sure is a tough old bird..."

  "Well, it helps to be a bit daft," added Derrik.

  Jack smiled weakly, "I suppose."

  "So, how's your bean, old boy?"

  Jack ran his hand around the newly finished bandage and gingerly touched his wrapped forehead. "I've got a major headache."

  "Undoubtedly." Derrik clapped Jack on the shoulder, "But you Yanks have good, hard heads."

  Jack smiled, "So I've been told."

  ■ ■ ■

  Brian strolled across the landing pad toward the tower with Fritz at his side, after organizing an armed security attachment to guard the swelling number of prisoners. Fritz trotted up to Jack and sat at his side searching for an approving hand. He found it. The pilot rubbed his ears. Jack knelt down and checked the dog again for injury. The crate that had exploded had tossed them both, leaving them momentarily senseless, but it appeared the Shepherd was completely unhurt. Jack glanced up as Brian approached. "Have either of you guys seen Pappy's group?"

  "No," said Derrik, slinging his carbine over his shoulder by its strap.

  "Not yet," said Brian, "Comm links are still down too."

  "Ok," nodded Jack. "Let's get a messenger up to them, have them bring everybody out here. Get `em some extra help if they need it. Let's see if we can get this mess all organized."

  "No problem, Skipper, it's already been done."

  "Super..." Jack rubbed his head, "anybody got an aspirin?"

  "No," countered Brian, "but I've got another headache for you. Gant says Kidd is requesting a meeting with the commander of our forces."

  "Aww geez," moaned Jack, "why doesn't he handle it?" Brian shrugged, saying nothing. "Ok," conceded Jack, throwing up his hands. "Whatever, just give me a few minutes." Brian agreed and disappeared to find Gant and the pirate Captain. Shedding his bloodied coveralls, Jack Steele adjusted his uniform and smoothed his tunic. His blood had seeped through the coveralls and stained his uniform. "Shit. Well, there goes another good shirt," he muttered to Fritz.

  ■ ■ ■

  The meeting took place on the landing pad away from the wounded and away from the prisoners. They stood in the shadow under the nose of the pirate cruiser, Jack, Derrik, Brian, Gant and the pirate, Kidd. Two armed security people stood off to one side, and Fritz sat at his master's left hand. Gant at his elbow, the pirate Captain stood arrogantly with his arms folded across his chest. He wore a red velvet coat, elaborately decorated with gold braid, resembling something from America's Colonial era. It was quite a contrast to his crew's motley attire and a true testament to his selfish and arrogant nature.

  Jack stood casually with his left hand resting on Fritz's head, gently scratching his ears. "What can I do for you, Mr. Kidd?"

  "First," said Kidd coolly, "you will show me the respect of my rank you will call me Captain. Second..."

  "First," interrupted Jack, smiling wryly, "you are in no position to demand anything. Second, you pompous windbag, you are the Captain of nothing. You're a dirt bag that's going to prison. That ship and everything in it, belongs to me..." He was watching the astonished expression on Kidd's face, but he caught the look of surprise in Gant's eyes as well. He had half expected the man to request fair treatment for his crew or something of that nature. Instead, the pirate aired some ridiculous personal demands. Jack found it easy to detest the man. "Now, sir," continued Steele, forcing professionalism, "if you have a reasonable request, make it. I am willing to listen. Otherwise, stop wasting my time."

  Joshua Kidd was indignant. These men wore uniforms, but to no cruise line or military agency he was familiar with. Yet they had enough cunning and combat training to lure him in, defeat him and capture his ship. He saw no way out and this infuriated him. "Who the HELLION are you people?"

  "Well, we're from Earth," said Jack, indicating himself, Derrik and Brian.

  "I can see that, you fool! So was my great grandfather!" The pirate collected himself and adjusted his coat. "I meant, what organization are you with? And by whose authority do you hold me and my ship?!"

  "No organization," said Jack calmly, "just ourselves... with a little help," he added, looking at Gant. "Technically, I guess you could call us mercenaries, bounty hunters... take your pick, one label fits as well as another. And as far as our authority, I'm sure there are more than several agencies happy to pay big bucks for your ass. You've been a bad boy, Joshua, murdering people, pirating, who knows what else."

  Kidd made no attempt to deny any of the allegations. "So," said the pirate snobbishly,
his hands on his hips, "you intend to turn us in to the highest bidder... Well! If it's money you want..."

  "No," interrupted Jack, growing angrier by the minute. "Our fee, is your ship. Nothing more."

