Forge of War (Jack of Harts) (28 page)

Jack frowned in thought.  “How do you fare against the other fighter squadrons on New Earth?  I assume you fly against them in sims?”

The Devilcat cleared his throat.  “Well, we usually cooperate, actually.  Our better pilots take on their pilots and the rest of us…well…we normally have plans for what
we
are going to do.”

Jack blinked and aimed a puzzled gaze at Betty.  She waved her hand towards one of the screens and he read it.  The Devilcats had a forty percent win rating against the other squadrons on New Earth, well above the Do Not Qualify rating.  Which meant either the squadrons on New Earth really sucked, or the Devilcats were really tricky.  For the moment, having seen the other squadrons in action against the Chinese and the Shang, he was going to assume the latter.

“Impressive,” Jack said

“Thank you.”  The Devilcat sounded pleased.  “I like plans that take advantage of my enemies’ weakness.  Always much more reliable than flying in and hoping to get lucky.”

Jack pursed his lips in thought, and smiled as his next question came to mind.  “So what do you think happened in this test?”

“I don’t know your weaknesses,” the Devilcat said with what seemed like a verbal shrug.  “And you’re real lucky.”

Jack looked at Betty and she shrugged.  He shrugged back in agreement.  “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“So how do you do it?” the Devilcat asked, a truly inquisitive tone to his voice.  “I mean, the way you moved at the end.  We couldn’t shake you.”

Jack turned a smile towards Betty.  “We’re a team.  We know what we’re going to do before we do it and just…do it.  I’m sure your cyber could explain it if you’re interested.”

“So you’re one of those ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ guys?”

Jack chuckled.  “Pretty much.”

“So what were you arguing about?”

Jack shifted in his seat and sent a questioning look Betty’s way.  She nodded.  “Oh, how to tell you that you weren’t going to be a Cowboy,” Jack said, not sugarcoating things.

“I see.  Did she read you the riot act?”

Jack chuckled and looked away from Betty.  “Yes, actually.”

“Cybers
are
good at rounding out our rougher edges, aren’t they?”

Jack smiled.  “Yes.”

“Tell me, have you ever regretted listening to her?”

Jack looked at Betty and chewed his lip as she awaited his answer with wide-eyed interest.  He sighed.  “No, I suppose I haven’t.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve
missed
not doing things because she’s talked me out of it…” He trailed off and studied her form for nearly a second.  “But I can’t say I
regret
any of the times I listened to her.”

“That’s what I thought.  So what do you suggest I do?”

Jack thought for a moment.  “Do you love flying?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then maybe TRANSCOM.  Flying transports may not be as glorious as fighters, but I can guarantee that you’ll be dodging fewer missiles.”

“Yeah, I suppose a big, clumsy transport
would
dodge fewer missiles,” the Devilcat answered.

Jack cleared his throat.  “That’s
not
what I meant.”

“I know,” the Devilcat answered with a chuckle.  “But you
did
leave yourself wide open there.”

“True.”  Jack frowned and looked at Betty as an idea came to mind.

She pursed her lips, cocked her head to the side, and nodded.

“You know,” Jack began in a casual tone.  “It occurs to me you know the people in your squadron, and who is best at flying.  Could you give me a list of all the pilots you’ve never beaten in sims?  And those you’ve only beaten rarely?”

“Yes, I suppose I could,” the Devilcat said with a guarded tone.

Jack smiled.  The man was suspicious of the change in the subject.  Good.  “Could you also give me a list of those you think would make good Cowboys?”

Silence answered him for several seconds before the Devilcat spoke again.  “I believe I could, if you told me what qualifications you were looking for.”

Jack’s smile grew in pleasure and he nodded at Betty.  The guy really
did
have a quick mind, even if his piloting reflexes were out the airlock.  “Well, first of all, we’re looking for somebody who wants to go home after this is done and settle down.  People with something to
live
for.  We don’t need any Big Damn Heroes out there.”  He met Betty’s gaze and sighed.  “We don’t want people who have a score to settle.”

Betty’s smile softened at his admission.

“I think I know what you’re looking for after all,” The Devilcat pilot said, his tone sounding pleased.  “I’ll have a report to you by this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Jack answered automatically, his mind already considering what to do next.  For one, he began to consider that if Devilcat Ten gave him good intel here, he just might be able to find a position for the man after all.  “You are dismissed to return to base,” he added in a more formal tone.

“Roger,” Devilcat Ten answered and banked back towards Leif Erikson Spacebase.

Jack followed the Hellcat’s progress until it dwindled to a dot in the sky before shaking his head.  “That was unexpected.”

Betty just smiled.

“OK.  You told me so.”

Her smile broadened and he shook his head as the sensors detected another Hellcat burning towards his position.  He checked the screens to verify that it was Hellcat Eleven and nodded.

“This is Cowboy Five to Hellcat Eleven,” he transmitted.  “You may try to kill me now.”

