Eric Flint's Blog, page 164

Chain of Command – Snippet 23

Chain of Command – Snippet 23

“At present the surface objective is defended only by internal security forces, mostly military and civilian police. We rate their esprit and effectiveness as low.  uBakai lift infantry and armor could be shifted back from the colonial frontier quite rapidly, but Operations is persuaded that our orbital bombardment assets can either prevent a large-scale move of mechanized forces or impose unacceptable losses on them. I must emphasize the importance of maintaining the orbital bombardment force on station in order to reduce the ground threat to manageable proportions.”

She settled back in her chair and folded her hands over her lap.

That was an interesting way of putting it–that the Ops staff was persuaded that the orbital bombardment would work, as if Atwater-Jones did not share that opinion but it wasn’t her job to question it.

“Any more questions?” Captain Kleindienst asked and glowered at them. “Very well. Now for Destroyer Division Three’s specific part in this: Commander Boynton, the task force operations boss, will take over.”

Task force ops boss? He must have moved up from Bully.

“Aye, aye, ma’am.” Boynton put on a set of viewer glasses of his own and began speaking, probably reading from his prepared notes. “Because of the twenty-second burn the former captain of Puebla executed immediately after the first attack, USS Puebla is now seventy thousand kilometers in advance of the main body of DesDiv Three, and considerably farther in advance of the main body of the task force. Based on that, we’ve worked out the correction packages for Oaxaca, Tacambaro and Queretaro to use the thermal shroud of Puebla to occlude K’tok and mask their deceleration burns.

“At those distances the tolerances are very tight, but doable if you follow the burn schedules precisely. Let me beam that data bundle over now and you can pass it to your Ops people. For what it’s worth, and considering the mission change for the division, I think Captain Huhn was right to want his Ops Boss in the conference. Not sure why we need the tac-heads.”

“Noted,” Captain Kleindienst said dryly.

Sam saw Huhn’s holographic image shift beside him.

“Who will we use to mask our deceleration burn?” Huhn asked.

“No one,” Kliendienst said. “Change in plans. You are detached to direct control of the task force commander for the duration of the assault phase. I think the admiral’s going to chop you to DesDiv Four but we’ll see how things shake out.”

“You mean we’re going in with the assault force after all?” Huhn said, his voice wavering a bit. “I thought … I mean, we took a lot of damage, ma’am. And we’re very shorthanded, particularly officers.”

Kleindienst said nothing but moved a pair of viewer glasses down from on top of her head onto her face and for a moment her eyes lost focus as she studied the data projected by them.

“I’m looking at the list of repairs and you must have one hell of an A-gang, Captain Huhn. With the exception of being down one point defense laser, Puebla’s in better shape than any of the other three boats in the division. How are you dealing with only having seven PDLs?”

After a moment of silence Huhn turned and looked at Sam, as did Filipenko on his other side.

“Software patch on ATITEP is all we can manage for now, Ma’am,” Sam said. “Engineering says we can still get full coverage. We just won’t have as much redundancy.”

“Less defensive firepower in a stern-on engagement,” Kleindienst said.

“A destroyer’s preferred angle of engagement is bow-on, ma’am.”

Boynton, the task force operations chief, shifted in his chair and scowled. “Is that your professional judgment, Lieutenant? Sounds like hot air to me.”

Kleindiesnt’s eyes narrowed slightly and she turned to her left. “Commander Boynton, he’s quoting our basic manual on deep space tactical principles: DSTP-01, chapter four, something like section seven or eight. Which is it, Bitka?”

“Sorry, ma’am, I don’t remember. It was just something that stuck in my mind.”

“Well, I suppose there are worse things to stick in there. Anything else?”

Sam thought for a moment, unsure whether he should press his luck, but there was a problem they needed to address while they still could.

“Yes, ma’am, I am concerned about our ability to deal with another round of damage. We took a hit in an engineering parts bay, so a lot of our key replacement parts are gone, over and above the actual damaged components we had to replace. If you want us up front and active, we could really use a component resupply.”

“It’s not possible, Lieutenant,” Commander Boynton said, taking off his view glasses and tossing them on his workstation in anger. “If you had an astrogation background you’d understand that. You know Hornet’s crippled. You want one of the destroyers in your division to shuttle back and forth to Hornet for parts? It’s not feasible, either from the point of view of reaction mass or available time.”

Sam fought a momentary urge to answer that arrogant prick the way he deserved, but swallowed it and nodded seriously instead.

“You’re absolutely right, sir, which is why that’s not what I had in mind. I bet most of the parts we need are on the other three division boats, and as they’re heading back to Hornet anyway–”

“W-wait!” Captain Bonaventure of Oaxaca said, as if suddenly waking from a nap. “What’s that?”

“Make up your list, Bitka,” Kleindienst said, “but light a fire under it. Captain Bonaventure, you fill that list, but spread it out. No more than two cargo pods per boat. I want your three division boats headed back to Hornet ASAP. The admiral detached an Indian cruiser–INS Kolkata–as close escort back there but he wants it up front in his line of battle when the shooting starts. Our two cruisers at Mogo won’t get to us until at least two weeks after we reach K’tok orbit. Until INS Kolkata can rejoin, the cruiser force is down to four heavies.”

“Ma’am, I’m not happy about cannibalizing my parts lockers,” Bonaventure said. “As beat up as Hornet is, what guarantee is there she’ll be able to restock us when we get there?”

“None,” Kleindienst said. “Make it happen anyway.”

Then she turned to her right and glared at Atwater-Jones. “And what are you grinning about?”

Atwater-Jones smiled sweetly at the chief of staff. “Nothing in particular, Mum. I hail from a green and pleasant land and it makes me cheerful by disposition. Sometimes just thinking about Old Blighty makes me smile.”

Kleindienst turned back with a sour look. “Now, if there are no more questions, we’ve all got work to do. Let’s get on it.”

She cut the connection and all of the holo-images vanished, leaving Sam alone in his office. He waited for his commlink to vibrate, waited for the accompanying ID tone of the captain, but it did not come and Del Huhn faded a little more. After five minutes he gave up, squinted up the boat’s directory, and pinged Rose Hennessey, the chief engineer.

“Hennessey, I got six two-cubic-meter cargo pods worth of replacement parts lined up from the other three division boats, but I need a prioritized list of what you want and I need it fast.”

“Six pods? Bitka …I want to have your babies!”

 

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 22

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 22

Chapter Nineteen: The Competition

The mead hall of the Apfelwein Inn was filled with Jager’s men and with many locals, too. It was now the third night of staying in one place.

In the inn were centaurs, Tier, and humans. By the fire, Wulf saw Abendar sitting in a rocking chair. He was smoking a long-stemmed clay pipe provided by the inn. Beside him stood Ahorn, who was smoking his own personal pipe, a hollowed briarwood root that looked extremely well used.

Wulf did not smoke, but he was overcome with the desire to take in the odor of good pipe tobacco. Pipe smoke reminded him of his old tutor Albrec Tolas.

Tolas was a gnome less than six hands in height, but he would always loom as a giant in Wulf’s regard.

When he’d left, Tolas was mad at him.

His old tutor had told Wulf that his expedition to Eounnbard was reckless. He’d said Wulf could send Lady Saeunn there with others if he had to, but that the heir needed to stay in Shenandoah.

Besides, Tolas knew that the dragon was calling again. He said he could see it in Wulf’s worried expression. Wulf was the heir. It was his duty to answer.

To cold hell with the dragon and with Tolas’s attitude, Wulf thought.

He was tired of feeling bitter about it. He just wished he could talk to Tolas now when he had so many doubts about the way forward. Saeunn had gotten so sick on the way.

Now she seemed to be getting stronger, but could he trust it?

Tolas would have given good advice. He always did, even if it was often something you didn’t necessarily want to hear, at least at first.

The least Wulf could do to bring Tolas to mind was to take in a little pipe smoke.

Wulf told Rainer he’d eat later, and went to join Abendar and Ahorn where they seemed to have set up shop near the fire.

The elf bowed his head toward Wulf, but did not get up. Ahorn bent a knee, and said, “My lord.”

I’m never going to get used to being treated like I already have Father’s position, he thought.

They shouldn’t do this bowing. The duke was still alive. But he didn’t have the energy to scold them. Instead, he sank into the deerskin-covered rocker next to Abendar and sighed.

“Maybe tomorrow we take to the woods again,” he said.

Ahorn nodded. “It may also be the day the princess leaves us. Ahorn here tells me that the road south leads to a border crossing less than a league from here. After that, the way goes onward into the Vall l’Obac piedmont.”

“Yes.”

Ravenelle was going home after sixteen years as a hostage fosterling in Raukenrose.

And when Ravenelle turned south, that meant that Rainer would leave, too. He had promised to take her to Montserrat.

What Rainer would do when he got there, Wulf did not know. Probably turn around and head back. Rainer did not talk about his feelings much, even to Wulf. But Wulf knew how conflicted he was. Rainer was all about loyalty.

Even though he is walking straight toward a broken heart. Ravenelle wanted him to take her to Montserrat, so Rainer was going to take her.

It seemed to Wulf as if all the safety and certainty of his childhood had come apart in the past year and a half. His two older brothers were dead. Now his foster-siblings were intentionally splitting apart. All of them seemed to be moving on a path Wulf could not follow even if he wanted to.

