by Todd Downing
A gleam of metal brought her attention to her right. She pushed aside a small stand of fern fronds and found the prototype, battered and likely broken, but still intact. Thanking her lucky stars, she rose to her feet and sprinted back toward the trees.
# # #
Captain Frederick Grant paced the deck of the aircraft carrier Buckley, the heels of his service boots thunking along the wooden beams. He reached the wireless room and pulled open the door. “Any word from Brandeleine?”
Seamus McMurray, the communications officer, shook his head. “No, sir. She and Joshua failed to report in at the designated time. Perhaps the mission took longer than they anticipated.”
“Unlikely.” Captain Grant sighed. “The operation was planned to the second. It should have been a quick grab. The base at the foot of the volcano was completely mapped, and the route should have been clear.”
A series of tapping came through the wireless machine, and Seamus whirled around and lifted the headset. He recorded the message, then tapped out a quick response and turned with a grim expression on his face.
“Please shut the door, sir.” Seamus’s features darkened.
A foreboding filled Captain Grant as he entered and closed the door behind him. “Who was it?”
“Brandeleine. She’s reached the rendezvous point. Alone.”
“What about Joshua?” His stomach tightened.
“Dead. He was a Silver Star agent.”
“Impossible,” Captain Grant hissed. “He was recruited from the cream of the crop at Annapolis. One of the best and the brightest.”
“One more thing, sir.” The pain in Seamus’s eyes was unmistakable.
“Yes?”
“Brandeleine is requesting a medical officer.”
Captain Grant’s eyes widened. “Is she hurt?”
“She only asked for the officer. No details.”
“Thank you, Seamus.” He pondered Joshua’s betrayal as he opened the door and stepped from the cabin. Striding across the deck to the stairwell, he ascended to the medical wing and stepped into the sickbay.
Doctor Martin Walker stood up straight and saluted. “Captain Grant, sir!”
“Oh, for God’s sake, at ease, Walker. You don’t need to injure yourself every time I walk into a room.” Though Captain Grant liked the protocol on display when they were in port, at sea, he preferred a more casual interaction with his crew. Poor Walker hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Sir!” Walker barked as he stood at parade rest.
Rolling his eyes, the captain leveled his gaze on the young doctor. “Brandeleine Reed is requesting a medical officer to accompany the recovery aircraft from the base of Mount Rainier.”
A momentary look of panic flitted across Walker’s face before he steadied himself and nodded.
Arching an eyebrow, Captain Grant regarded the young man’s face with some curiosity. “What is it, doctor?”
“Uh, nothing sir. I’ll have my medical kit ready in five minutes and report to the hangar.” He made no move from his parade rest.
Captain Grant crossed the room and laid a hand on Walker’s shoulder. “Tell me what has you panicked, Martin.”
Walker stared at the floor. “I hate flying, sir. That’s why I requested and took an assignment on a naval vessel.”
“It can’t be helped.” He gave the man’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “You’ll do fine. Lieutenant Albers is one of the best, and this shouldn’t be a dangerous assignment.”
A shudder trembled through the doctor. “Shouldn’t, sir?”
“Trust me.”
With a nod, Walker scurried to the cabinet next to the surgical bay and returned with a small case. “I’m ready, sir.”
“I’ll accompany you to the hangar.” Captain Grant let out a sigh. “And you can dispense with the sirs when we’re not in port. Honestly, they make me feel like an old man.”
Walker saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out the door like he was on parade at the naval academy. With another roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Captain Grant followed him.
# # #
Brandeleine crouched near the line of trees bordering the broad meadow and waited for the plane to arrive. She’d managed to avoid two patrols of Silver Star agents, but now she felt like a sitting duck. Regardless of Fofanoff and Monaghan’s demise, she still was being hunted.
An hour after she’d managed to send the wireless message on the hidden equipment in the forest, she heard the buzz of a small plane. Scanning the sky, she spotted the familiar International CF-10, modified as a three-seater, circling the meadow and making the approach to land.