Father Knows Best

A dim red star shone alone in the night sky, bathing the streets with soft red light.  Streetlights and storefronts drove the red away in their vicinity, everything else looked reddish.  Men and women, some in suits coming from work or late New Years parties and others in plain clothes, filed down the sidewalks.  Some on bikes or boards flew down the street, and larger vehicles floated by overhead, sometimes coming down to land in front of a store, constant beeps warning of their approach.  Landing City never slept according to everything he’d heard, and this night proved those stories true.

Jack walked down the sidewalk, his arm crooked out and Samantha’s slid into it.  It felt good to just be walking with her.  They walked by a store playing a song and Jack recognized it.  His mind went back to the beach and bonfire and Taylor and Jennifer singing for a moment and he began to hum the tune with their recorded voices.

“I
love
that song,” Samantha murmured, her head against his shoulder pulling him back to the present.

Jack let his humming fade away and pulled in a long breath.  “Me too.”  He swallowed.  “We used to listen to them all the time back home.  Playing music on the beach and just having a good time.”

Samantha leaned closer to him and he felt her breath on his neck.  “So you’re a fan of T&J, huh?”

Jack chuckled and spread his free arm out wide in a grand gesture.  “My Dear, I am one of the
charter
members of the T&J fan club!”

Samantha hugged his arms tighter.  “Me too,” she whispered.  He looked down at her in disbelief.  “Really,” she said in response with a wry smile.  “I have one of their pre-production vids.  From before they got signed.  I’ve been watching them ever since I got it.  They’ve got talent.”

Jack smiled, and for a moment he was back in the study, listening to them record their old vids.  He nodded.  “Yes, they do.”

She shook her head.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I wish we could go see them.  I had tickets for their concert but…” she shrugged.  “I didn’t want to go alone so I gave them to a girlfriend.”

Jack smiled and let out a long breath.  “Well then, we’ll just have to get some new ones if you want to go,” he said with a chuckle.

Samantha sighed.  “They’ve been sold out since before you got here.”

Jack chuckled again.  “We’ll have to do something about that then.  Betty, could you ask them for backstage tickets for me, plus one?”

“Of course, Jack,” her voice answered for both to hear.

Samantha gave him a confused voice.  “Jack, they’re
sold out
!  And they don’t just give backstage tickets to anybody who asks.”

Jack shrugged and gave her a sly smile.  “True.  But I’ll get us some.”

Samantha gave him a sad shake of her head and patted his arm.  “Jack, I’m sorry but they just don’t have anything.  Trust me.  I’ve tried, and I know all the tricks to get them.”

“You wanna bet?”

Samantha’s eyes narrowed, she cocked her head to the side, and pursed her lips in suspicion.  “I don’t know.  What do
you
wanna bet?”

Jack chuckled.  “Oh, nothing you wouldn’t approve of,” he said with a wink.

She grasped his hand in a firm grip.  “You can narrow it down a little more than that,” she said in a sweet tone.

Jack sighed and pulled in a deep breath.  “Always trying to rush me,” he said with a shake of his head.  “How about another swim on the beach?” he asked with a mischievous smile.

Samantha rolled her eyes and slapped his arm.  “Men.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered without hesitation.

She laughed and slapped his arm again.  “Very well.  If you win…if you lose…” she trailed off and cocked her head to the side in thought.  “If you lose,
you
escort
me
to a
dance
.”

Jack chuckled.  “Sounds like a win-win to me.”

Samantha snorted.  “You haven’t
been
to one of them.”

Jack aimed a charming smile at her.  “Ah, but on
your
arm,
any
party would be better.”

Samantha patted his arm.  “Flatterer.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered without hesitation.

“So, Mister Flatterer, would you like to walk me home?”

Jack looked at the busy street going through the center of downtown around them with a thoughtful gaze.  “Either you live really close or you like long walks.”

Samantha smiled.  “Didn’t we already establish that I like long walks?”

“Ah, but
that
was because we took so many breaks down on the beach.”

“True.  So which would you prefer?  Live close or long walk?”

Jack gave her a mischievous smile.  “Yes.”

She bumped her hip against him.  “Well, if you like it that way, I can just let you find out when we arrive.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You know, if I felt like taking advantage of your ignorance, I could just walk in circles to lengthen the walk.”

Jack smiled.  “And if I felt like it, I could
let
you take advantage of me.”

Samantha slapped him again.  “You’re impossible.”

Jack chuckled.  “Yes, Ma’am.”  He smiled at her and shifted the arm she held.  “Would my lady accept an escort home?”

Samantha sighed and leaned her head against his chest.  “Of course, she would.”

He pulled in a deep breath in pleasure.  He would give her an eternity to stop that.

It turned out to be a long walk, and he enjoyed every second of it, right up until they came to a stop at a large gate in the middle of the oldest neighborhood on all of New Earth.  Not counting the Chinese of course.

Jack looked up at the gate in awe and scratched his chin with his free hand, deep in thought.  “This is McEntyre House,” he finally whispered.  Any fan of music had at least
heard
of McEntyre House.  McEntyre Studios published some of the best musicians on the market, and he was standing at the front gate of the
owners
of McEntyre Studios.

Samantha smiled.  “Yes it is.”

Jack studied her for several seconds.  “You
live
in McEntyre House?”