  "My ship..." growled Kidd.

  "Don't worry," said Brian coolly, "we'll put it to good use. Besides, you won't need it where you're going."

  "It's MY SHIP!" Insisted the pirate.

  Fritz was watching the pirate's every move and was the first one to see the flash of silver in his hand, a foolish attempt at revenge. There was no telling where the pirate had kept the derringer-sized laser hidden, or how it had so suddenly appeared in his hand. But then again, to Fritz, it didn't matter. A gun was a gun and he would not allow any harm to come to Jack. Without hesitation or command, the Shepherd lunged with teeth bared at the pirate's arm. The searing, blue-white laser passed between Jack and Derrik as they jumped apart, more of reflex than anything else. It all occurred in such a blur, no one besides Fritz and Kidd, really knew what happened.

  Kidd was on his knees and grasping his throat with both hands. Blood ran through his fingers and dripped to the deck. Slow to take his eyes away, Jack turned to his left at Brian's insistence. Fritz lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Jack dropped to his knees and crawled to his partner, ignoring the wounded pirate. He carefully rolled the limp dog on his side to ease his breathing and was horrified by the sight. The laser had struck the right side of his face. Skin, bone and brain matter had been completely fused. "Oh God, oh God no... MEDIC!!" Grief stricken, Jack Steele cradled his best friend in his lap while the others stood helplessly by. "Oh Christ," he pleaded, "help him..."

  Brian put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Let him go, Jack," he said quietly, "he's gone now..."

  "NO! No, he's not. See? Look, he's still breathing, see?" The Shepherd breathed steadily, but his body twitched and shuddered, his damaged brain severely short circuited. Brian tried to pull him away but Jack strongly resisted, pulling free. "NO!" He objected. He grabbed the medic heading for Joshua Kidd by the leg. "Fuck HIM! You get your ass over HERE!"

  Medical personnel are instructed to always tend to humanoid life first. Animal and other life forms come after. The young tech was only following his training. He pointed to Kidd. "But..."

  Jack's helplessness was quickly turning to rage. "NOW!" He snarled.

  The medic knelt down, putting his field pack beside Jack and the wounded Shepherd. "Don't know what I can do, Commander," he said gently, "he's got quite a bit of brain damage..." The rage was surging, and Jack Steele was fighting to remain in control.

  Suddenly, Jack found he had his .45 in hand. "You do whatever the hell you have to do to keep him alive," he growled, tapping the medic in the chest with the muzzle of the gun. "Understand?" The startled young med-tech nodded, opened his emergency surgical kit and instantly went to work. Steele gave the dog one last loving pat and stood up, turning to face Joshua Kidd. "You rotten piece of subhuman filth..." he snarled. He blocked another arriving medic. "He won't be needing you."

  "But..." he objected.

  "Buzz off!" insisted Jack, waving the .45. The medic was not going to argue with a man with eyes like that, they were literally aflame. He turned to the group huddled around Fritz and decided to lend a hand there. Whether it was by coincidence or by design, for the moment, the group had forgotten Joshua Kidd.

  "Help me," gurgled Kidd, one bloody hand reaching out beseechingly.

  "Fuck you, you lousy piece of shit," spat Jack. “There are no words foul enough to describe the depths of worthless human waste that you are...” Steele thumbed the safety off, “Hear that...? Know what that is...? It's Hell, and it's coming for you...” His voice was cold, deadpan.

  "But," pleaded the pirate, "he was only an animal..." He saw no mercy in the dark eyes glaring back at him, only blackness. He shivered from a wave of cold and realized too late he'd crossed the wrong man. "Oh Lord p-p-please," he stammered. "Just an animal... I'll get you another. I'll give you anything... I can make you rich, yes that's it, rich. Rich beyond your wildest dreams... "

  "That proves it," snarled Steele. "You are too fucking stupid to live." The rage overtook him like a tidal wave and it was without hesitation or further thought that Jack leveled the muzzle of the .45. Maria screamed as she descended the ramp of the cruiser, but he did not hear. He squeezed the trigger and watched Kidd's head explode, his brains splash across the deck. The empty shell casing tinkled lightly across the deck as the near-headless body toppled over limply. Blood ran freely from the stump of the neck. "That was for Fritz," he said quietly, clicking the safety and holstering the gun. He stared blankly at the odd pattern of gore, void of remorse or other feelings... mostly numb.

  Maria touched the pilot on the elbow. "Jack?"

  He spun. "Huh?"