Another dog barked in the distance, and she realized they’d have to be quick getting out of there. The plane bumped along the field until it rolled to a halt, propellers still spinning as Brandeleine broke cover and ran. Relieved to see Lieutenant Beatrix “Ace” Albers at the controls, she hurried to the lowest of the three wings, hoisting herself up to face Ace.
The pilot’s eyes bulged. “B-Brandeleine?”
Brandeleine nodded.
Ace turned to the second seat. “Doctor!”
Facing the startled young man who looked on the verge of vomiting, she noted the ashen face of an otherwise handsome young man.
“He okay?” She addressed Ace.
With a shrug, Ace grinned. “He apparently only has sea legs.”
“I can’t believe Captain Grant lets you fly this bucket on a rescue mission.”
“Bucket?” Ace furrowed her brow and set her mouth in a scowl as she crossed her arms. “I’ll have you know this plane is top of the line. Why, her twin is flying in the Dole Air Derby endurance race as we speak.”
A loud explosion sounded in the woods, followed by a plume of black smoke.
Ace stood in her seat. “What the hell was that?”
“A little surprise for my pursers,” Brandeleine yelled over the buzz of the twin prop engines. She leaped off the wing, the ease of it surprising her, and bolted for the third seat, throwing the case to the doctor as she passed. He caught it with a startled yelp. Flinging herself over the lip of the plane and into the seat, she pulled on a pair of goggles and donned the helmet. She reached across to the doctor and took the case from him.
“Why did you need a medical officer?” He yelled, looking angry and sick at the same time.
“I’m fifty-two years old,” she hollered back at him. “You tell me.”
The plane’s engine roared louder as the doctor’s face turned yet whiter, and drowned out the words on his lips. Three Silver Star agents burst from the trees. Brandeleine whipped out her revolver and managed to hit two of them. Their bodies sank to the ground, turning to black goo and smoking. The third agent got off a shot, but missed the three of them. Brandeleine squeezed off another round, hitting the agent in his chest. Smoke rose from the wound, and he crumpled to the grass.
Not sparing another moment for their potential killers, Brandeleine faced forward. The triplane lifted off the meadow and rose into the air. She let out a sigh of relief and sat back. For the moment, she was safe and on her way back to the Buckley. She thought of Joshua, and what a terrible blow his death will be to Seamus. Not just his death, but his treachery.
Exhausted from her ordeal in the forest and on the ledge, she let her eyes drift closed. She awoke with a start when the plane bumped as its wheels touched down on the aircraft carrier and taxied to the end of the runway. Captain Grant strode forward when the plane came to a halt and Ace shut down the engine.
“Brandeleine, thank goodness you’re…my God.” His face blanched in sheer disbelief as she deftly swung herself out of the seat and pulled off her helmet. “How is that possible?” He turned to the middle seat. “Martin, pull yourself together and get out of that plane. You’ve got a patient here.”
Ace hopped from the cockpit and tossed her goggles and helmet onto the seat. She joined Brandeleine and Captain Grant, sparing a glance at Walker’s white knuckles gripping the fuselage.
Plucking a tire pressure gage from her flight jacket, she smacked his knuckles.
“Ouch!” His fingers flew to his mouth. “What was that for?”
“Snap out of it and get out of my plane.” She turned to Brandeleine, reaching a hand out to her face, disbelief shining in her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“I don’t know what’s happened. Joshua shot me with some sort of ray gun, but I managed to bury him and Ava Fofanoff under a ton of rock.” She covered Ace’s hand still pressed against her cheek. “What do I look like?”
“You’re younger than I am.” Ace removed her hand from Brandeleine’s face and pulled a small, square mirror from the front pocket of her flight jacket.
With an uncertain glance at Ace, Brandeleine accepted the mirror. Holding the glass up to her face, she gasped. “How can this be?” She touched the cheek of the woman in the mirror, hardly believing it was her own reflection. She hadn’t seen the face staring back at her in thirty years. The scar under her chin from the fall she’d taken at thirty-two was gone, as were the lines and crow’s feet around her eyes. The skin along her chin was tight, no longer threatening jowls.
