Cold Warriors Page 3

  It had been two years since his last piloted flight. Being a commander was nice, but not all it was cracked up to be. It wasn't the responsibility that bothered him, but the distance he had from the people he actually commanded. He knew there were men and women who would give their right arm to be where we was, but commanding a bird was not like flying one.

  I'd give it all up in a second if I could fly again." He sighed quietly knowing it was not going to happen.

  "Fancy meeting you here,” the CAG said approaching Keegan from behind. “Dreamin’ about the birds again?” he asked tossing his helmet to his best friend.

  Keegan caught the worn helmet and tossed it back.

  "I think I know why the caged bird sings.” he asserted with a tinge of melancholy.

  "So do I,” The CAG joked and scratched his wiry blond hair, “it's got something to do with its wings being clipped."

  "Probably.” Keegan grinned and strolled toward the CAG's craft. It had the words Lt. Col. Max Podi, The CAG, scrolled under the canopy. “Speaking of clipped wings, Hollis was pretty pissed earlier. What was that all about?"

  The CAG opened the craft's canopy and tossed his helmet inside, “One of my virgins got a bead on an enemy squadron coming out of zebra sector. His wingman said there was a lock on them and they were about to engage but our scopes picked up nothing. Then all of a sudden,” CAG slapped his massive hands together, “WHAM! They went black. Complete radio silence. I couldn't raise them on advance radar or through radio communications."

  Keegan folded his arms and leaned against the craft, “Maybe your systems are defective. Did you have them checked out?"

  CAG grinned, “Of course I did. Everything's five by five."

  Keegan shook his head knowingly, “It's hard breaking in a new squadron; they make mistakes.” His thoughts momentarily wandered back to when he used to break in new pilots in his squad. He loved every minute of it.

  "This I'm well aware of.” The CAG leaned in close, “But I'm more concerned with the artificial radiation emanating from Tau Ceti Three."

  "What?” Keegan frowned, “Are you sure? That place was cleared."

  "Looks like somebody missed something. I know a dampening field when I'm put under one. That's probably what scared the crap out of my people and explains the presence of enemy personnel."

  "So you believe them?"

  "Hell yes I do. They have no reason to lie to me."

  "You tell grandma?” Keegan asked referring to Hollis.

  "Yep."

  "And?"

  "What else? Thank you and I'll get back to you when I get back to you."

  Keegan nodded, familiar with the response. Whenever Hollis gave it, it meant she already knew about the situation and to stay out of her way. Suddenly Hollis’ remarks earlier made sense to him.

  "So,” The CAG slapped Keegan on the back, “you wanna go for a spin?"

  Keegan looked incredulously at him and smiled.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, flight crews scrambled around Launch Bay Beta, readying the Blanchard's fighters for the day's patrols. People moved hurriedly about the flight deck yelling across to each other over the den of engines and voices. Steam curled up in the air blocking the view of the myriad craft that lined the hangar. Caitlin had never seen such craft before, not even in the movies. They were sleek in their design and had a smooth surface. Some were single seat fighters, others appeared to be two seaters. Each fighter had the name of its pilot and intercept officer's name printed below the canopy.

  The bay seemed as larger than a football field and seemed just as high. She glanced around at the people and the environment, if it weren't for the planes it would seem like any other military installation she had grown accustomed to. It made her miss her husband and the life she had with him all the more. Earth was millions of miles away and so was the life she once had; still she had hope of returning to it or at least trying to pick up the pieces of her earlier life.

  She moved slowly forward in a line with eleven people dressed in a hodge podge of military and civilian clothing. It snaked around a bulky shuttle craft that had seen too many battles. She hoped she would be leaving soon. It had been two hours since someone had come into her room yelling and screaming for her and the other people to wake up.

  When she managed to look at the clock it read 0500 hours. She knew enough about military time to know that it meant five o'clock in the morning. Even when her husband got up for work in the morning he knew better than to wake her before seven. Her life had definitely changed.

