Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (63 page)

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...”

“
Where to, Skipper?” asked Dunnom, stepping down off the last stair, steering the mine director by his collar across the dirt and gravel, out into the sunshine.

“
Let's take him to the Invader...”

“
Gotcha.” The Corporal steered the man roughly, his arms flopping like a rag doll.

In a reflex to the bright morning sunlight, Sy Setzel's hands shot up to shield his eyes. “This is
my
mine!” he shouted unabashedly.
“Timmian!
Where's that good-for-nothing Timmian?
Timmian, you bastard,
where are you?!”

Steele watched the sudden interest of the miners in the tents, feeling hundreds of eyes on them. “Shut your mouth,” he hissed,
“or I'm going to shut it for you...”

“
Murderer! Butcher!”
came the shouts from the miners, congregating. A mass of humanity poured out of the tents, walking, shuffling, hobbling in their direction, threatening to block access to the ship, parked over a hundred yards away. It might as well have been a mile. “Uh, oh. I think we're in trouble Skipper...”

Jack looked around, the only soldiers were the medical team, busy tending to the worst of the miners. The rest of the engineers were in the mine working on the recovery efforts. “Keep moving... and keep
him
quiet.”

The wall of humanity advanced, swelling to over three-hundred in number, wrapping around the three men like a wave, converging on them, surrounding them. Corporal Dunnom shoved Sy Setzel behind him. “Keep them away from me!” screamed Sy, cowering in abhorrent disgust.
“Keep them away!”

Steele smacked him across the side of his head from behind, “Shut up, asshole.” The encirclement tightened. “Easy guys, easy,” said Steele, calmly, arms out, “you don't need to do this...” The crowd pressed forward, within arm's length, reaching, grabbing for the screeching, cowering Sy, their eyes fiercely fixated on him. It was like the Corporal and the Captain were invisible, didn't matter, didn't exist. With no room to maneuver, Dunnom left the carbine slung at rest, reaching for his sidearm.
“Corporal, no!”
shouted Steele, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“
What do we do, Skipper?” The arms brushed past the Marine, scrabbling at the man cowering behind him.

“
Nothing,” replied Steele, deadpan. They had suffered enough at the hands of the filthy little tyrant. A cold, soulless, evil little man, without a single fiber of conscience or compassion. The pilot would not fight or hurt the men that had been so tortured and dehumanized. His ethics and morals slightly tarnished but intact, he pushed a screaming Sy Setzel into their hands. “It's his karma.”

Sy was absorbed, disappearing into the crowd, the group's nucleus shifting, focused on him, changing as he passed through their hands. Steele and Dunnom were on the outside now, left standing alone and untouched. The human mass moved away like it was a living, breathing, thing, the pained, terrified screams of the little tyrant drawing further away, growing weaker and less frequent. Newly released miners poured from the mouth of the mine, adding to the slow motion chaos.

“God have mercy on his soul...”

“
If he has one,” added Dunnom, darkly.

The Marine Corporal and the Captain were still watching, when Lisa ran up from the family tents. “What's going on..?”

“Karma,” muttered Jack. “Karma's a bitch...”

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

FT. MYERS BEACH, FLORIDA :
WINDS OF CHANGE

Chase Holt was suddenly and inexplicably awake, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, listening. Had he really heard that or was he imagining things? The only real sound was Allie's breathing at the foot of the bed, curled up on her blanket. Nothing but crickets... and a dog barking somewhere. Hazarding a glance, the clock showed 3:27 a.m. He took a deep breath and tried to relax, closing his eyes. Solid sleep had been eluding him for weeks and it was getting more than annoying, waking up at odd hours, strange disconnected dreams, insomnia.

Deployed in Afghanistan, sleep deprivation was a fact of life, you dealt with it, but he'd been back over a year... He was beginning to wonder if he was experiencing delayed PTSD or something. Of course, he knew better than discuss that with anyone other than a Brother, who he could trust implicitly.

The military's Pre-Separation Exam was not mandatory, but it was something they strongly encouraged all service members to take advantage of, covering all sorts of complaints, symptoms
,
injuries, disabilities, disorders... the list was huge and the interview questions could be quite personal. Some were almost sinister in their undertones.