Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru

by Marshall Masters

  “You no have to do."

  “I know, and one day soon, I'm going to explain the true importance of what you've done today. This was not simply a difficult assignment. Trust me when I tell you that you will eventually look back on this day with pride."

  “OK, me do it because I take for family."

  “And do me a big favor, Li Ming."

  “What that?"

  “Stop talking to me with that damn Pidgin English nonsense. I know it is an act and that you speak perfect English."

  Li Ming blinked a few times and answered slowly, “I do it to survive on the street. It makes people think I'm a stupid immigrant and they underestimate me, and sometimes I just keep doing it. I didn't mean to offend you, so can we keep this between the two of us.” She looked at Jimmy with a tender smile. “No. Strike that. I mean between you, me and the dog fart over here."

  * * * *

  WARRANT OFFICER ANN-MARIE Bournelle stood on the flight line beside Major Duncan Peal, the Livermore Air Base XO. Peal pointed up in the sky past the end of the main runway to the approaching landing lights of the C-130j four-engine turboprop transport as it turned from its base leg of the traffic pattern to its final approach and lined up on the runway. “That Herk on final approach is the Flying Circus. They'll touch down in a moment."

  Bournelle watched admiringly as Captain Jerome Richard, piloted his old craft to a smooth and gentle landing. “Is it true what they say about those guys, that they've got an angel on their wing?"

  Peal shrugged. “Yeah, that is what the pilots say. Personally, I think it's a cock and bull story, but you ought to hear my base chaplain. He's eating it up like hot oatmeal, and now every pilot on the base wants your Captain Jarman to tell him how to find his or her own guardian angel. What a load of crap."

  Bournelle smiled, “So, why do you treat them special?"

  Peal could not answer that question honestly, lest it got back to Colonel Arthur Jones. Jones had him by the short hairs, and, like it or not, he had to choose a safe answer. “I guess it is because they've got the best air safety record of any crew in the air. Some say they're on a lucky streak, but the fact is that since Captain Jarman flew with them, they've never burned an engine or had any major problems of any kind since then. Now, everyone who needs an East/West jump wants a seat on the Flying Circus. Hell, some people will sit on their butts for days to get a seat. Heck, these prima donnas might as well start their own airline, for all that matters."

  “Don't you just hate it when people have good fortune like that?"

  Peal scowled at her, “I've got other things to handle. Your chopper will be leaving at the other end of the flight line in about 15 minutes. Make sure you and your new arrival wait there for the chopper back to Los Gatos.” Without saying another word, the disgruntled XO turned and walked away.

  Bournelle watched him march off in a huff as the Flying Circus turned off the active runway, behind a follow-me truck. She knew men like Peal, and his kind had always been trouble for her back in the days when she ran a brothel, which now seemed like centuries ago.

  The Flying Circus turned smartly on the tarmac pointing the gaping hole in its rear towards the flight line. As the rear ramp dropped the remainder of the way, she could see green-faced, yet nonetheless happy, passengers trotting out of the back of the smelly craft in the direction of the portable toilets behind her.

  Bournelle looked again at the photo of the woman she was to meet and was searching the passengers in the rear of the transport when she noticed two people walking towards her out of the corner of her eye. One was the woman in the photograph and the other was a tall, nearly bald, yet handsome pilot in a smudged flight suit. She began walking towards them and called out, “Are you Lieutenant Ramona Baker?"

  The large-breasted, woman in her early thirties was thinner than she looked in the photo, and her hair was now cut short. As they approached, Ramona threw an arm around the tall pilot walking alongside her, who had to stand at least a foot taller than she did. “Yeah honey, I'm Ramona, and this here is Captain Jerome Richard, the most handsome hot shot pilot there is!"

  They met and introduced themselves, shaking hands all around. As Ann-Marie shook her hand, she chuckled to herself. Whoever this gal was, she was a fast worker, which had always been a talent she dearly respected. There was a time when she would have hired a gal like Ramona Baker on sight.