  She caught sight of her reflection on a tall stack of metallic canisters. Her dark hair was long, shaggy and brittle. Her lips were chapped like she'd been out in the cold for too long and her face needed moisturizer. Lot's of it.

  She shook her head wondering why she cared. She was out in a space ship out in the middle of nowhere, probably light years away from her husband. The only thing she cared about now was getting home and finding Jason.

  A woman wearing a flight suit and carrying a clipboard walked down the line nodding at each person.

  "Back to Earth?” she asked Caitlin while staring her clipboard.

  "Yes,” she responded quickly. Curious, she tried to see what the woman was reading.

  Annoyed, the woman frowned and stepped to the next person in line.

  "Home,” Caitlin said aloud. She wondered what she was going to do once she got there. Almost a hundred years had passed since she died. And so much had changed. She heard people speak of things like C.S. departures and off world mining colonies, even aliens, proof beyond a doubt that life exists elsewhere in the universe and more importantly, interstellar travel. Feats of this magnitude were only a wistful dream in her time.

  As Caitlin approached the Ensign assigned to check the passenger list, with no ID, no money, declared legally dead and no family to speak of, she wondered how she would survive once she returned to Earth.

  "ID?” Ensign Smead asked without looking from her clipboard.

  "Umm,” she stammered and glanced at the tag on her shirt, “1169?"

  Ensign Smead glanced at her list. “Nope. You're not authorized to leave.” The Ensign rolled her eyes, “Next."

  "What?"

  Smead checked the list again. “I'm sorry Ma'am. You're not scheduled to go on this shuttle. It says you are to report to Colonel Keegan."

  "When?” Caitlin attempted to look at her notes.

  The ensign blocked her view. “Now."

  "How do I find him?” Caitlin shrugged.

  Ensign Smead sighed and grabbed a corporal that was walking by, “Take her to the XO on the double."

  "Yes Ma'am.” The corporal nodded and turned to Caitlin, “Right this way Ma'am."

  * * * *

  "I'm not going on the shuttle?” The hatch to his quarters shut slowly behind her.

  Keegan stopped writing. He looked up from his work, paused and then turned around annoyed. His angry gaze met a petite woman in her early thirties. Instantly Keegan knew she wasn't a Marine. Hell, not even military. For one, her dress was completely unacceptable. She wore an oversized green fatigue shirt and brown maintenance work pants. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her clothes weren't even pressed. And more importantly she barged in without knocking. To make matters worse, she wasn't even at attention!

  "Who are you?” he demanded recalling her face vaguely.

  "Caitlin Driskoll,” she sneered holding her plastic badge, “Or shall I say, 1169."

  Keegan tapped the keys of the computer sitting in the corner of his desk. A list of numbers scrolled on the screen and a directive flashed underneath.

  "You are to report to Dr. Bishop and then to the duty officer for your assignment."

  "And do what?” Caitlin snapped.

  Keegan blinked. He was not accustomed to this flippant behavior. “Whatever the Hell they tell you,” he answered as the words stumbled out of his mouth.

  "I am not in the military, I don't hav
e to do this.” Caitlin growled defiantly.

  His blood boiled like a caldera full of lava. It had been years since he had a confrontation with someone where rank didn't play a role. He almost liked it.

  "You do now."

  "Why?” Caitlin retorted.

  He stormed over to her seething. “Because if you want to eat,” his gravelly voice bellowed furiously throughout the room, “you'll earn your keep!"

  "I'm quite familiar with your type and you don't scare me one bit,” Caitlin shot back. “So don't treat me like I'm one of your flunkies!"

  Flunkies? Keegan suppressed a looming smile beneath his utter disbelief.

  "You will do as you're told.” He ordered unable to contain his temper.

  Caitlin looked away, her voice sounding defeated. “I thought I was going home."

  "Eventually,” Keegan stated, feeling his emotions twist and turn inside of him. Her wounded expression allowed a twinge of guilt to crawl into his mind.

  "What about my physical therapy?!” Caitlin charged. “I was told I was going to receive it."