Samantha straightened her frame and ran her free hand down her blouse as if she were straightening it.  “I do.”

Jack studied her for several more seconds.  “Who
are
you?” he finally asked.

She let out a long breath and her smiled softened, but he could see worry in her eyes.  “I’m Sam.”  Her grip tightened on his arm and he realized she didn’t want him to ask again.

Jack cocked his head to the side, and chewed his lip.  If she was related to the McEntyres, she probably had experience with people who just cared about that connection, not her.  He smiled and patted her hand.  “Sam.  It’s a good name,” he whispered.

Samantha sighed and leaned her head against his chest.  He let out a long breath of his own, and would have given her an eternity to stop that.  Eternity as it happened was far too short.  The gate opened and Samantha laughed.

“I think Daddy saw us.”

Jack blinked.  “Daddy?”

“Yeah.  I think he wants to see you.”

A shiver ran down his spine.  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,” he quoted.

Samantha slapped his arm.  “Stop that.  He’s not that bad, Jack.”

Jack aimed an upraised eyebrow at her.  “Daddies are
never
that bad to their little girls.  The young punk who thinks he’s worthy of dating her though?  Daddies eat
them
for
lunch
.  And they tend to start the mixing process with shotgun shells at full rack.”

Samantha laughed at him.

“What?  You think that’s funny?  If I told you a
tithe
of my Daddy stories you would know why every boyfriend you’ve ever had has met you at the bottom of the stairs, quaking in his boots.  I’ll give you a hint.  It’s not
just
because you look beautiful in that dress.”

Samantha studied him for several seconds, brow furrowed.  “What makes you think I’ve ever been through that?”

Jack smiled back and shrugged.  “Call it a hunch.”

Samantha shook her head and pulled him through the gate.  They walked down the brick driveway, under trees that arched overhead, shielding them from the dull red star.  Jack’s eyes adjusted to the gloom and they traveled the length of the driveway without difficultly.

They walked out of the line of trees and Jack got his first clear look at the house.  The mansion.  It was a huge, Victorian-style genuine wood-built house, painted a bright white.  Jack whistled and Samantha guided him to the front entrance.  They walked up the stairs, and Jack’s boots echoed on the wood planking of the porch.

The heavy wood door opened as they approached, and Jack followed her into the house, pulling his cowboy hat off his head in reflex.  His boots echoed on the hard wood flooring, and he looked at the main entry hall in amazement.  He could feel the acoustics, and this room would be amazing with a few musicians welcoming guests.  He could hear the music bouncing off the walls and smiled.

Jack looked over at the stairs leading up to a balcony high above them.  “So this is where your quaking boyfriends waited as you walked down the stairs?” he asked with a mischievous smile.

She stopped in her tracks and just looked at him, conflicting emotions running over her face.  “Jack?”

“Yes?” he asked with a smile.

Samantha whipped out of his arm, grabbed his scarf, and pulled him down to kiss him full on the lips.  An electric shock ran through him and he stood still, rooted to the spot.  She pulled away, slipped her arm back inside his, and bumped him with her hip.

“Let’s go.”

Jack licked his lips and stepped forward with her, feeling invincible.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

Samantha guided them past the stairs and into a small hall at the end of the main entry hall.  She opened a door on the side and the soothing smell of fire and true paper books wafted out into the hall.  She pulled him in and his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting without a pause.  He scanned the room, taking in the dark wood walls and the crackling fireplace.  Books filled one of the walls from floor to ceiling and wall to wall.  The painting of a ship dominated another wall, and a beautiful rug covered the center of the hard wood flooring.

What dominated the room itself though was the red leather chair in front of the fire, and the man who sat in it.  A confident smile covered the man’s face, over a black suit and crossed legs.  This was his domain, and this man was king of it, with no worries that some upstart was going to take it from him.  Jack liked him instantly.

“You must be Jack,” the man said, waving one of the hands draped over the chair arms.

“Yes, Sir,” Jack said with a half bow.

The man shifted in his chair, head cocking back and forth with a wry smile on it.  “Which makes
you
the one hanging around my daughter lately.”  It wasn’t a question.

Jack cleared his throat.  “Sir, I think it more accurate to say that
she
chooses to spend time with
me
.”

Samantha’s father chuckled and waved his hand towards a pair of chairs under the ship painting.  “You can sit down if you’d like.”  While the man was courteous enough to speak softly, Jack recognized the command that he
would like
to sit down.

Jack stepped over and sat down in one of the very comfortable chairs while Samantha took the other.  He hung his cowboy hat off one chair arm and held her father’s gaze, keeping his back straight to show he respected the man.  “Thank you, Sir.”

Her father waved his hand and turned his head to the side as if it was nothing.  “Tell me Son, do you know how many young men try to court my daughter because they want a piece of this?” he asked, waving his hand around the room.

Jack pulled in a deep breath and considered his words for a moment.  And then he dove in with a smile.  “Sir, I’d wager that a lot of
boys
have stood at the bottom of that staircase out there, quaking in their boots because you put the fear of God in them.”

The father’s smile turned proud.  “You would be right.”