“Your face is clouded with worry, m’lord,” said Abendar. He took a puff on his pipe and looked a Wulf quizzically.

“Almost stormy,” Ahorn agreed with a wink and a nod.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Abendar continued.

Turn back time and bring Saeunn back to health and happiness, Wulf thought.

“No,” Wulf replied. He sighed. “It was another long day.”

“It was,” Abendar said. “I spent it tending to the horses. I am skilled at it. That wonderful mare Kreide does not like to show it, but I could tell that even she was tired from the ride. On the way here, she was careful to step lightly with Lady Saeunn on her back.”

“Kreide is a good horse,” Wulf said. “That’s why I picked her out for Saeunn.”

“I would be very happy to have her among my brood mares one day,” Abendar put in. “I suppose I’ll go back to raising and selling horses once I settle in Eounnbard.”

“I didn’t realize you had a job.”

“It is my main occupation. It’s an Amberstone and Anderolan specialty. Saeunn’s family owns Amberstone Ranch, where she grew up. They have always been horse breeders. They turn out the best travelling horses for the Elf Road.”

“I never heard about breeding horses,” Wulf said. “I knew she grew up on a ranch of some kind.”

“I remember Lady Saeunn when she was a toddler,” Abendar said. “Very happy. But she had her own mind even when she was very young.”

“Like in what way?” Wulf asked.

“She loved animals, especially the big ones. She loved buffalo, even the ones that might have trampled her. I saw her once running beside a big heifer buffalo when I was visiting her father. Saeunn must’ve been about three or four years old. She was running along a meadow lane holding a handful of daisies, trying to get the heifer to follow her. Which it did. I was scared for her. I was about to go and get her, but the buffalo seemed to know it was a game, too, and was being very careful.”

“What happened?”

“Finally her mother thought she’d teased the heifer long enough. She went and scooped Saeunn up.”

Wulf smiled. “I’d liked to have seen that,” he said. “Seen Saeunn when she was little, I mean.”

Abendar nodded. “I suppose that was about, oh, sixty years ago,” he said, and took another draw on his pipe. He puffed out a smoke ring. “Elves do not have many children. Even for us, she was special. That’s why her family sent her to the Old Countries after she was star-melded. They wanted the best education for her.”

“She learned to be a healer there,” Wulf said.

“And many other things,” said Abendar.

“I wish we could take her home to Amberstone Valley,” Wulf said. “That was the original plan.”

Abendar took his pipe from his mouth, looked at the stem. It was getting blackened. When the taste got bitter, it was time to break a small piece of the clay stem off. The elf carefully snapped off a section and dropped the broken bit onto the wooden floor beside his rocking chair. This was the custom at the Apfelwein. It would be swept away in the morning.

Taking time with the stem caused the elf’s pipe bowl to go out, however. Beside him, Ahorn took out a wax-coated punk stick from a pouch he wore about his flank. He dipped it in his own pipe bowl. The centaur took a couple of deep draws, and the tobacco in his pipe crackled with building heat. This ignited the punk stick. Ahorn then handed this to Abendar to relight his own pipe with.

The elf did this, then blew out another cloud of smoke. From the odor, Wulf guessed it was Valley Orinoco, which was the more popular tobacco brand. Ahorn’s brand was Perique, which had a stronger odor with more bite. This was also the type of tobacco Albrec Tolas smoked, so Wulf knew the odor well.

Finally Abendar spoke.

“I would gladly have taken her home,” he said.

“We were going to,” Wulf put in. “We.”

Abendar smiled playfully. “Yes, I understand, Lord Wulf,” he said. “You’re not the only one to have ever felt Saeunn’s allure, though.”

Sounds like you’re one of those, Abendar Anderolan, Wulf thought, a twinge of jealousy passing through him. Everyone seemed to want to kid him about his feelings for Saeunn. Well, let them.

“I’m sure I’m not the only one,” Wulf replied curtly.

“I meant no offense, m’lord” Abendar said.

“I know, Friend Abendar. I’m just . . . worried.”

“Neither one of us can take her back to her homeland. The Elf Road is impassable. My traveling band was attacked over and over on the way here. Brothers and friends were killed. When our sulfur wagons burned, all the profits went up in smoke. The ones like me who fought through to the east are lucky to be alive.”

“I get that the way west is closed,” Wulf said, irritated by having to hear yet again why his first plan had been a bad one. “That’s why we’re going to Eounnbard. To the Mist Elves. To find help there.”

“If there is help.”

Wulf stared at the fire. He rocked back and forth. Finally he spoke.

“This can’t be for nothing,” he said. “There has to be.”

 

Chain of Command – Snippet 22

Chain of Command – Snippet 22

The third briefer wore dark blue: Commander Cassandra Atwater-Jones, Royal Navy. She seemed quite amused by whatever had gone before.

“So you’re the famous Lieutenant Bitka,” the gray-haired staff captain said, making famous sound like an epithet. Her mouth seemed sculpted into a permanent frown, accentuated by her heavy jowls and deep-set eyes. “I better let you know neither I nor Commander Boynton thinks much of your theory of the uBakai attack profile. Commander Atwater-Jones disagrees with us, but I do not believe either she or you appreciate how tricky the astrogation set-up for that attack must have been.”

Boynton. That name was familiar. Where did he know him from?

She glowered at him and after a second or two he realized she expected a reply.

“Understood, Ma’am.”

“I still believe the problem must have been an intelligence leak.” She turned her glare on Atwater-Jones, who returned a cheerful smile. “Do you have anything to add to that, Commander?”

“If I had,” Atwater-Jones said, still smiling, “and as it would involve an on-going intelligence investigation of a most sensitive nature, it would of course be for your ears only, Mum.”

So apparently Sam was not the only one who occasionally felt the urge to bait the bear.

The formal briefing got going after that. The formidable gray-haired captain running the show turned out to be Marietta Kleindienst, chief of staff to Admiral Kayumati, the commander of the task force. Atwater-Jones was obviously there as the N2–smart boss. Sam still couldn’t place the other officer.

The plan was essentially as outlined before: a direct descent on K’tok, two cohorts of mike troops landed to seize the needle, another cohort in reserve, the fleet to engage and destroy any uBakai warships in the area of operations, then provide orbital bombardment support and secure the orbital space from interference by any arriving uBakai forces.

Sam was unfamiliar with the terminology of the planetary assault itself, never having served in assault transports or in exercises involving deployment of ground troops. He kept squinting up glossaries to guide him through the maze of jargon. “Mike” stood for Meteoric Insertion Capable–soldiers dropped from orbit in individual re-entry capsules and accompanied by clouds of decoys to confuse missile interceptors.

The five heavy cruisers would hold low planetary orbit (LPO), positioned to bombard the area around the Landing site. The four destroyers of DesDiv Four would form the outer screen in much higher planetary synchronous orbit (PSO). The transports and logistical support vessels, along with USS Pensacola, the task force flagship would take station as needed.

Captain Kleindienst also told them a Nigerian and a British cruiser–NNS Aradu and HMS Exeter–had been detached to secure the system gas giant, Mogo. The four destroyers of DesDiv Five had been dispatched to Mogo; they would arrive later than the cruisers but relieve them on station there so the heavier ships could rejoin the task force.

“Any questions?” Captain Kleindienst asked and looked at the twelve men and women in the crescent.

To his surprise, Sam heard Filipenko clear her throat.

“I have one, ma’am.”

Kleindienst’s frown deepened and took on an added layer of impatience.

“Very well, but make it fast.”

“I’m a communications officer by training and principle experience. Usually communication back to Earth takes weeks, because there is no communication except by data transfer by jump craft. This is only our fifth day of war.

“I know our emergency procedure calls for an automated comm packet dispatched by jump missile to Bronstein’s World, where it will be received, transferred to a similar jump missile to Earth, where it will be received, acted on, and the procedure then repeated in reverse. But even the emergency process takes days, usually many days.”

“Yes, what’s your question?” Kleindienst snapped.

Filipenko took a breath, perhaps to steady herself, and then spoke.

“This plan was given to us in outline the day of the attack. I don’t see how consultation with superior authority was possible. Is this attack authorized?”

That was a hell of a question. What Filipenko said was true, obviously true, but Sam hadn’t thought to wonder about it. He faulted the astrogators for not thinking tactically, but Filipenko just showed him what it meant to think as a signaler.

Opposite them, Kleindienst paused, apparently to let her glare grow even more fiery.

“Given the very problems you enumerate,” she said carefully and slowly, “and given the volatile nature of the situation here, Admiral Kayumati sailed with sealed orders covering a variety of anticipated contingencies. Yes, Lieutenant, this attack was authorized at the highest level. Admirals don’t go around starting wars.”

Sam did not find that particularly reassuring. Of course the attack was authorized. But if the task force had sailed with contingency plans this detailed, how peaceful had the original intention been? The uBakai had struck the first blow, taken the role of aggressor. But what if they hadn’t? Maybe they had been very obliging to strike that first blow. Maybe that’s just what the coalition had wanted when the task force was sent, but that left Sam more unsettled than the idea of a rogue admiral swept away by desire for revenge would have. If their side had wanted this to happen, then they had wanted Jules and the others to die. But that was a very big “if.”

“Very well,” Kleindienst said, eyes narrowed with irritation. “The smart boss will update you on our current threat assessment.” She nodded to Commander Atwater-Jones.

