Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  Paul shrugged, "Maybe some day it won't be so deserted." He sat in the chair the briefing officer would use, which had a small console and keypad that controlled the flight planning wall chart. Using the keypad, he lowered the lights and called up the chart of the present sector. "We are here." Two ship icons representing the Princess and the Freedom appeared in the center of the chart, prompted by Paul and placed by the computer. "We'll fly in a standard finger four, Derrik and I in front, Brian and Mike as respective wing men." A four craft flight formed ahead of the icons for the larger ships and a red line raced forward, away from the ships. At its furthest point, the two flight groups would split, Paul's winging left, Derrik's winging right. The flight plan formed a diamond, the points facing outwards at the bow, stern, port and starboard.

  After momentarily rejoining at the stern point, the groups would split again to create another diamond with points facing out, above, below and again bow and stern, where theoretically if the recons found nothing, they would rejoin and approach the stern of the Freedom for recovery. This, Paul aptly named the Double Diamond Sweep and would become a standard recon used on the Freedom. "Any questions?" asked Paul. There were none. "Ok, let's head on out and see how they're coming with those birds." The pilots gathered their gloves and helmets and walked through the blast doors out into the flight bay. Two of the Warthog fighters were completely armed and sitting in the two launch bays with their canopies standing open. The other two were still being armed, but were almost completed. The pilots stood and watched the armorers load the last of the missiles.

  The launch assistant, a former pirate, strolled over to greet the pilots, "Any of you gents ready to go?"

  "Are we clear yet?" asked Paul.

  "Let me check," said the assistant. He keyed the mic on his headset. "Do we have clear launch yet, boss?" He scrunched his face as he listened to the answer on his comm unit. "Not yet," he told the pilot, "but soon."

  "We'll wait then," said Paul. The launch assistant nodded and walked away.

  ■ ■ ■

  Able to call up almost any of the ship's systems on his monitors, Professor Edgars was getting an indoctrination of trial by fire. Trying to learn all the different systems while they were live and in operation, was stressful and potentially dangerous because his chair's console allowed him access to any one of those systems. But the Professor resisted his professional curiosity and dismissed the urge to experiment. Instead, he concentrated on monitoring the systems he knew best, with only occasional glances at the rest.

  Jack knew there was probably something constructive he should be doing, but he had slipped into a daydream. It was about the warm Florida sun, fine white sand, and the feel of the salty surf. Images of his home on the beach, friends, family, a welcome home barbecue... "When are you going to find a nice girl and settle down?" his mother would say. "I would like to see some grandchildren..." She rarely forgot to mention it and sometimes she made it sound like, all it took, was going to the department store to pick them out. "Maybe you're being too picky," she would add. Darn right, thought Jack, don't want to end up with a lemon, he'd done that once. One divorce was enough... for any man. He decided no man should be required to give away all his worldly possessions more than once, in any given lifetime.

  "Captain!" Ragnaar's voice snapped him back. "We are clear of the Princess, sir." There was a short round of applause on the bridge.

  Steele looked up to see the stern of the ship ahead, as the Freedom coasted slowly backwards. He watched as the bay doors began to close. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You and the Ensign did a fine job. Maneuver us on thrust engines, bring us abeam of the Princess."

  "Yes, sir." The nose of the cruiser began to swing as the helmsman programmed the controls and the ship vibrated softly as the four thrust engines ignited.

  Jack swiveled his chair to face Raulya behind him. "I need that power back for main engine startup..."

  "You have it, we're finished."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant JG." He nodded at her, "You may stand down your crews and dismiss them." As he swiveled back around, the communications officer announced an incoming message. "Put it on the screen..."

  Gant's grinning face appeared on the screen. "Without a hitch. Nice job, Mr. Steele. Well, you're on your own Freedom. Good luck! We'll send over our Nav-course for the remainder of this sector, we appreciate the escort."