  Lieutenant Baker took Captain Jerome Richard by the arm “Nurse Bournelle, when this fine gentleman and his crew found out that I was headed in Captain Jarman's direction they immediately escorted me to the cockpit, where I flew for the entire trip from Dulles. And let me tell you, that cockpit is a whole lot more comfortable than being in the back of that flying puke can they call a cargo hold.” She gave Jerome a hug. “Oh I'm sorry for calling your wonderful airplane a puke can."

  “No offense taken,” Jerome said with a blush. Ramona had made their trip a real treat and showed she could hold her own with Co-pilot, First Lieutenant Al Chan on the one-liners.

  She squeezed him and continued, “They were so sweet to me! For starters, that handsome co-pilot, Al handed me a bottle of Irish Cream and a cup. So, after a few drinks, I got to feeling good and started swapping fruit and vegetable jokes with him one for one."

  “Well, actually,” Jerome injected in a good natured tone, “you were up on him by two at the last count, so I think you won the match.” She bumped his hip and laughed. “Well tell Al he's welcome to rematch anytime."

  “I'll be sure to mention it."

  Ramona leaned forward towards Ann-Marie and placed a hand on her arm. “You know, they're all so cute I just want to tuck them all in my purse and take them home with me."

  Ann-Marie looked at Jerome with curious grin. “Just what in the hell did you guys put in that Irish Cream?"

  The pilot blushed and gave Baker a hug. “Not a thing. Trust me.” He gave Ramona a peck on the cheek that made her glow. “That sounds like an interesting proposition Ramona; we've got to get going but I'll let know the boys know and I'm sure they'll say the same the thing—just keep that purse warm and don't be a stranger."

  Baker gave him a squeeze. “For you honey—always!"

  As he turned to leave, Jerome paused. He fished a hand into one of his deep, baggy pants pockets and pulled out something that looked like a small chrome cylinder. He held it out to Ann-Marie. “Would you please do us all a big favor and see to it that this gets personally delivered to Captain Jarman, with Rusty's compliments? He'll know what it means."

  Ann-Marie accepted the small cylinder with a puzzled expression, “Sure, but what is this?"

  “It's the eyepiece from my old telescope. I've got a better one now, thanks to Anthony. You tell him that if he needs us for anything, just send it back and we'll come a-running.” With that, he took a step back, bowed with a graceful sweep of his hand and said. “Ladies, unfortunately, duty calls, and I must be away."

  As the two women watched him trot away, Ann-Marie leaned over to Baker and teased her in a soft voice, “Looks like we'll need to find you someplace private where you can change into a dry pair of panties."

  “Well, today is your lucky day, sister. I just happen to have two fresh pairs in my kit bag. One for me and one for you."

  Ann-Marie couldn't help but enjoy Ramona's good-natured bravado. “You know what kiddo, I like your style.” She held out her hand. “Friends."

  Ramona took her hand and repeated, “Friends.” There are times in life when two people meet in awful circumstances and immediately see the abiding hope of life and friendship in each other.

  * * * *

  THE LIVERMORE AIR Base still maintained a small canteen at the end of the flight line, next to the helipads. Normally, Baker would have been forced to wait for ground transport to Los Gatos, but Colonel Henry Tzu, at Port Ord had wrangled seats for them on a Black Hawk helicopter.

  On its way north, it had picked up Ann-Marie at the Los Gatos Triage Center along with a hermetically
sealed, anodized aluminum specimen case filled with several biopsy samples destined for the CDC in Washington, D.C. Many of these samples were obtained during autopsies and taken from patients suspected of having the latest variant of the Three Gorges flu that was now sweeping through the San Francisco Bay Area like a wildfire.

  A U-2 reconnaissance aircraft would fly the samples directly to a secret military airbase just outside Washington, D.C. Hopefully, the CDC would be able to create a better inhibitor or hopefully even a new inoculation that could end this devastating plague once and for all.

  After hand delivering the specimen case to the U-2 pilot, Ann-Marie had to wait for three hours for Ramona to arrive on the Flying Circus. It had been a long, sleepless night, and she was beginning to feel weary; she figured another cup or two of coffee would keep her from falling asleep. She promised herself a long, hot bath and a nap once they arrived at Los Gatos. She looked at her watch as she nursed her second cup of coffee and decided not to wake Ramona, who was now snoozing with her head laid up against the blandly painted wall of the flight line canteen.