“Right,” she began. “Our best estimate, based on communication traffic analysis and sensor tracks over the last six months, is that the uBakai have four cruisers in the star system, of which two are currently in orbit around K’tok. One had been in orbit around Mogo but withdrew upon approach of Task Group 1.4–that’s Aradu and Exeter. We don’t know its angle of departure as it made its escape burn when Mogo was between it and our task force. Very clever boots, these uBakai. One cruiser is currently unaccounted for, but did depart K’tok orbit at a time consistent with Lieutenant Bitka’s theory of the initial uBakai attack profile.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” the dark-haired male officer with a squat face and bulbous nose said. He wore the three broad stripes of a commander and Sam finally placed him: Holloway Boynton, who had been Ops Boss on USS Theodore Roosevelt where Sam served as a sensor officer until three months earlier.  He knew him by name but had never spoken to him.

“No,” Atwater-Jones answered, “but if that cruiser made both attacks, and if it made its final evasive course correction using its MPD thrusters at a low enough energy level to escape thermal detection by us, we have a reasonably limited sphere in which it must be.”

“Commander, we’ve had HRVS optics looking in your sphere for days, and haven’t found anything,” Boynton said.

“Which means,” Atwater-Jones shot back, “either Leftenant Bitka’s theory is incorrect or the vessel is where we cannot detect it by visual stellar occlusion–which is to say it is directly between us and the asteroid belt, which I note we have not completed mapping.”

“That’s enough,” Kleindienst snapped. “This is a briefing, not a staff debate.”

“Quite right,” Atwater-Jones said. “As I was saying before I was interrupted, our best estimate is that they have four cruisers in the system, two around K’tok, one somewhere near Mogo, and one unaccounted for, but it’s bloody-well somewhere and up to mischief.

 

Iron Angels – Snippet 30

Iron Angels – Snippet 30

Chapter 18

“I like him, this professor friend of yours.”

The smile hadn’t left Temple’s face ever since they’d departed the University, leaving Vance behind with Edwin White. Temple was happy to meet Ed, but what could possibly come of it, what with her being exiled to the Washington, D.C. area and Ed out here in Chicago? Unless she swung a transfer to the Chicago field office someday after all the people she pissed off retired from the Bureau. Yeah, right. Once more Temple was getting ahead of herself. And Jasper sure as the Lord above made little green apples wasn’t playing matchmaker. There was no way he’d want her steaming in on his buddy, Ed. Call her old fashioned, but she wasn’t down with long distance or internet-based relationships.

“He’s a doctor, no kidding, but he’s not all that braggadocios.”

“Excuse me,” Temple said, “but did you really say braggadocios?”

Jasper grinned. “How about we chat about Hyde Park a little more, you’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

Temple huffed. “When I gave you a hard time on the way to meet your wonderful old crusty white guy professor buddy — you thought that was my ‘old self’?” Temple glanced over at him, and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, I never said Ed was white. You made the assumption, remember? After giving me a hard time about what’s his name — Farrakhan? Oh, you’re gonna wanna hit the exit here and then straight on down Indianapolis Boulevard. We’re gonna have to meet up with the source I told you about, Carlos.”

“Let’s back the conversation up a bit. I need to apologize,” Temple said.

“For?”

“Not what you think.” She reached over and turned on the air conditioning. “I was a bitch early this morning and not at all cold — temperature wise,” she added, glancing at him. “You thought I was gonna apologize for the racial stuff, didn’t you? Well, think again.”

Jasper scratched his cheek, and a smile fought its way on to his lips. “I sorta hoped you’d apologize for the nasty coffee you brought me this morning. Where did you get that motor oil anyway?”

“My little secret. But don’t get on my bad side, I can get more where that came from.”

This ride was much better than the morning’s. Temple’s mood had improved considerably, and Jasper was much less of an ass now that he was awake and caffeinated.

A stream of steady clunks rocked the rental car.

“Great roads you have in this neck of the woods,” Temple said.

“They’re constantly repairing,” Jasper said. “But with such heavy daily traffic and rough winters, keeping the roads in navigable condition is nearly impossible. I think the roads on the Indiana side are much worse than Chicago’s.”

“I’m guessing a lot of trucks go along with all the industry in a relatively confined area,” Temple said. “Right?”

“Yes. There’s no question this area benefits greatly from industry, but it is or was no friend to the roadways or the ecosystem. This is mostly steel country, and still is — although a lot of jobs in the steel industry have been lost.”

“Plants moved overseas?”

“No, automation mostly. A lot of the secondary industries got hurt worse. That’s why you see so many abandoned buildings and plants in this part of Indiana.”

“Where are we headed?” Temple finally asked, happy to change the topic to the task at hand. “You don’t want to hit your rez first and change before we meet the source?”

“What? No. What I’m wearing will work for the purposes of this meeting.”

“If you say so.” Temple glanced sideways at him and pursed her lips.

“It’s fine for a diner.”

“I suppose,” Temple said. Jeans and an old olive green t-shirt, likely left over from Jasper’s Marine Corps days, were unacceptable in her version of the Bureau, and certainly in Hoover’s Bureau of the past. Of course, in Hoover’s bureau, Temple would never have been a Special Agent. Not simply because of her skin color, but also because of her gender. Despite all that, the Bureau enjoyed a reputation built on Hoover’s ideals — and one of those was agents looking the part. Suits. Clean cut, that sort of thing.

“So anyway,” Jasper continued, “I want to do a daylight drive by of a few areas before we meet with Carlos. The diner has decent food, but don’t ask for a cappuccino. We’re going out of the way, but unless we get caught on the wrong side of a long train, we’ll be fine.”

“No worries there.” Temple was pursing her lips again.

“What?”

“You’re a former marine — ”

“Not former. Once a Marine, always a Marine.”

“Yeah right, so you’re a former marine and you sip cappuccinos? You expected one from a diner?”

“Whatever, but once a Marine always a Marine, there’s no former,” Jasper said. “Turn down this road, I think we can do two things — speak with the old woman who’s van was stolen, she’s at St. Catherine Hospital, and why not pass by the Euclid Hotel and the house we visited last night?”

“You’re thinking it’s odd so much is happening in such a confined area, aren’t you? See? You’re predisposed to working SAG type leads.” Temple grinned.

“It’s logical for any type of investigation. For instance, the animal control place would make sense if the attacks were easily explained, but the fact that the mangled bodies were found near the Euclid Hotel is too coincidental.”

“Okay, but I’m not sure what we’re looking for.” Temple didn’t argue and simply followed his directions to the diner.

After a minute of silence, Temple said, “Wow, this route seems circuitous. Have you ever worked counterintelligence?”

“No, not really. Not beyond helping out some of the other squads when necessary, why?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re performing a surveillance detection route.”

“Maybe I am. This route wouldn’t exactly be the one most people take to where we’re going, and I wanted to ascertain if any interested parties tailed us, but what I said a few minutes ago, still applies.”

“Since you brought up the subject, anyone following us?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t want to tell you the plan simply because you may have driven differently. You’re not upset, are you?”

“Do I look upset to you?”

“To be honest, I have a hard time reading you.” Jasper sighed. “Not that my expertise ever rested in reading women, obviously, based on my ex-wife Lucy.”

“Something tells me you’re being a little too hard on yourself. It takes two people to tango, you know. We all have relationships go pear-shaped on us.”

“See all those train tracks on your right?” Jasper nodded out the window. “We’re on Chicago Avenue now, cutting across East Chicago.”

“Train tracks, so what?”

“Yes, but look at the sheer number all lined up. More rail runs through northwestern Indiana than almost anywhere else in the United States.”

“Again, so what?”

“I’m thinking if I’m part of a cult, we hide in this area, what with all the noise, trains, and industry. The exact location of these events is niggling at me — why are so many strange things happening in or around the Euclid Hotel? There are plenty of train tracks around, but the hotel overlooks a fairly busy intersection with residences not far off. There are better, more deserted places in the area, and even more in the next city over, Gary, where anything goes.”

“Hiding in plain site most likely,” Temple said. “And in an abandoned building no one cares about and no one visits.”

Jasper shrugged. “Let’s drive through and see if any ideas shake loose. Perhaps we’ll have some questions for Carlos when we meet him at the diner.”

At least plenty of green remained in this part of the state. Industry hadn’t destroyed all the plant life — and there must be plenty of animals roaming about despite the large number of people and dangerous surroundings.

At Jasper’s direction Temple headed down Elm Street, toward St. Catherine Hospital.

****

“The building looks old,” Temple said.

“I think it was built in the twenties. I’m a big fan of that time period,” Jasper said.

Temple’s eyes widened. “You? Really?”

“Yeah. The area needed a hospital because of the heavy industrial focus and number of workers in the East Chicago area. The exterior has changed over the years, but the original spirit of the building has been preserved by keeping the brick and the original arches resting in the middle of the main entrance. They’ve increased the size of the hospital substantially over the years.”

“Come on,” Temple said. “That sounded as if you recited it from a book or some Wikipedia entry.”

 

The Spark – Snippet 09

The Spark – Snippet 09

“Young man?” said a voice behind me. “Might I look at your equipment, please?”

I turned fast and felt embarrassed when I saw it was just the man in gray. He was even older than he’d seemed at a glance–really old. His tunic and trousers were loose enough to suggest bulk, but his face was as thin as a stork’s.