  "Our pleasure," confirmed Jack. The men signed off and the screen winked out returning to the external view mode. Momentarily abreast, the Princess began to pull away as her main engines lit up. Jack punched his comm button. "Engineering, this is the bridge. We're all set, light em up Chief!"

  "Initiating main engine startup," came the reply. The lights dimmed and the ship rumbled like an approaching freight train as each of the three engines roared to life, one at a time. This diminished to a low soft rumble, not unlike distant rolling thunder. "Startup completed, Captain," called Trigoss. The lights returned to normal - which for the bridge, was muted, to ease the viewing of monitors, control and data consoles and the view screen.

  “Good job, Chief.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. "Ok helm, let's catch up to the Princess. Mr Ragnaar, plot us a course parallel to hers, but at a distance which will prevent a blind spot in our sensors." Both crewmen acknowledged and set about their tasks. The Princess had become a bright halo in the distance, but they would catch her soon. “Walt, run some of that power to the launch bay, will ya?”

  Walt nodded, “Of course.”

  Jack punched a comm button to the tower. "Flight control, you're clear to launch fighters..."

  ■ ■ ■

  The lights over the prep and launch areas dimmed, then turned red to prepare the pilots for night flying, a perpetual state, in deep space.

  "Here comes that launch assistant again," mentioned Brian. The pilots turned from their conversation as the gangly young man trotted over from the flight tower.

  "The Launch Boss says we're just about clear," relayed the puffing assistant. "You guys should probably get your bones in those sleds and buckle in."

  Paul slapped the man on the shoulder, "Thanks, kid." He hefted his helmet under one arm and began sliding on his gloves. Walking backwards, he thumbed over his shoulder at the launch tubes. "Mike and I'll take these, you take the other two." The helmet slid out from under his arm but he caught it with his other hand.

  "Nice catch, Pappy!" yelled Brian, pulling on his own gloves. "We'll see you outside!" He picked his helmet up off the wingtip of the closest fighter where he had set it and walked around to the side of the cockpit. He handed the helmet to his mechanic before climbing up the ladder to the open canopy and crawling in.

  "Catch, sir!" The mechanic tossed the helmet up into the cockpit before climbing the ladder himself. Brian caught the newly painted globe and brushed invisible dust off the fresh artwork. Each pilot had his own artwork expertly rendered on his helmet, courtesy of a talented mechanic who had practiced and developed his hidden skill. Brian's had the ship's flying Pegasus logo over red and white stripes on one side and as the helmet was rotated, it was obvious the stripes were part of a waving Stars and Stripes banner.

  As the mechanic belted him in and connected his comm link and other leads, the pilot donned his helmet and glanced over at Derrik in the next fighter. He couldn't see Derrik's logo from that angle but he could remember it clearly, a diving falcon clutching a British Union Jack. Derrik glanced up and flashed a thumbs up signal which Brian returned.

  The scream of the catapults flinging the first two fighters into space made both men start and look up. After sealing the suits to the pilots helmets, the equipment crewmen climbed down and removed the ladders. A ground crewman plugged a headset into the nose of Brian's fighter and another did the same for D
errik. "Can you hear me, Lieutenant?" Brian looked down over the side and nodded. "Good," replied the man, "you can speak, I'll hear you. Ok, close your canopy and seal it." The pilot slid the handle back and the hydraulics hissed, easing the canopy down, latching and sealing it. The air system came on automatically and Brian could feel the cool air. "Ok now, flip on only your anti-grav system." He reached forward and flipped the green and white switch with a click and felt the craft bounce off the deck, the system producing an audible static hum like high voltage wires heard at a distance. "Good, now just follow me... hands on the stick, just point it where you need it to go." The man strolled off towards the launch tubes, tethered to the fighter by the cord from his headphones.