  New spikes of anger rose out of Keegan's gut. He was a soldier and commanding officer accustomed to respect and not having to defend his decisions. And now both had been thrown into the wind. Who was this person to come barging into his quarters without permission and where does she get off questioning him? She would have to learn to follow directions just like everyone else, civilian or not.

  "That's what Dr. Bishop is for.” Keegan answered through gritted teeth. He could feel a headache coming on.

  "Why aren't I going with the others?” Caitlin pressed

  "I don't know!” Keegan roared. She was driving him crazy with all these questions. He calmed himself, “All I know is that you are to report to the duty officer."

  "Thanks for nothing.” Caitlin muttered to herself.

  Keegan stepped in close; his six-foot frame looming over her like a giant oak. “Let's get something straight Ms. Driskoll. This isn't a pleasure cruise and I'm not here to make you happy. This is a closed environment and we are at war. We all stick together or we die. And if you're not a team player, you'll be out that airlock so fast you'll explode before you say your last prayer."

  Feeling that his words were finally hitting home, Keegan straightened his posture. “Now I suggest you double time it over to the doc and then to the duty officer as I stated or all of your privileges will be revoked. Is that clear?"

  Caitlin stared at him stubbornly and didn't answer.

  "Is that clear?"

  "Crystal. Clear.” Caitlin turned to leave.

  "And Ms. Driskoll?"

  "What?” She asked without turning around.

  "Don't ever enter my quarters again without knocking.” Keegan plodded back to his desk. “You're dismissed, soldier."

  Caitlin stiffened then walked out the room. The door to his room slammed, echoing her anger throughout. He smiled, happy over the little victories that life often brought. He paused to regain his train of thought before the interruption. Still, there was something about her little tirade that stirred something deep within him. Not willing to investigate it, he shook off the notion, took some aspirin and returned to work.

  Chapter Four

  Caitlin entered the sterile atmosphere of the ship's infirmary. She meekly strolled past bed-ridden soldiers attached to various IV's. Some were filled with a clear fluid, while others were filled with a murky red liquid, which dripped slowly down a tube. Nurses attended the wounded men and women; some of whom were conscious, others were not. She had spent a great deal of time in hospitals but this one seemed different. There was an air of desperation in it that lent no space for self-pity.

  Catching the gaze of a passing nurse, Caitlin looked away feeling embarrassed. She noticed that the nurses, like most personnel on the ship, regarded her with disdain. She had yet to figure out why.

  Caitlin quickly made her way through the long compartment searching for the man responsible for waking her.

  "Well it looks like our other guest isn't going to show.” Dr. Bishop said as she approached him from behind.

  Stopping behind the physician, she observed nine timid faces staring back at her who seemed to share her confusion. Dr. Bishop turned suddenly and smiled. His kind features melted away most of her apprehension. “1169 I presume?” he asked raising a brow.

  She nodded slowly and approached the group.

  "Good. I'm glad you can join us. I was just about to apprise everyone of the situation.” He spoke in a pleasant voice.

  "Now. For those of you who don't remember, or don't know, I am Major Anthony Bishop, Chief Surgeon and head of our Mini-Science and Tactical Development Response Division on board the Blanchard. You can call me Dr. Bishop. I, along with a few medical personnel, will aide you in your adjustment back into civilization."

  Caitlin watched as Dr. Bishop paced back and forth tapping his clipboard while he spoke. His soft features and balding head were a stark contrast to Colonel Keegan's harsher ones. Unlike the Colonel, he often hesitated, like a man with a secret, before he spoke.

  * * * *

  Keegan and a fellow soldier stood stoically waiting for the occupants of the bulky gray transport shuttle to disembark. The massive door slid open with a hiss and out came a haggard looking man in his mid forties wearing fatigues. A blonde haired, fierce looking female colonel in her late thirties accompanied him. The two occupants stopped in front of them.

  He saluted. “Colonel Rizard? I'm Colonel Keegan, welcome aboard the USS Blanchard."