“Ah…,” I said. I looked toward Easton and my friends–May’s friends anyway, and they were sure acting as friends to me–and didn’t see need to rush.

“Sure,” I said, and unhooked them. “My name’s Pal,” I said, giving him first the shield.

Instead of replying, the old man stared silently at the shield he held in both hands. I opened my mouth to say something more, then realized that he was in a trance.

He blinked and looked up. He smiled brightly at me; it made him look a lot younger. “This is quite remarkable, Pal,” he said as he returned the shield to me.

“You’re a Maker, sir?” I said. I rehooked the shield and gave him my weapon.

Instead of entering it in a trance as he had the shield, the old man said, “I’m sorry, I was impolite. It happens too often, I’m afraid. My name’s Guntram and yes, I’m a Maker, but I’m really retired now.”

Only then did he look down at–and into, I now knew–my weapon. When he raised his eyes to me again and handed back the weapon, he said, “This was originally a drill, was it not? How quickly does it recover?”

“A rock drill, yes,” I said. “Mining equipment. I found some memories of previous use when I was working on it.”

I made a face because I didn’t like to admit this, but I was going to say it: “Recovery time from a full discharge is five minutes or next thing to it. It’s designed it for setting charges in hard rock, and the Ancients weren’t much concerned about recovery time. I was able to trim a little off the original, but only a minute or two.”

“Rocks usually stay where they are for as long as you need, in my experience,” Guntram said. “A clever repurposing, though. But what really amazes me is the way you’ve turned an umbrella into a shield. What gave you that idea?”

I laughed. I’d been embarrassed to talk to another Maker, but Guntram put me at ease. “Necessity, I guess,” I said. “Beune is way out on the marches. I used what I could find myself. It must’ve been a pretty quiet place in the time of the Ancients, because there’s no weapons that I’ve been able to find and no real shields either. It struck me that this weather shield had the right concept, if I could just beef it up to repel more than raindrops.”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t sure it’d handle the extra power,” I said, “but it turned out that was no problem. Thing is, it has a lot of inertia at full power. That makes it hard to change position in a hurry.”

“Yes, it would,” said Guntram, frowning as he focused on things inside his own mind. “I wonder….”

Then he broke off and smiled again. “Who was your teacher, if I may ask, Pal?”

“Sir, I didn’t have one,” I said, embarrassed again. “Weapons aren’t the only thing that’s hard to find around Beune. There’s plenty of Ancient hardware, though much of it’s been ground pretty smooth. But I’m the only person I know who’s trying to rebuild it.”

Reaves came walking back along with one of Easton’s attendants, a fellow my age with a really white complexion and short blond hair. “We’ve got Easton’s weapon set on 20%,” Reaves said, “and Morseth’s staying with him to make sure that doesn’t change. Time to set yours, laddie.”

I had already turned the power setting to what I guessed was about 20%. I hadn’t bothered to fit the dial with detents, and I honestly didn’t have a way to calibrate it precisely anyway. I guessed I’d accept whatever the others thought was fair.

“What in hell is this?” said the servant, taking the weapon from me.

“I made it myself,” I said. I was getting tired of explaining that. “I think it’s set right, but I can’t swear to it.”

The servant looked hard at me, then turned to Reaves and said, “How does this hobby come to have a pair of Champions for seconds, hey?”

“That’s something your master might’ve asked himself before he started this business,” Reaves said. He took the pea-sized ball of something he’d been warming in his palm and squeezed it onto the edge of the power dial. Wax, I’d thought, but it had a slightly pine smell so it must’ve been resin. “Here you go, Pal.”

I hung the weapon back on my belt. I hadn’t realized he and Morseth were Champions. I hoped I wouldn’t make them look bad.

“We’re ready here!” Reaves called. Morseth waved back. The servant who’d handled my weapon looked at Reaves, then started back toward his fellows.

“Any time you want, boy,” Reaves said quietly to me. He gestured toward the field. “And good luck to you.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. “And please thank Morseth if, if you see him before I do.”

I strode out into the field and switched on first my shield, then my weapon. The light changed. Instead of coming from the sun overhead, it was soft and even from all directions. I could see other pairs sparring on the field.

I could see the spectators, too, but for the most part they were blurred like I was looking through thick glass. Morseth and Reaves were exceptions because they’d turned their shields on so that they could watch the details of what was happening on the field.

I was really lucky to have met May. Of course if I hadn’t, I might not be here now.

The thing is, there’s always going to be a bully who wants to chivvy the new guy, and I was new in Dun Add. This was a better reason to be fighting than because some oik turned my bowl of stew over in my lap. That might even have been Easton….

He was coming toward me now. I decided to walk well out into the field so that none of the spectators would get hurt. I glanced at the sidelines again to make sure of that. To my surprise, the old Maker, Guntram showed up just as sharply as the men with weapons did; he was on the same plane. If I got a chance, I’d like to chat with him.

Easton was feinting with his weapon, the bright line of it quivering above his right hand. I cocked mine to slant across his stroke if he made one.

He sidled right. I turned with him, but my shield was cranked full on: it was like lifting an anvil with my left hand and pivoting. I moved my thumb to reduce power on the vernier control, but Easton came in fast and slashed at my left elbow through the edge of the shield.

It was like running full-tilt in the dark and hitting the edge of an open door. My left forearm went numb, which was the last thing I needed right then. I was wondering if I ought to throw the shield down so I could move, but he got behind me and slammed my left knee from the back. It buckled and I went down.

I had no real choice but to drop my shield then: the way I’d fallen, it didn’t protect me against anything but the earthworms. I tried to roll over, but Easton cut at my right forearm and my weapon dropped also.

He jabbed me in the ribs. 20% power wasn’t enough to penetrate, but chances were he’d broken one or two ribs. It was like a really hard kick

I reached for my weapon with my left hand. I could at least close the fingers on that side into a grip. Easton whacked me across the temple and things went gray. You’d think I’d have hurt less, but instead it felt like my whole skin was wrapped in buzzing white fire.

I could hear people shouting, but I was far away from everything. I suppose they were calling on Easton to stop the fight. If he heard the cries, he ignored them: another blow caught me in the middle of the back.

Everything went black. That was no surprise, but I didn’t seem to be unconscious. The great God knows I felt every one of the strokes that had hit me, but the darkness fell on me like a blanket and there were no more blows.

I just lay there, feeling the grass tickle my nose and wondering if I was going to throw up. That lasted what seemed a long time.

 

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 21

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 21

Chapter Eighteen: The Mistake

Wannas found Ursel at the end of the first watch. “I will spell you,” he said. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? We have such pressing business but there are children wandering around in the woods here.”

“I know more about them than I let on,” Ursel said. “I was out here looking for them when I came upon you. They aren’t the first changelings to come over the mountains. Something is happening in the Wild Kingdoms and it’s bad. Whole families of were-creatures and changelings are being slaughtered. I didn’t want them to know that their parents are probably dead.”

“Then you will send them to a place where these refugees are being kept?”

“If and when they come back.”

“Why let them go at all?”

Ursel shook her head. “You know why. They need to know there’s nothing they can do to save their parents and kinfolk. Then they can live in some kind of peace with us.”

“You’ll take them in?”

“Yes, we have a spot on the western side of Massanutten Mountain where we are keeping them until we can sort them out. There’s a lot of bad feelings against changelings in Shenandoah. It comes from the early days when werewolves had teamed up with some death-cult Skraelings. We called them the Wutenluty. It was six hundred years ago, but people still remember. Old Duke Tjark led the first settlers to take them on and defeat them. He had a magical weapon called the Dragon Hammer. All of this is part of the founding story of the Mark of Shenandoah.”

“Does your father know about this camp?”

“Yes, he’s the one that suggested it. He’s always had a soft spot in his heart for changelings.”

She considered saying more to him, but they already had so much on their minds trying to find Wulf and deliver a message that Potomak needed help. There was no reason to bring up details that didn’t have anything to do with the mission she’d taken on to help them.

Ursel stood up from the rock she’d been leaning against and stretched. Then she crouched back down. She counted her arrows. Wannas leaned over and gently touched her arm. She turned to face him.

“Mistress Keiler. Ursel,” Wannas said in a low voice. “I’ve been watching you the past few days and I’ve never met a woman who was so sure of herself. You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen with a bow. Your form is beautiful.”

“Even with muddy boots and a face covered with scratches?” Ursel said, trying to lighten up where she feared this conversation was going.

“I meant your archery,” Wannas replied

“Oh,” Ursel answered, embarrassed.

Wannas smiled. “Your face looks fine, too,” he said. “Lovely.”

So much for keeping things lighthearted, Ursel thought.

“I wonder if . . . are you supposed to remain a spinster so you can take care of your foster-father into his old age? Is that why they adopted you?”

Ursel could feel the flush coming to her face and she was glad it was night so that Wannas couldn’t see her. Both of them were squatting. Ursel reached over and quickly pushed him back over his haunches. He fell splaying into the leaves.

“You shouldn’t talk about things that you don’t know anything about,” Ursel said.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Wannas said. He sounded shocked that she had taken his words the wrong way.

But how could I not, Ursel thought. He practically called me a spinster-in-the-making!

I’ll bet he’s used to everyone making allowances for him being disrespectfully candid. He’s definitely a rich kid who thinks that people admire his always being truthful no matter what. But actually they are probably just afraid of losing trader status with his big, rich family.

Ursel knew the type.