Walker finally slunk from the plane and stood on wobbly feet. He joined the two women and the captain. “Is it true you’re fifty-two?”
“What a cheeky question, Doctor Walker,” Ace tutted.
“Okay, Ace. Let him do his job before he loses his lunch on the deck.” Captain Grant stiffened and swung his head toward the aft of the ship.
Brandeleine tensed and followed his gaze. Fifteen small, dark dots grew larger in the sky.
“Enemy planes off the port bow. All hands to battle stations!” he roared as he took off running.
Walker blanched again, gave a quick glance to Brandeleine, and made to run. She caught his arm. “Wait.” Reaching into the plane, she grabbed the Silver Star’s gun and the briefcase. “Take these to the captain. Then tell Seamus to contact AEGIS Admin and inform them I found the plans and a prototype. Got that?”
With panicked eyes, he nodded and took off for the nearest hatch.
Ace grinned. “Wanna come with me for a little fun, young lady?”
Handing back the mirror, Brandeleine returned the grin. “I know you like ‘em older. Do I still fit the bill?”
“Definitely.” His eyes blazed. “Let’s go knock the Silver Star out of the air.”
As the klaxon sounded around them, Brandeleine and Ace grabbed their helmets and goggles from Ace’s CF-10 and pushed the aircraft to the side, tying down the wheels. The heavy winches at the stern of the ship lifted sleek new single prop planes onto the flight deck, and pilots scrambled into the cockpits and gunnery seats.
Ace and Brandeleine ran for the nearest fighter. Ace climbed into the cockpit while Brandeleine familiarized herself with the new machine gun affixed to the tail. The engine roared, and the plane rolled down the runway as the first of the Silver Star fighters strafed the deck. Pockmarks appeared in a line down the runway, barely missing another of the AEGIS planes taking off.
“Get us airborne!” Brandeleine screamed. Far from fear, a surge of exhilaration surged through her body. She relished the return of her youthful recklessness that middle age and a tired body had suppressed.
The plane picked up speed, and Ace pulled on the stick, swinging the nose in the air. As soon as they were off of the deck and gaining altitude, Brandeleine turned the gun onto one of the enemy planes and opened fire. The bullets struck the pilot, and he melted into a pool of sludge and bones. The plane corkscrewed and crashed into the ocean.
Ace gave a thumbs-up as she maneuvered the plane into the dogfight. Another Silver Star fighter dove at the Buckley, but Brandeleine plugged the bottom of the plane full of lead, and the pilot melted away. The plane flew close to the bridge of the ship, but missed by mere inches to be swallowed by the frigid water.
Tracers lit up the sky next to them and tore into one of their wings. Ace banked the plane out of the line of fire, then pulled into a severe climb. Brandeleine held on as the plane looped in a high arch and came down level between two of the enemy planes. She opened fire as Ace activated the gun in the nose of the propeller. Both planes fell from the sky as the third dove.
Lyle Thompson’s plane burst into flames next to them, but Brandeline was relieved to see him jump out and parachute to the water below. His gunner wasn’t so lucky, and disappeared as the plane exploded into a fireball before falling like a stone from the sky.
Shaking her head, she focused on the next plane coming at them fast. It bobbed and weaved, keeping away from the tracers. In frustration, Brandeleine fired in a circular motion, trying to anticipate where pilot would go and managed to sever the wing right wing clean off with the machine gun.
Two fighters remained, and one of them made a wide arch while the other dove toward the Buckley. Three of the AEGIS fighters riddled the plane with bullets, but the aircraft kept falling, flames leaping from the cockpit. The enemy pilot rose his fist in a curse before melting away.
Though the Buckley was turning to avoid the fiery airplane, Brandeleine was sure the dead pilot would hit his mark. From below the burning fuselage falling toward the ship, Kerry Marcus’s plane swung upward and aimed for collision.
“Bail out, damn it!” Ace screamed as the two women watched the AEGIS fighter plow into the flaming hulk. The momentum pushed the burning plane away from the Buckley. Moments before impact, the gunner jumped and parachuted onto the Buckley’s deck, hitting hard. Brandeleine could see several crew members running toward the prone officer. Kerry Marcus didn’t get free and died with his plane.