  "Jack, what happened here?"

  "Fritz..." his voice trailed off. It seemed that suddenly his mind shifted back into gear. He spun around. "Where's Fritz?"

  They had all been watching, the pirate crew, wounded, medics, his friends. There were quite possibly a hundred witnesses and not one person or being said a word. Brian stepped forward and took his friend by the shoulders. "They took him to the infirmary. So far he's still breathing, but that's about it."

  "I want to see him."

  "I'll go with you," volunteered Maria.

  Jack put one hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. The rage was gone now, only the little boy who was losing his best friend remained. "Thanks," he sighed, "but I think I'd rather go alone." He wiped away a tear with the back of his hand and with his head hanging, sedately followed a medibot to the infirmary. The others stood silently and watched him go.

  “Alright alright!" yelled Brian, taking charge. "We've got plenty of work to do! Let's not just stand around, let's clean up this mess and get organized!" Once again the landing bay became a flurry of activity.

  ■ ■ ■

  The room was dimly lit and smelled of antiseptic. It took Jack's eyes several moments to adjust to the darkness, so he paused at the doorway before entering. He stared at the shiny white tile floor of the infirmary. It was comforting to know, at home or in deep space, some things remained constant. He took a deep breath and walked into the room. Fritz lay alone in the room on an infirmary bed, his only companion, the lit console of electronics that monitored his life signs and kept him alive. Jack stood at the side of the bed and stared at the hoses, tubes and wires running from the console to his friend. If for only a moment, he contemplated pulling them out and letting the dog slip quietly away with dignity. He could not and admonished himself for even thinking of it. He pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat with his head resting on the edge of the mattress and his hand on the soft fur of Fritz's shoulder. "I'm here buddy..." He fell asleep feeling the gentle rise and fall of the dog's breathing.

  Several times throughout the night, medical attendants passed in and out of the room, checking on the dogs status. Except for a slight improvement of his stability, things went unchanged and Jack went undisturbed... until several hours later. "Jack... Jack!"

  He sat bolt upright and blinked in the darkness. "Huh?"

  The hooded figure stood in the darkness on the other side of the bed holding a snifter of brandy. "Are you with me?"

  "Voorlak?" He knew it was. It was a question Jack didn't need to ask. "Ditarian Brandy I take it?" He rubbed his eyes.

  "Of course."

  Jack nodded, "Of course... got any more?" His mouth was dry and he could use the warmth, the room felt cold.

  "Wouldn't go anywhere without it," said the Ancient, handing the pilot another snifter from under his long robe.

  Jack accepted the snifter and took a slow draw on the thick, sweet liquor. It f
elt good as it slid down. "Don't suppose you've got anything to eat in there..." he said, pointing at the robe. Voorlak smiled, Jack couldn't see it so much as he could feel it. "No, I suppose not." He stood up slowly, as he was stiff and sore. "Don't you ever use a door old man?" Jack realized he was probably being a bit irreverent, but he was in no mood for regal formalities. Besides, he felt he had a kind of strange understanding, a link with the wise man that went beyond the pomp.

  "No need," said the Ancient with a casual wave of his hand. "Besides, it's boring... no flair, no style."

  It was Jack's turn to smile. "Well, I guess I've got to admire an omnipotent with a concern for style."

  "Thank you... really, but I'm not truly omnipotent. At least not yet." Voorlak pulled back the hood of his cloak and sipped his brandy. He stared at the swirling golden liquor and thought. The silence was uneasy and seemed longer than it was. The discussion turned serious, as Jack knew it had to. "I had to come," said the wise man, "to tell you not to give up on him like you contemplated earlier." He stroked the short fur on Fritz's front foreleg. "He may not consciously be aware of you, but you need to talk to him, touch him, he'll sense you. You need to keep his spirit alive, give him a reason not to give up his soul."

  "What good will that do? He'll just be a vegetable. Right?" Jack loved his friend with all his heart, but he had no desire to prolong the dog's agony.

  "You must trust me," said Voorlak, pointing a finger at Jack. "All is not lost, unless he feels alone and gives up." He sounded stern and fatherly at the same time. "Now I don't see you as a quitter. Are you willing to let him go without a fight?" That had never been one of Jack's weaknesses. He shook his head, feeling like a young boy getting a little league pep talk. "Good," said the Ancient, "now see this." He moved close to Fritz and while stroking his fur, talked lovingly to him. The monitoring equipment showed definite and almost immediate changes. "See? Of course, you'll probably get better results."