Raukenrose, the capital, was crawling with men like that.

That was one of the reasons she felt relieved when she’d left.

“To answer your nosey question,” Ursel said. “No. I am not expected to stay unmarried. The opposite is true. My father is going to give me a dowry. At first, it was in silver thalers. But I told him I didn’t want that. So it’s going to be land instead. And it isn’t a dowry, despite what people call it. I get the land either way, whether I get married or not.”

“That must be nice,” Wannas said. “I’m supposed to become a factor at Kitty Yards. That’s my father’s tobacco market in Potomak. He hopes I’ll take over the business one day. I don’t know if that’s what I want. I wanted to go to Raukenrose University. Well, before the Romans decided to take over my city and box me in.”

“Well, you got to Raukenrose, at least,” Ursel said with a laugh.

“Yes, I guess I did. I even met the head of the university. He is a very little man.”

“He’s a gnome.”

Wannas nodded. “Yes. I told him I wanted to study the history of my people, the Powhatan. He was excited about that. He said he was looking forward to meeting me again in more peaceful times.”

“I’ll probably go. Women study at Raukenrose University, too, not like in Sandhaven,” Ursel said. “University colleges are for male and Tier. The sections called ‘houses’ are reserved for women. But everybody mixes when they are taking classes.” Ursel smiled. She reached out a hand and helped Wannas to sit back up. “Maybe you’ll meet a girl at the university. Somebody right for you.”

Wannas touched her arm gently again. “Maybe I already have,” he said softly. He leaned over toward Ursel, moving in for a kiss.

But she couldn’t have this. Not here and not now. She moved her head away and said gently, “No.”

Wannas took a moment and withdrew. “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ursel replied.

“Is there already somebody?”

Ursel considered for a moment then smiled mischievously. “What makes you think I have to be in a relationship with someone else to reject you?”

“I guess . . . you don’t.”

“Listen, I know what it’s like to make a fool of yourself in front of somebody else because you feel something that they don’t.”

“Is that what just happened?” Wannas replied, bitterness in his voice.

“I’m just saying that there’s no reason to be embarrassed. You and I are from completely different worlds. We’re on the same path for a while, but soon the path will fork and we’ll probably never see each other again. I don’t take you for a one-night sort of man. Are you?”

Wannas puffed out his shoulders. “No,” he said. “I am not.”

“I know I’m not a one-night sort of woman. So this just can’t work.”

Wannas hunched silently for a moment. In the darkness she couldn’t tell whether he was angry or not. Finally he spoke. “You’re probably right,” he said. “But I do think there’s somebody else. Got to be. I won’t ask you any more about it, though.”

“Please don’t.” Ursel put the arrow quiver around her shoulder and stood up.

“Probably some noble guy, right? I never have understood you monarchists, with your rules about firstborn and second-born inheritance. In a democracy like I come from, the father can decide to give his children whatever he wants, or nothing. What would the adopted daughter of a bear person get set up with? Some fields near the ancestral hall? Maybe the yearly lord’s share from a village or two? That land around Bear Hall is prosperous. Some prime tobacco land would make a pretty good lure for a man.” He chuckled at his own wit.

Just when I thought you might be not a donkey’s ass, Ursel thought, something like that comes out of your mouth.

“No villages,” Ursel replied. “Not even any farmland. Just some woods.”

Wannas nodded. “I’m sure that’s very generous. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings again. So where are those woods of yours going to be?”

“You’ve been traveling through my land for the past five days,” Ursel replied dryly. She reached down and patted him on the shoulder.

“All of this forest?”

“Just the western Shwartzwald,” she said. “My brothers will have the farmlands and the eastern woodlands. But it’s all a family kind of arrangement. Bears are like that.”

“That’s . . . a lot,” Wannas said.

She took several steps away, then turned back to Wannas. She spoke with a more serious tone in her voice. “Please keep a watch over these children tonight. Who knows what kind of mischief they could get into out here. I feel kind of responsible.”

“We saved them from wolves.”

“They’re just children. Orphans, probably.”

“I will. Nootaw says he will take third watch.”

“All right,” Ursel said. She lay down within the saplings. She’d given her bedroll to some of the children, so she just rested on her back in leaves. Overhead, the stars were burning brightly. The temperature was pleasant enough, and it wasn’t going to rain. With her bow and arrows tucked under a shoulder, Ursel was asleep within moments.

When the morning dawned, Nootaw had fallen asleep at his watch.

The coyote pups were gone.

 

The Spark – Snippet 08

The Spark – Snippet 08

CHAPTER 3: Being Put in My Place

Easton walked out of the hall, straightening as he moved. I kept watching. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d turned and belted me if I gave him a chance to do that.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” May said. She started for the door, then paused and bent, making a basket of her left arm. The three-colored cat leaped up; she hadn’t as much as mewed since I first saw her, even when May carried her into the stables.

I grabbed my pack in my left hand and the pitcher of flowers in my right. I just left the bowls on the table because I didn’t know what else to do.

“That bloody man!” May said. “That bloody man.”

“Ah, May, should I get Buck?” I asked as she started off across the courtyard.

“It’s not normal for sparring,” May said. She looked over at me and said, snarled really, “You could’ve kept out of this, you know! There was no reason for you to get involved!”

“Ma’am,” I said, as calm as I could. “I did have to get involved. He was going to hit you. And anyway, I didn’t like listening to him.”

“That bloody man,” May repeated, but this time she just seemed tired. She forced a smile and said, “And you brought the flowers. My God, what am I going to do with you?”

“Well, if you can tell me how fights are run on Dun Add, I’d appreciate it,” I said. We were going back through the passage we’d entered the castle by, so I figured we were heading for the jousting ground that I’d seen when I arrived. “I think the rest is on me, now.”

“I’ll find somebody to take you in hand at the grounds,” May said. She looked at me hard again. I thought she was angry.

“Now you listen to me!” she said. “Sparring’s usually done at 20% power. There’s no reason for a squabble like this to be any more than that. Do you understand? Insist on 20% power!”

We were heading down the slope again. I didn’t even remember seeing the doorman.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “But ma’am? I’m not afraid. If Easton beats me, then that’s something I needed to learn.”

“Pal, listen to me,” May said. “Easton’s father was one of the Champions. Easton didn’t apply for a seat in the hall, he’s in the purser’s office; but he’s got top equipment. It’s not if he beats you, it’s how badly you’ll be hurt when he beats you.”

I figured that if Easton hadn’t tried to join the Company of Champions, he didn’t have the balls to take a knocking around. It was just a matter of sticking with the job until he decided he’d had enough.

I felt my lips smiling, though they were sure dry. I was due for a bad morning, like enough, but I ought to have a better chance than May was saying.

“He wouldn’t really have hit me, you know,” she said. “He wouldn’t dare! There’s a dozen Champions who would challenge him if he did.”

I took a deep breath of air scented by the flowering trees. There was a lot to like about Dun Add, more than I’d been afraid when I left Beune for the capital.

“Ma’am,” I said, “I think you’re wrong there. Easton was awful mad. I don’t doubt he’d have regretted it afterwards, but he was really going to hit you.”

I knew Easton was going to hit her. I’d been hauling back on his back on his arm, and his fist was clenched. He was a nasty fellow, no mistake, and he might well be a coward; but his temper had got away from him this time. I guessed there was a history there that I didn’t know.

May had taken me by a different path through the woods than before. We came out onto the jousting ground, not the landing place. I could see a broad, straight path that led down from the far wing of the castle.

A dozen pairs of warriors were sparring, including three who were globes of shattered light. Those pairs were with their dogs. They’d gone higher out of Here than you could follow without polarized lenses.

Besides the fighters, there were thirty or forty spectators. Several were women, but I guessed most were the attendants of those on the field. One old man didn’t fit in either category. He wore a gray tunic and full-length trousers.

May strode down the sidelines, pausing beside a group of attendants who chatted as they watched their principals. “Rikard, isn’t it?” she said. “Is that Lord Morseth out there?”

“Yes, mum,” said the man she’d spoken to. “He’s out with Lord Reaves. They’re just getting some exercise.”

Another of the attendants nodded enthusiastically. I figured he was Reaves’ man.

“Can you call him in?” May said. “No, don’t bother. They’re breaking up now.”

The nearest two warriors were trudging together off the field. They were big men in their early thirties. One was as tall as I am, and they both were a lot huskier.

“Hey, May!” the taller one called. “What brings you out here? I thought you were too soft-hearted for all this.”

“If it’s soft-hearted not to like watching men beat each other bloody, then that’s me,” May said sharply. “I’m here because I want a favor, Morseth.”

“You got it, May,” Morseth said, his voice suddenly grimmer. He’d caught the undertone in her voice.

“That goes for me too, May,” said the warrior who must be Reaves. “What d’ ye need?”

“My friend Pal here is on his first visit to Dun Add,” May said, nodding toward me. I felt my lips tighten and I hoped I wasn’t blushing. “He’s gotten challenged by Easton, who was being a prick.”

“When is Easton not a prick?” Morseth said.

“I want one of you to attend Pal,” May said. “I told him that it has to be fought at 20%. Can you make that stick with Easton?”

“I guess we can,” said Reaves. He was smiling in a way that was scary where bluster wouldn’t have been.

“Well, do it for me, then,” said May. “Easton was more of a prick than usual, and Pal got into it because he’s a good kid. All right?”