  Brian's fighter headed for the left tube and Derrik's around the flight tower to the right tube. As Brian neared the catapult, his stomach flip-flopped with anxious butterflies. The ground crewman turned around and walked backwards, guiding the pilot with hand signals onto the recessed catapult. The pilot found he could literally move in any direction on anti-grav, including backwards. The man guiding him held up both hands and Brian let go of the stick. "Good," he said, "anti-grav off." When he snapped the switch down, the craft settled to the deck with a gentle bump and the static hum disappeared. Brian glanced around for a moment, the darkness of space lay ahead, past a veil of thin blue, which was the stasis field holding the atmosphere in the flight bay. To his right, a heavy steel and formcrete wall. Derrik's fighter would be on the other side of that wall.

  Though almost literally side by side, the two launch tubes were separated by a special blast wall almost fifteen feet thick. Considering the amount of ordinance and fuel a fighter carried, it was a reasonable and important precaution to prevent a catastrophic launch accident from spreading to the fighter in the next tube.

  The catapult sled rose out of the floor, three legs extending upward toward the underside of the fighter. The ground crewman ducked underneath and fixed the legs to the grab-slots on the hull, one near the nose and one on either side of the fuselage. "Ok," he said, re-emerging to the left, "pull in your landing gear." Brian flipped the solid green switch next to the anti-grav and the hydraulics hummed, pulling the gear in flush with the skin of the Warthog. It left the fighter supported by the legs of the catapult sled. "Switch on your comm unit," instructed the mechanic. Brian flipped the switches for his communications equipment and the frequency dial lit up. He could hear the other fighters talking with the tower and gave the thumbs up signal to the crewman. "Ok, Lieutenant, you're all set, so have a good flight!" Disconnecting his headset cord from the nose of the fighter, the coverall clad figure backed out of the catapult bay and using the control panel outside the tube, closed the entrance to the catapult.

  Brian watched as the wall rose out of the floor on his left and arched upward to connect with the ceiling. The launch tube was oval, being widest at the sides, and the wall had just sealed him in. He felt like a live torpedo.

  "Flight two," called the tower, "you copy?" Both pilots in the tubes acknowledged. "Good. I know you guys are rookies, but if you follow directions, you'll be just fine. So, first... never ever, arm guns, shields, or ordinance in the tube. Got it?" They acknowledged. Without saying so, Brian had to agree, that would be pretty stupid. "Ok, switch on nav." The pilots acknowledged. "Switch on radar, scopes and sensors." As each command was given, it was executed by the pilots and acknowledged. "Ok, here we go... switch on engine power, but do not ignite burners." Brian raised the safety cover for each of the two red switches and flipped them up with a snap. When released, the safeties closed, locking the switches in the on position. A red light glowed above each switch. "Fine. Now, when those red lights turn green, you will be clear to ignite engines." The Launch Boss counted down from five and fired the catapults.

  The walls of the tube flashed by in a blur. In what seemed to be a nanosecond, he had pierced the blue veil of the stasis field and was cast into the star filled blackness beyond. "YaaHooooo!" The engine lights turned from red to green and Brian punched the ignition switches, firing up the Warthog's twin engines as he cleared the tube. "Whoa, what a rush!"

  "Hey! How about a little radio decorum out there!" joked Steele from the bridge of the cruiser.

  "Sorry, Skipper," called his former copilot, "but you gotta' try this, it's totally awesome!" He rolled the Warthog, started a loop that he turned into a barrel roll and fell in alongside Derrik off his starboard wing.

  "Loony Yank," kidded Derrik.

  "Aw c'mon," chided Brian, "gimme a break! You guys have done this stuff before... well, sort of... but this is my first time!" He looked at the stars all around him, "Christ, this is beautiful!" The others were more than inclined to agree. To really appreciate its vastness, the beauty had to be seen from outside the ship.

  After some general observations and a little horseplay, the flight grouped and settled down for some serious recon work. Leaving the Freedom behind as it continued to gain on the Princess, the fighters flew on, observing radio silence. After about ten minutes they reached the Princess Hedonist. As they passed over the cruise liner in formation, they rocked their wings in full view of the observation deck and bridge. The running lights of the liner blinked in response. The fighters continued on at a moderate pace. In about another ten minutes, she was only visible on their scanners.