  "Thank you Colonel.” Rizard nodded. Her light green eyes darted about examining Keegan's features. “This is cryo number 4468."

  Keegan studied the cryo. His hair was the color of an overcast sky and it appeared his mood matched the shade of his hair. The cryo scratched his stubble and glanced at Keegan. For a second, he thought he recognized a glimmer of defiance in the cryo's eyes before he turned his gaze away.

  "If you follow the sergeant he'll show you to your quarters.” Keegan gestured to his left.

  * * * *

  Caitlin wearily fought the urge to vomit as she wearily pushed a cart full of soiled laundry from the infirmary. She left the dirty cart in the hallway and returned to the room. The soiled linen and clothes reeked of blood and sweat. Only a few aides were on duty in the part of the sickbay where the non-critically ill were kept. Mostly those who showed up were soldiers who needed a shot or had common complaints such as sore throats and runny noses. It seemed hard to believe that she was in this section herself not too long ago.

  Dr. Bishop informed her that she was doing so well, she only needed to visit the infirmary to make her daily work rounds and to see him for injections and any minor lab work. Her physical therapy was to be carried out on a deck below the sickbay.

  Depressed at her new station in life, Caitlin sighed and left the room.

  "A Masters in education and now I'm a chamber maid catering to a ship full of people who don't seem to want me around."

  She tried to concentrate on the humming of the cart's anti-gravity controls, which broke the silence of her isolation. Her long days were now filled with the constant drudgery of taking dirty laundry from sickbay and then taking clean towels and sheets back. Though she had only been doing it for a couple of hours, the round trips seemed endless.

  She had become a ghost, but still she managed to catch all the gossip that people whispered to one another. It was incredible how much people knew, or thought they knew, about each other. Her husband had said this kind of gossip was called scuttlebutt. Scuttlebutt was the muck that ran in the sewage water in the old-fashioned sea-going ships of the old navy. The other thing he told her was, that scuttlebutt tended to have an element of truth. The hard part was finding it.

  She continued pushing the anti-gravity cart down the hall and stared back at the infirmary. The cart stopped abruptly, jarring her attention forward.

  "Excuse me,” the CAG said, irritated. His large chest heaved up and
down rapidly.

  Caitlin gasped from embarrassment. She stared at his blonde, nearly platinum hair. His barrel chest made his frame appeared huge and bulky. She knew immediately that it was the Commander of the Air Group, Lieutenant Colonel Max Podi.

  His confrontational style and gruff approach was legendary on the ship, as was his friendship with Colonel Keegan.

  He eyed her incredulously, “Watch where you are going, nurse,” he snapped. His bright green eyes peered at her. “I've never seen you here before.” The CAG frowned. “You are...?"

  "I'm sorry.” she stammered. The butterflies in her stomach brought back the threat of vomiting. Caitlin held her hands over her mouth. They turned beet red.

  The CAG looked at them with curiosity and then straightened. “You're a cryo aren't you?” he asked knowingly. “What's your number?"

  He sounded a like a pissed off cowboy.

  "1169,” she answered trying not to sound too meek. Calming herself, Caitlin grew irritated at the notion of being known only by a number and not her name.

  "Be more careful next time. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, Sir.” Caitlin answered slowly.

  The CAG walked passed Caitlin. She looked back at him and sighed.

  I'd forgotten what it's like being around all these military people. Having been a navy wife she had grown accustomed to the formalities of military courtesy. But this time something was different. They treated her like a rash that wouldn't go away. She was untouchable.

  * * * *

  Keegan sat composed in the ward room with General Hollis who checked her watch periodically. “What kind of meeting is this where everyone shows up late?” Hollis complained.

  Keegan grinned briefly. “I don't know Ma'am.” He looked at the hatch just as the CAG entered. Keegan motioned for the CAG to take the empty seat beside him.

  "Thank you for joining us Mr. Podi.” Hollis growled.

  The CAG gave her an urbane nod. “It's my pleasure Ma'am,” he responded as he sat next to his friend.