The two warriors looked me up and down. I realized I was holding a pitcher of tulips. I started to put them down, then froze because I didn’t want to look like I didn’t care if they got knocked over.

May took the pitcher from me. “Morseth, Reaves?” she said. “Do what you can, all right?”

She turned to me and said, “Pal, I’m sorry you got into this and I’m really sorry you got into it for me. These boys will keep things straight. Just do what they tell you.”

She swallowed and said, “I’m going back to the Consort’s suite now. Jolene is probably worried about how long I’ve been gone. And I really don’t have a taste–”

May turned quickly and trotted off by the broad path. I could just hear her final words: “–for this sort of thing.”

“Quite a lady, May is,” Morseth said musingly as he watched her go. He eyed me: “Known her long?”

“No sir,” I said, standing straight. “I just met her today and she was showing me around. Easton started hassling her and, well, I asked him to stop.”

Morseth’s smile was very slight, but I thought there was a little warmth in it for the first time. “Did you?” he said mildly.

“Let’s see your hardware,” said Reaves.

I unhooked my weapon and shield and handed them over, one to either man. They turned them over, then traded and repeated the process. Their faces had gotten as blank as stone walls.

“I made them myself on Beune,” I said. The silence was weighing on me.

They handed back my shield and weapon. “I guess he knows his own mind,” Reaves said to Morseth.

“There comes Easton,” Morseth said. He turned to me and added, “We’ll do the best we can for you, kid.”

“Yeah,” said Reaves over his shoulder. “But with Easton, don’t hold your breath.”

They sauntered toward Easton, who’d come with three attendants. He’d changed into a red outfit with reflective stripes up and down both tunic and breeches, and his modular shield and weapon had gilded highlights. Somebody’d spent time on the case, and that probably meant they hadn’t skimped on the insides either.

For all that, Easton looked like somebody’s lap dog facing a pair of Rottweilers as Morseth and Reaves approached him. He wouldn’t be fighting Morseth and Reaves, though.

I wasn’t afraid, really: I’ve gotten thumped in the past, especially before I got my full growth. Odds were I was going to get thumped again, is all.

 

Iron Angels – Snippet 29

Iron Angels – Snippet 29

Chapter 17

After an abbreviated tour of the immediate area of the University of Chicago, Ed ushered them into one of the empty stadium-style lecture halls he used for the lower level science courses he taught.

“The University’s changed since you stumbled through here, my friend.” Ed gestured to the flat panel monitors on the wall. “Not to mention all the kids these days carry laptops, tablets, phones, you name the gadget and they’ll have one.”

Temple glanced about the hall. “Much different than the small school I attended.”

“Things couldn’t have changed that much since you attended college, what a few years back?” Ed grinned.

“Really, Ed? This guy,” Jasper thumbed toward his old professor, “thought women would fall for his Billy Dee Williams routine, but — ”

“Hey, you’re the one who invented all the Billy Dee nonsense,” Ed put up his hands as if fending off an attack. “Tell me this woman doesn’t look youthful.”

Temple averted her eyes from Ed’s and turned her head ever so slightly.

“You’re falling for this load of crap, Temple?” Jasper grinned.

“Well, I’d say Ed’s a lot classier and more refined than some people I’ve been associating with lately.”

“I like this lady,” Ed said.

Jasper shook his head. “Ed, I hate to tell you this, but Temple is about as old as you are. Well, maybe not quite as old — ”

“What is this, high school?” Vance dropped his bag on the lab-sized table and rustled through the contents.

Ed coughed. “This guy right here, this so-called Special Agent, once raised his hand during a lecture and asked — ”

“Yeah, a truly painful and boring lecture,” Jasper said, laughing, “I said something like, ‘Hey Lando, is it true you just made a deal to keep quality education out of here forever?”

“You believe this guy?” Ed chuckled, deep and good-natured.

“I don’t — oh, I get it, Billy Dee, Lando from Empire Strikes Back,” Temple said. “What did you do?”

“I answered him like Lando, and even got the line correct.” Ed smiled broadly.

“Hey guys?” Vance peered at them from behind his bag of whatever, a gigantic grin on his face. “Let’s talk science.”

Temple, Jasper, and Ed laughed long and hard.

“What?” Vance looked at each of them in turn and held up a sample he’d taken from one of the scenes they’d visited.

“Forget it,” Jasper wiped tears from his eyes. “Ed, I’m gonna sober this up a bit — we’re investigating a few disturbing matters with bizarre occurrences we’d like to run by you.”

Ed’s brow furrowed. He clunked the metal thermos down on the table and pulled a pair of glasses from the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Ed ignored Jasper and peered over octagonal framed glasses at Vance. “You seem eager to discuss science, at least.”

Ed reached for the sample and peered at the liquid within the vial. “Light pink in color, non-viscous in appearance. What am I looking at here?”

“Well,” Vance said, “this was the only liquid found at a crime scene, the remains of a human. I also found — ”

Ed turned to Jasper. “You didn’t mention anything about human remains. Was this a murder?” He’d turned deadly serious and professor-like on a dime.

“We can’t figure out what is happening,” Jasper said. “It’s beyond my understanding.”

“Perhaps you should start from the beginning. Provide me some perspective, you might say.” Ed spread his arms wide, palms up.

“Coffee,” Jasper said, “I’m in need of some good coffee, preferably a dry cappuccino.”

“Oh, sure,” Ed said, “and here’s a profiterole. I can get you some coffee, can’t vouch for the quality.”

“Couldn’t be any worse than the battery acid forced upon me on the way over here.” Jasper frowned at Temple.

“You’re such a whiny coffee snob. You don’t like what I brought, get up earlier and make your own.”

“I’m liking Ms. Black still more,” Ed said.

Jasper got his coffee, and they briefed the entire affair to Ed and what they’d witnessed and found so far.

The lecture hall was still and devoid of any sound. Ed sat, an intense expression on his face. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke. “I’m not sure I’m following the part with the haze and the dragon and these, what did you call them?”

“She called them demons,” Jasper said. “I’m not sure that part of this equation is even real. Did we imagine fantastic creatures? Or perhaps the mist congealed in such a way — ”

“No. I don’t think so,” Temple said. “You obviously aren’t familiar with certain books of the Bible.”

“I have read the Bible, you know.” Jasper folded his arms.

Temple huffed. “This is fire and brimstone stuff. I can’t help but think we need to pay attention and not dismiss a possible Biblical origin of these… creatures, if the word ‘demon’ bothers you too much.”

“I’m not disputing any of your religious beliefs.” Jasper sipped at his coffee. “But too many other factors exist. You’re acting like this is the start of the End Times, for crying out loud.”

“And why not? God promised not to send another flood, but — ”

“Yes, yes. I’m familiar with that part of Genesis,” Jasper said.

“But he didn’t make a covenant not to send forth demons and therefore pave the way for the second coming of Christ, did he?”

Jasper threw his arms up.

“I’m not sure I understand why the Bureau is getting involved in this,” Ed interrupted, peering over his glasses. “I didn’t think you investigated murders, unless they involved something like national security.”

“Oh, allow me to explain,” Jasper said. “Temple and Vance are assigned to SAG.” He let the acronym hang —

“SAG? Like Screen Actors — ”

“All right,” Temple said. “I can’t help the acronym. SAG wasn’t my first choice but people at headquarters have zero imagination. SAG stands for Scientific Anomalies Group. And by the way, Jasper is assigned to us now as well, and I am his supervisor — ”

“Temporarily assigned,” Jasper added.

Ed rotated the vial in his fingers. “Vance, if what you told me is correct, well — this would be the discovery of a lifetime. You’re talking alien life, alien elements. I can’t even imagine how such chemistry could exist on our world.”

“It could if supernatural forces were involved,” Temple said.

“You mean divine intervention?” Jasper shook his head. “And why would God send some terrible creature, one resembling a Chinese style dragon, down here to digest people outside its body? Can you explain that?”

“I didn’t say anything about divine intervention,” Temple replied.

Ed flipped through a textbook lying on the table. “All right, are any of the materials you’ve shown me here classified information?”

“No. I haven’t made any of this classified,” Temple said. “So far, this is a criminal investigation, not national security.”

“In my mind,” Jasper said, “our discussions have no choice but go down the path of weaponization.”

“I don’t think so,” Vance and Ed said at the same time then regarded one another, as if in unspoken respect.

“I’m no scientist, but if Temple asserts divine — or satanic, whatever — intervention in the daily lives of people and Vance asserts alien elements? Well, I’m afraid the government, and specifically the military would say otherwise. Almost everything has weapon potential.”

Temple smacked the table. “That is the whole reason I’m not classifying anything right now. I want to keep all talk of aliens off the radar.”

Jasper pursed his lips. “Damn. I hadn’t thought of that angle. Good call, Temple. Withholding information from headquarters, since they typically stick their noses in places they shouldn’t.” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing really, only that you’re headquarters, right? And SAG is sticking its nose in fieldwork. But you’re rather not like them, you’re not even close to resembling standard HQ bureaucrats.”

“Gee, thanks for the compliment,” Vance said, “I think.”

Jasper shook his head. “We’re letting speculation get too far ahead of us. As of now, mangled bodies are our only concrete evidence.”

“I wish I’d seen the specimens in person,” Ed said.