The final Silver Star fighter lined up with the deck of the Buckley, but instead of opening fire, a small plume of black smoke rose from the gunner’s seat, and a white flag stiffened into a square from the cockpit. The AEGIS planes buzzed the enemy fighter, but didn’t open fire. The Silver Star plane touched down onto the deck of the Buckley and rolled to a halt. Ace lined up their plane to land as crewmen rushed to surround the enemy fighter with guns drawn.
After Ace brought them in, Brandeleine jumped from the plane and ran to Captain Grant. He stood tall, staring down at a young man dressed in the familiar black of a Silver Star uniform. The fair, delicate features of the young man made him look about sixteen years of age, but Brandeleine felt he must be older.
The enemy pilot saluted the captain. “I am Alexei Tsarevich Romanov, and I request asylum.”
Brandeleine’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be.”
Captain Grant’s brow furrowed. “The Russian royal family were all assassinated ten years ago. You can not be the prince.”
“A man named Yurovsky saved my life. He killed my playmate Leonid and buried him in my place.” Alexei glared at Captain Grant. “I demand asylum.”
The stern voice the captain reserved for recalcitrant young officers and disobedient recruits bellowed from his lips. “You don’t rule anything here, young man. Whether or not you are the prince, your family was deposed.” He whipped his head to stare at Officer Peter Ritchie. “Lock this man in the brig. I’ll deal with him later.”
Brandeleine watched the young man marched below deck, then turned to Captain Grant. “Captain, there are some pilots in the ocean. These waters are cold and they won’t last long.”
Three flares shone bright off the port bow, and Captain Grant barked orders to lower the skiffs. Brandeleine made for the nearest, but he caught her arm.
“Not so fast, Brandeleine. Walker needs to give you a full examination. We need to know why you look thirty years younger than you did when you went on your mission. I also need to discuss Joshua with you.” Captain Grant leaned in closer. “And you need to discuss Joshua with Seamus.”
She only nodded and headed for the sickbay.
# # #
Alexei stepped into the cell, and the door slammed shut behind him. It wasn’t unlike Popov House where he’d spent the final hours with his family crammed into a small room. There, however, he wasn
’t able to move.
Alexei.
A wave of intense drowsiness crashed over him, and he stumbled to the bunk hanging from the wall and secured by two chains.
Alexei Romanov.
The ethereal voice echoed through his head. Barely able to keep his eyes open, Alexei lay on the bunk and drifted to sleep. He woke with a start in a graveyard. Sitting up, he shivered at the stone monuments and the mist swirling between them. The mist formed a whirlpool and solidified into a man. Aleister Crowley’s ethereal form floated before him, dark eyes blazing with fury as he stared down at the boy Alexei had once been.
What is your game, Alexei? Do you think you can run from me?
“The AEGIS people will protect me once they establish my identity. I am finished with you.”
Alexei trembled as Crowley’s voice boomed around him. Insolent princeling. You know nothing of the world. I cured your hemophilia. Saved you from your family’s fate. This is how you repay me?
“You cured me, but Yurovsky was the one who rescued me from the soldiers.” Alexei jutted his thirteen-year-old chin out at the apparition, calling on every shred of royalty he could remember from his father.
Don’t trifle with me, child. I can burn you from the inside out. Your life essence will become mine. Crowley brought his hand up, and orange flames ignited at the end of each finger-tip. Prepare yourself to rejoin your family.
“Touch me if you dare.” Alexei steeled himself for the onslaught.
The apparition floated forward, reaching out a fiery hand. At the moment the flames disappeared into Alexei’s chest, intense pain wracked his entire body. His head fell back, and he screamed. Fire burned inside his body, but after a moment, the pain dissipated, and an eruption of energy burst from his chest. The mists forming Crowley shook and shimmered.
What is happening? Crowley flailed, his form catching fire and burning. The ethereal hands yanked free of Alexei’s chest, and the boy collapsed to his knees panting.