  Now on its return leg from Marin County north of San Francisco, the Black Hawk would not arrive for another 40 minutes, which was already blowing a big hole in Peal's 20-minute estimate. That man's attitude, like his estimates, was definitely short of the mark, Ann-Marie concluded.

  She left Ramona asleep in the canteen and strolled to the flight desk to confirm their arrival. When she returned, she filled two mugs and carefully slipped a leg over the bench on the opposite side of the table and nudged her sleeping companion.

  Ramona woke up and rubbed her eyes. “Time to go?"

  “Nope, our chopper won't be here for another 20 minutes or so,” she replied as she pushed one of the mugs across the table along with a sealed dosage packet of Excedrin next to it. “Here, this will make you feel better."

  Baker picked up the packet with a weak but grateful smile. “God, I do love Irish Cream, but what a damn headache! Ouch.” She tore open the packet tossed the caplets in her mouth and chased them back with a sip of coffee. “Thanks, Ann-Marie. You're a sweetheart."

  “You'd do the same for me, and no doubt you will."

  As they sipped their coffee, the two began talking about their lives. “So how did you wind up in the medical profession?” Ann-Marie asked.

  Ramona laughed. “Well, it was my mother's husband, if you want to know? He pushed me to do it after my divorce, and mom happily paid the freight for me to get my masters degree as a Physician Assistant."

  “Husband?"

  “Yeah, he footed the bill actually. Made a fortune back during the dot.com boom and got out while the getting was good. He was a real shrewd guy. Anyway, he said I had to be a PA because all nurses ever got was varicose veins and mismanaged 401K plans. Given that I didn't want to be a doctor we settled on the difference, and I became a PA."

  “And don't tell me your mother wasn't kicking your butt every inch of the way."

  Ramona laughed and held her head and winced. “You're killing me here, girl. Yeah, mom did kick my butt. Well actually, she and her husband took turns at it. I guess that's why I love them both so much. At least now, I'll get to see them more often; that is if I can ever get time off to visit them in Tahoe."

  “You're lucky. You've still got family."

  “I know. Tell you what; if we ever get a chance to make it up to Tahoe, I'll introduce them to you. Mom will adore you. She used to do a little hooking. Heck, that's how she met my stepfather.

  Ann-Marie laughed. “We'll certainly have something in common then. So what is your mom doing these days?"

  “She and Dad own a bunch of property now in Tahoe, and that keeps them pretty much busy most of the time, now that all those overworked geeks in Las Vegas are going to Tahoe for rest and relaxation."

  Ann-Marie took a slow sip, and putting down her mug asked, “So, you're from this area; your mother and stepfather live in Tahoe, and you had a cushy PA post at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. What I can't figure out is why you're here at one of the worst imaginable duty stations in the country. To what do you owe this great stroke of luck?"

  Ramona shrugged and she pulled up the collar of her uniform to reveal a small pin with an American eagle superimposed over a small American flag—the familiar trademark of the Progressive Libertarian Party. “All they told me is that Anthony is here and that I had to come. That's all I know. And yes, my commanding officer at Walter Reed thought I'd become as crazy as a peach orchard boar when I requested this transfer."

  “He was right on the money, too, but it's your own funeral, I guess."

  “Well, these are strange times, and a gal has got to do what a gal has got to do.” Having said that, she opened her travel bag and pulled out a well-traveled FedEx package. “And then, there is this."

  Ramona slid the packet across the table. “While I was standing on the flight line at the Washington Dulles airport waiting for my hop on the Flying Circus, this cute little Chinese girl walked up to me and handed this package and told me it was from a friend for a friend, which didn't make much sense till I looked at the label. Then, the dime dropped."

  She pointed to the recipient name on the address label. “Tanya Wheelwright and I were friends back when I was finishing my PA residency at the Dominican Santa Cruz Hospital Cancer Center. She was an administrator at the hospital, and we were treating her husband, Henry. He was a really sweet fellow and always tried to make us laugh, no matter how bad he was feeling. Damn shame that he was in New York when those fricking terrorists nuked the UN. He saved a lot of folk, which is why he developed cancer."