  By the time the flight had reached their outward bound nav-point, the Freedom had caught up with the Princess and was cruising abreast of her, with about five miles between them. On their navigation computers, the pilots saw the first nav-point turn from pink to blue, indicating they had reached their destination. "See you on the back end," said Paul, breaking radio silence.

  "Roger, Pappy," answered Derrik. "Leader two, breaking right." When Derrik's right wing dropped, Brian chopped his power and followed him through the turn. Letting the other fighter drift across his bow, Brian powered back up and formed on his wing leader's opposite wing. Looking over his right shoulder, he could see Paul's flight as they dwindled to two points of light.

  ■ ■ ■

  "The fighters have reached their outward point, sir, they're splitting for the return points."

  "Thank you, Ensign," said Jack, changing his monitor over to watch the split. At the very forward edge of the Freedom's sensor range, the blip separated to form two smaller blips, traveling on a rearward angle away from each other. At that point, he had a quick understanding of the pattern Pappy had used, the return angle after the split made it obvious. He reached forward and turned the monitor off and got out of the command seat, Fritz rose off the floor next to him. "Looks like you found yourself a new favorite spot, huh?" The Shepherd cocked his head in a most familiar fashion and wagged his tail. "The bridge is yours, Walt. I'm going to get a bite to eat and get some rest." He dropped his comm unit gently on the console, "I'll take over for you later."

  "She's in good hands, my boy." Replied the Professor. "Go get some rest, you were up awful early this morning..."

  "Thanks" said Jack, yawning. "Call me if you need me."

  "Will do."

  Jack and Fritz strolled off the bridge and down the hall toward the central elevators. Jack was thinking how strange it was that the dog was no longer vocal like he used to be, never barking or growling, not making noises of satisfaction or indignation, no whining, no snorting... He wondered if the injury had caused some unseen damage, something the doctors missed. He decided he would speak to CABL M7, maybe have him give Fritz a checkup. They rounded the corner and stopped at the central bank of elevators. Jack pushed the button and waited for the lift. "So what'll it be, Kiddo? Eat first, or a walk first?" The door swished open and Jack stepped in.

  "Wok!" barked the dog.

  Jack froze mid stride in the elevator's doorway. He wasn't sure if he was more surprised
that the dog had finally made vocal noise, or if it was because the vocalization sounded like he had said something. Jack smiled, shook his head and finished entering the elevator. Fritz followed him and sat down. "I must really be tired," said Jack, “I'm starting to hear things." He pushed the third button. "I said eat or walk," he mumbled, "and you barked. So it just sounded like you said..."

  "Woak," interrupted the dog, improving his annunciation.

  The door swished open but Jack didn't move, he stood frozen, staring at the dog who stared back, head cocked to one side, wagging his tail.

  "Captain?" Jack just about jumped out of his boots. "Sorry, sir. Are you getting off?" Jack looked at the gray uniformed non-com standing outside of the elevator. He had a heavy electrical tool bag slung over his shoulder. "Are you getting off?" he repeated.

  Jack looked at the deck number, at the dog and back at the waiting non-com, "Uh, yeah, sure." He stepped off the lift and past the curious technician.

  "You Ok, sir?"

  "Yes I'm fine," lied Jack. What was he going to say? I think my dog just talked to me? Not likely... He waited until the elevator doors closed the crewman inside before he turned to the dog. "Look you, if this is someone's idea of a joke, I'm not laughing..."

  "Nyo," said the dog shaking his head.

  "No?" Steele ran his fingers through his hair. "You said no?" He looked around, but besides himself and the Shepherd, the corridor was empty. "He said no..." mumbled Jack, sitting down on the floor. "I must be losing my marbles."

  "Nyo," countered the dog. He turned and strolled down the corridor.