“Specimens? I’m not so sure.” Jasper made a face. “It’s one thing to view bodies and speak of bodies in a clinical manner, but on a crime scene, when they’re bloody and mangled, well — ”

“Yes,” Temple added, “when confronted with the brutality of man directly, it’s sobering.”

“Horrific, I’m sure, but you didn’t witness the acts.” Ed peered at them from over his glasses. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to diminish or downplay any of what you’ve all been through.”

“I witnessed two men incinerate themselves by way of thermite.”

Ed winced. “Sorry. Nasty stuff. I can’t imagine a human being making a conscious decision to end their life in such a horrible manner.”

“Me, either.” Jasper’s shoulders twitched, as if suppressing a shiver. “I saw what the stuff did to metal during my time in the Marines.”

“All right. Let’s discuss what we actually have here.” Vance spread a line of photos on the table. “This is what the bodies looked like.”

Ed leaned over the photographs and picked up a magnifying glass. After perhaps a minute of examining the images, he said: “If I didn’t know better, and without getting overly technical, I’d say this was an attempt to digest food outside the body.”

“My thought as well,” Vance said.

“But what kind of creature is capable of such destruction?” Temple demanded. “Certainly no land animal I’ve ever heard of.”

“Man, for one, though I don’t want to believe a man or men performed such heinous acts,” Jasper said. “But we talked about a few possibilities last night, while stomping around the old man’s backyard. You mentioned a sea creature, didn’t you, Temple?”

“Close enough.” Ed kept his head down, continuing his examination of the photographs. “Certain types of starfish are known to extend their stomachs outside their bodies.”

“I’m not a biologist. Not by any stretch, but are there any land animals capable of this?” Temple asked.

“Fungi are saprobrionts and engage in extracellular digestion. But this is odd and combined with the samples you provided and from all you’ve told me, well, the lack of foreign digestion enzymes precludes an entire line of reasoning and type of animal. However, the evidence does suggest an animal that savages its prey.”

Temple stood straighter, leaning back a little from the photographs. “But we never saw an animal.”

“It has to be an animal,” Jasper said. “There is no other explanation.”

“I disagree,” Vance said. “I found material suggesting an alien world.”

“Are you saying we’re being invaded by aliens from another world?” Jasper asked. “Look, aren’t we getting carried away? Innocent people died at the hands of what we believe are a cult operating in the area.”

“What, all the sudden you’re buying into the cult idea?” Temple asked. “Seriously?”

“After the van last night and the proximity to the Euclid Hotel, linking the kidnapping with the first one, the little girl, is easy. Look,” Jasper said, “I’m accepting the initial theories you proposed when we first met. As I was saying, we have insanely carried out suicides, kidnapped people — one living and one dead, and two other dead bodies, both human, but mangled beyond recognition. And we’re worrying about aliens and demons? Am I the crazy one here? How about we focus on reality; what lies within the realm of possibility on earth?”

“Relax, folks.” Ed placed a hand on Temple’s shoulder, and she didn’t flinch or attempt to pull away. “Jasper’s got a point, but how about this: we ask another type of expert around here, an astrophysicist. Also, I’m gonna suggest Vance stick around. We should take all of the material you’ve gathered and run some more conclusive tests in my lab.”

“An astrophysicist? Why?”

“Vance said that some of the material he collected points beyond our world, and should be examined, no? I’m not discounting anything at this point,” Ed said. “But, and this is my opinion as a non-law enforcement type, you all should be on the street trying to find the cult members. Makes me not want to leave Chicago. You Indiana folks are just plain weird.”

“I’m not from Indiana,” Jasper said. “But going out and catching bad guys is exactly what I’d like to do, and we have other leads to follow-up on.”

Ed grinned. “Now you’re sounding like some cop show on television.”

“I’d be impressed if you somehow came up with answers as fast as they do on all the crime scene investigation shows on TV,” Jasper said.

“I thought the FBI crime lab was world class. Why not use them rather than me then, wise guy?” Ed removed his glasses.

“Come on, really? They’re good, but if you need an answer now, not so much.”

“So true,” Temple added.

“Indeed,” Vance said, “why do you think Temple brought me on to her team?”

“You and I both know, my friend.” She winked at Vance. “This was not only my last chance, but yours.”

That was so true, also. They’d both been misfits — well, Vance was. For her part, Temple had pissed off all the wrong folks along the way, even though her case work had been outstanding over the years. Hers was a permanent exile to headquarters. Vance still had a shot at a normal career, whatever that was in the modern day Bureau.

“I’ve missed quite a few things, I think.” Ed twirled his glasses. “Does the plan work for you?”

“Yes, let’s ask this physicist of yours, but how about later? We’ll leave Vance here with you.”

“This’ll likely take most of the day,” Ed said. “How about you guys come back this evening, we’ll chat and grab some drinks?”

Jasper grinned; glad the topic of drinks came up. “Hey Billy.”

“Will you please stop with the Lando crap?” Despite the harsh sounding warning, Ed was all smiles — Temple could tell he loved this sort of banter and doubted any of his professor and scientist buddies acted like this around him.

“You know, speaking of drinks,” Jasper said, “I hear there are two rules to having a good time.”

Vance was looking confused again.

Temple rolled her eyes. “Jasper thinks he’s a real comedian with all these Billy Dee Williams jokes. You probably don’t remember those beer commercials Billy Dee did back in the day, Vance. It isn’t that funny, so don’t worry about it.”

“What?” protested Jasper. “Come on, that was a pretty good joke. Even Lando thought so.”

Temple smiled. “Me, I think Ed is more attractive than Lando Calrissian, just the way he is — and I’m guessing, and really going out on a limb here, way more intelligent.”

“Why, thank you.” Ed stood taller, beaming.

“Though, I’m not sure how much given your choice of friends.” Temple rolled her head, aiming her gaze at Jasper.

 

Chain of Command – Snippet 21

Chain of Command – Snippet 21

Chapter Ten

7 December 2133 (ten hours later) (fourteen days from K’tok orbit)

Sam’s relationship with Captain Huhn had proved as constant and predictable as the energy output of an eruptive variable star.

The day after the attack, and after the first promising conversation, Huhn had ignored Sam when in the same room and sent a series of increasingly brusque orders by commlink.

The next day Chief Navarro had given Sam a badly needed education in his duties.

The day after that Huhn had called Sam to his cabin during the afternoon watch, delivered his rambling monologue about his trust in Larry Goldjune having vanished, and sent Sam away with the admonition that the two of them needed to stick together in the face of their “enemies.”

For the entire next day and the following one, Huhn remained in his cabin with orders not to be disturbed except for contact with the enemy or incoming communications addressed to him. Sam should handle everything else. Those were the two days before the scheduled rendezvous with Combined Task Force One. Sam knew that Huhn and Goldjune had been close and Goldjune turning on him must have shaken the captain up badly. He hadn’t know the cause of the break then, but he now suspected that Ensign Lee’s take on Huhn freezing on the auxiliary bridge the day of the attack was at the core of it. Lee had shared her thoughts with Marina Filipenko; wouldn’t she do the same with her department head and lover?

Six hours after Sam’s conference with Commander Atwater-Jones in the afternoon of the rendezvous, Puebla and the other boats of their division–Destroyer Division Three–received a tight-beam burst transmission to be ready for a holo-briefing by senior staff of the task force in two hours. The briefing would include the command teams of all four DDRs of DesDiv Three: USS Oaxaca, Tacambaro, Queretaro, and Puebla, all patched into the same virtual conference space. Each DDR’s command team was limited to three officers: captain, executive officer, and Tac Boss.

Perhaps Huhn would settle down after the briefing–it had only been five days since the attack, only five days of war. They knew the barest outline of a plan but no details, few specifics of what they were expected to do beyond hang back with Hornet and act as a reserve. Maybe this briefing would do the trick, give Huhn something to focus on. Sam hoped so.

Whatever animosity he had felt toward Delmar Huhn had faded, although he could not say why. He felt no affection for the captain, not even sympathy. Instead it was as if Sam drove an aged ground car across the desert and Del Huhn was its engine–sputtering, overheating, losing power. He felt no emotions for the engine except anxiety and desperation to keep it running until he reached safety.

Perhaps it would have been different if Huhn had stalked the boat, finding fault with officers and crew, delivering harangues, but Sam had not seen him in almost three days. As far as he knew no one had, except probably the mess attendants who delivered his meals. The captain communicated occasionally by voice commlink, more often simply by text memos. Perhaps Sam’s animosity had faded because Del Huhn seemed to have faded.

Twenty minutes later, Sam’s commlink vibrated and he squinted up the ID tag of Yeoman Fischer.

“What’s up, Fischer?”

Sir, the captain said to ping you and say you won’t need to show for the holo-briefing. Lieutenant Goldjune will take your slot.

“Understood. Thanks, Fischer.”

Now that was odd. As far as Sam knew, the task force staff’s instructions had been specific. Huhn must have gotten permission to change the line-up. And had he patched things up with Larry Goldjune? Possibly. Or maybe he’d rather be surrounded by fellow-regulars, not a reservist like Sam.

He tasted something sour, felt his face flush as resentment bubbled up within him. He should be in that briefing, goddamnit –either as executive officer or as Tac Boss. Huhn turning the tactical department over to Filipenko was asking for trouble. She was smart enough, but so far she hadn’t shown the fire in her to own the job rather than just go through the motions. What was Huhn thinking? What was that coward, that pathetic emotional cripple, ever thinking about but his own sense of aggrieved entitlement?