  She swallowed hard as the memories came back. “If he had come to us earlier, he might have been OK, but by the time we got him into surgery, it was pretty advanced. However, we did everything we could, radiation therapy and chemotherapy, and by God, he was turning it around. Then he dies with his daughter and Tanya's parents in a tsunami? When I see all the bastards who survived it, it makes me mad that decent folks like that had to die."

  “You won't get an argument from me on that one. So what's the connection between you and Tanya other than working together in the same hospital?"

  “Sometimes she'd pull her husband's chart, go in the break room and cry her eyes out. That's where we became friends. You know how it is. After that, she was called-up and Henry made her give up her deferment because he felt it was her duty. Between us, she wouldn't have left them for all the tea in China so he had to push on her hard, I guess. Anyway, after she left for DC, I decided to join the Medical Corps and was transferred to Washington after she was assigned to Los Gatos. So, when I got a call from this Colonel Henry Tzu at Port Ord asking me to serve under her, how in the hell could I refuse?” She pushed the FedEx package across the table to Ann-Marie. “So now, what the hell do I do with this? I just know it's going to break her heart all over again."

  Ann-Marie pushed the package back across the table to Ramona. “You'll deliver it to her this morning, Ramona, like the good friend you are. You're probably the closest thing she has to family now. She'll need you."

  “I know,” Ramona replied as tears began streaming down her cheeks. “My God! I wish all this was just a terrible dream and I'd wake up and find things like they were."

  “I do, too,” Ann-Marie replied solemnly. “But things have changed. We've changed, and in a few hours you're going to feel as though there is no hope, but there is.” She reached out and took Ramona's hand. “Let me give you a good piece of advice I once got from Anthony Jarman; just keep it simple, stay focused and the world will turn."

  * * *

  Kneeling Before the Trench

  THE BLACK HAWK pilot and his crew checked the waiting room outside the flight desk after filing their flight plans with the Livermore Air Base controllers. Normally, he wouldn't wait for them, but they had been delayed again, and he figured his two passengers for Los Gatos deserved a break. Instead of landing at the helipad, they had land
ed on a closed taxiway because of his failing hydraulic system, and the repairs would put him even further behind.

  It was already 9:00 AM, and he and his crew had been in the air since 11PM the previous night. Short of combing the whole base, he decided to give his passengers more time to turn up while they stopped off at the flight line canteen for a cup of coffee and something to eat.

  After leaving a message at the flight desk for his passengers, he led his crew to the canteen, where they all made a direct bee line for the coffee urn, filling their mugs and grabbing plastic wrapped SPAM sandwiches. He had just started to munch on his sandwich when he noticed the canteen orderly and called out to him, “Say, we're looking for a couple of medical officers headed for Los Gatos, have you seen them?"

  The caustic looking orderly pointed to the far corner of the room, past a table full of aircraft mechanics in grease-smeared overalls. “We got two nursing types back there.” He pointed at Ann-Marie and Ramona. “I think you're looking for the blonde with the big knockers sawing logs and the other one slumped on the table. They've been waiting for you guys for hours and finally dozed off."

  Craning his neck to look over the heads of the mechanics, he spotted Ramona Baker with her head leaned against the canteen wall. The other one had to be Ann-Marie Bournelle, the nurse he'd brought here to meet an incoming passenger from Washington, D.C.

  He turned and looked at the canteen orderly with a cool glare, “You mean the Lieutenant who happens to be sleeping in the far corner."

  The canteen orderly caught his drift. This helio jock was one of those prim and proper types. “Yes sir, I meant the Lieutenant back there."

  Still annoyed, the pilot poured two more mugs of coffee and put them on a tray with a few stale-looking donuts. After telling his co-pilot and crew chief to find a table for the three of them, he carried the tray over to where the two women slept. He found Ann-Marie slumped over the table with her head nestled in her arms. Setting down the tray, he shook gently her by the shoulder. “Wake up ma'am."