Sam leaned back and took a deep, shuddering breath.

Damn! Get a grip.

Right, it wasn’t about Del Huhn’s grievances or disappointments, and it wasn’t about his either. It was just about the boat.

So suck it up, Bitka.

Sam looked at his desk display. He had been in the middle of finishing the certifications for promotion of seven petty officers. Two of them, including Joyce Menzies, were to fill chief slots they badly needed to fill–actually were just formal confirmation of the acting promotions they’d already made. He already had his hands full with work that needed doing, right?

He looked around at the walls of the office, set to mimic the view from a small island in the Pacific, kilometers of slowly rolling ocean stretching all the way to a horizon made indistinct by low scattered clouds.

“This job stinks.” he told the ocean.

He shook his head, pushed the mass of contradictory thoughts and emotions aside, and got back to work.

*****

An hour and forty minutes later, when the holo-conference was to start, Sam’s commlink vibrated and he heard the ID tone of Captain Huhn.

“Yes, sir?”

Bitka, I know you think your paperwork should take precedence but I need you to helmet up for the briefing.

“Aye, aye, sir, if that’s what you want.”

Of course it’s what I want. Why else would I say it?

“Well, Yeoman Fischer told me you wanted Lieutenant Goldjune to take my place, sir, but I’m happy to sit in.”

Sam snapped on his helmet and immediately found himself in the holo-conference, flanked by Huhn’s virtual self to his left and Filipenko’s to his right. Both of them looked embarrassed and he saw a variety of grins and scowls on the other faces, which made him realize he had been live to the conference during his exchange with Huhn. What had the captain said earlier that made Sam’s words so embarrassing?

“I’ll have to speak with Yeoman Fischer,” Huhn said with anger in his voice. “There was apparently a misunderstanding.”

Ah! Huhn must not have gotten permission to alter the conference attendee list, then when he’d been called on it had lied, and then had his lie exposed.

“I may have misunderstood, sir,” Sam said. Whoever was at fault, it sure as hell wasn’t Yeoman Fischer. Better for Sam to take the heat.

“Very well,” Huhn said without looking at him.

Commander Bonaventure–Captain Tall, Dark, and Greasy, as Jules had once described him–captain of Oaxaca and commander of the Third Destroyer Division (ComDesDiv Three in Navy parlance), sat with his team to Huhn’s left. The virtual images of the command teams of Tacambaro and Queretaro sat to Filipenko’s right, all of them forming a shallow crescent.

The images of three senior officers faced them, floating slightly below their level and looking up. Two wore the white shipsuits of US Navy officers. The man on the right was vaguely familiar but Sam did not recognize the short, stocky, and formidable-looking woman in the center, who was clearly in charge. She wore the four stripes of a full captain–not the job, but the rank, one step short of an admiral Her hair was gray, her expression ferocious, and her build reminiscent of a fireplug.

 

Iron Angels – Snippet 28

Iron Angels – Snippet 28

Chapter 16

Jasper slouched in the passenger seat eyes masked by sunglasses, sipping black coffee, and judging by the wrinkled nose hating every second of the burnt liquid. He glanced at Temple.

“I have no time to baby you,” she glanced back at him, “and by the way, nine a.m. is not early.”

“I suppose, but bearing foul coffee did nothing to improve upon the early call.” He slouched in his seat. “Where in the hell did you get this crap, anyway? And you know what?”

“I’m listening.” Temple grinned.

“You’re too made-up,” Jasper lifted his sunglasses, “and well, perky for this time of the morning.”

“Excuse me? Made. Up?” She didn’t bother looking at him, but kept her eyes on the road. “Stop your bitching and tell me which way I’m heading. This is your neck of the woods, not mine, remember? Oh, and by the way, you look like shit. Perky my rear end, never been accused of that once.”

“I’m trying to sleep back here, you two mind?” Vance protested from the back seat.

“From here on I foresee a productive morning with no arguments or strife.” Temple focused on the road, but Jasper sat up —

— put the passenger side window down and dumped the coffee she’d picked up for him.

“Such foul stuff,” Jasper said.

“Hey!” Vance cried from the back seat.

Jasper turned and looked at Vance who wiped at his face and hair frantically.

“You ass,” Vance said.

Jasper slumped and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Vance, really. I didn’t mean to splash the nastiness on you.”

“You should rush me to the burn unit — ”

“See, Vance? Now that comment was funny.” Jasper grinned.

“Put the window up,” Temple chided. “It’s like I’m driving a couple of arguing brats to school.”

“Yes, mother,” Jasper said, “but don’t you believe in air conditioning? I’m roasting.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so why aren’t you using it, then?” Jasper returned to the slouched position.

“It’s morning, and it’s not yet sweltering. And I’m cold.” She paused. “And I’m driving.”

“Fine, but I didn’t ask you to drive.”

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t picked you up, it would have been lunch time before you dragged yourself to the office.”

“It is the weekend still, you know. I was up even later trying to explain to my boss, Johnson, why he needed to get a team out to recover that body behind the shed. And then I received a phone call from ASAC Masters. Not happy, but they complied. I’m walking a tightrope with my executive management. Oh, and we’re lucky my contact agreed to meet with us.”

“Thanks for talking your office into assisting. Didn’t you say the contact lived near the campus?”

“Well, yeah,” Jasper said.

“So quit your bellyaching — you’re already up and might as well get into the spirit of things,” Temple said.

Jasper dialed her in and they made their way over to Chicago.

“You know, this area we’re driving through, Hyde Park, is sort of known for its cultural diversity. African-Americans are known to — ”

“Known to what?” Temple asked forcefully.

“Uh, live in this area? The Obamas lived here.”

“And?”

“Nothing, I guess.”

“Hyde Park also at one time tried to keep black people out,” Temple said. “And I don’t want to hear about South Shore and Farrakhan either, that’s close by too, right? I’m a Christian, you know, so why would I give a damn about Farrakhan?”

“I never brought him up.” Jasper shrunk in his seat.

“Spare me the lessons in black history,” she said. “But it’s nice to see that apparently someone has been paying attention to the Bureau’s black history month.”

“Wiseass, and it’s African-American appreciation month.”

“Pfft. You really have been paying attention.” Temple laughed and smacked the steering wheel. “But how about this: Why don’t you tell me about this guy we’re meeting, this biochemist buddy of yours, before we get there. That’d be swell.”

Temple grinned, knowing Jasper would be thankful for the change of topic. Why did he think she’d care about Hyde Park, anyway? Simply because she was black? That’d be like her telling him something about backwoods rednecks while traipsing around the Ozarks.

Was she that sensitive to get upset over the Hyde Park nonsense? Not really, and even she had grown tired of the Bureau’s weak attempts at diversity awareness.

“Not much to tell,” Jasper said into the window. “He wasn’t exactly a buddy back then, but a professor of mine. We became friends later.”

“Oh? He an older man?”

“Why,” Jasper glanced over at Temple, “you have a thing for older men?”

“Oh, but she does,” Vance chimed in from the back seat. “Tell him about the old guy from HQ that — ”

“Vance?” Temple glared at him in the rearview mirror. “You’d do yourself a favor if you keep that trap of yours shut.”

“A pleasant start to the day,” Vance said. “Donuts, some chiding, and coffee — which I received in the face I might add.”

“I agree.” Jasper grinned. “So, back to my old professor. He’s become a friend over the years, especially since I got assigned to the Merrillville Residence Agency.”

“This old coot got a name?”

“Ed White.”

“Sounds like your standard crusty old white guy.”

Jasper snorted, and pushed himself up. “Ed isn’t all that old. Let’s see, he was in his early thirties when I met him. So he’d be in his mid to late forties now.”

“Oh,” Temple said, realizing at once how that sounded.

“Ah ha, so you do wish he were older. How interesting,” Jasper said.

Vance tapped on Jasper’s seat. “Oh, that’d be so perfect.”

“What?” Temple asked, annoyed.

“Black and White,” Vance said. “You see? Your name is Black, and his is — ”

“Yeah,” Temple said, “I get it. You’re a riot, now sit back and shut up.”

Jasper burst out laughing.

Temple shook her head. “I’m dealing with juveniles here. Okay, children. Not another word until we get there, and no uncouth or childish jokes please, we’re professionals.” Temple glanced in the rear view mirror. “And Vance? You’re not amusing.”

“All right, we’re almost there,” Jasper said. “Turn down this street right here and try to find a spot. It’s early enough and a weekend, so we shouldn’t have too much trouble. There he is, he’s waiting for us.”

“Where?” Temple asked.

Jasper laughed.

Temple parked. Jasper hopped out and headed toward a middle-aged black man who was perched against a nearby fire hydrant. The man rose, smiling, and extended his hand to take Jasper’s.

“Ed, how in the hell are you? Still carrying that beat up old thermos, I see.”

Inside the car, Temple spent a few seconds silently cursing herself. Without ever thinking about it, she’d just assumed a biochemistry professor at the University of Chicago would be white.

She got out of the car and headed toward them, Vance trailing behind her. “This is Ed, I take it,” she said.

Jasper nodded. “Ed, these are my colleagues, Vance Ravel and Temple Black. And this is Edwin White, but as you can see, he is — ”

“Yeah, all right,” Temple said, “you got me. Ha ha.” Lord above, was that boy’s face one hundred percent full of smug right now.