Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (64 page)

He had to do the Pre-Sep Exam to be sure he would have coverage for the physical injuries he received while he was deployed, but when it came to the part of the interview that covered stress and mental state of mind, he was all rainbows, fairy dust and unicorns. A unicorn that pissed champagne and shit rainbow gumdrops, to boot. Nobody was going to label
this boy
with a mental disorder. And they looked for that - he had been warned. And darned if that prissy little bitch didn't try to come off all warm and fuzzy, helpful and caring, flirty, best-friendish, you can tell me anything... What a load of crap. Of course, he didn't fall for it. Although the proposition of getting a free ride was attractive and he could easily see how someone who wasn't properly informed could get roped into it. The questions baited him toward answers that would allow them to categorize him as having any kind of lifelong disability, whether it be physical or mental, like PTSD. Their aim was to be able to prescribe medications to service members that would put them at risk for compromising their freedoms, negating them as a threat to the governmental administration.

One of the guys in Chase's unit that got out about four months before him, got a letter in the mail from the Department of Veterans Affairs, about three months after his Pre-Sep Exam. The letter explained that it had been determined he was incompetent to handle his own financial affairs and that someone had been appointed to handle his affairs for him.
At his own expense!
In addition to that, it said the determination of incompetency will prohibit him from purchasing, possessing, receiving, or transporting a firearm or ammunition.
What?!
In a later, but related development, they refused to issue over ten-thousand dollars, in back military deployment pay, until he signed a release for accepting the financial consultant. In fine military fashion, he gave them rather detailed instructions on how to proceed with a self - rectal colon exam with an M203 grenade launcher, and got a good lawyer - a retired Air Force Colonel that his father knew.

And that wasn't the only one, Chase had heard of others. Many others. Veterans Affairs even interviewed the spouses, and in some cases, had tried to declare the spouse incompetent as well, threatening to remove children from the home.

It was despicable, that a government would treat its military like that. But the government has never really liked the military, they just consider it a lesser of evils.

It's a clear violation of the Fifth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, that states,
that no person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law.
And let's not forget taking away a guy's Second Amendment rights after he fought and bled for the safety and security of the country. It just wasn't right. Maybe that was what was bothering Chase. There seemed to be a lot of governmental overreaching lately. And it seemed to be getting more and more egregious. Like the Attorney General and the Secretary of Homeland Security calling returning vets possible domestic terrorists. Along with; Second Amendment supporters, Pro-Life supporters, anyone from a Christian faith... and the list seemed to expand on a regular basis to include new groups of people the government didn't trust. He was convinced the Division of Homeland Security had been developed to deal with nearly twenty years of military members returning from combat. What else could they possibly be for? To guard the government from the men who would rebel against the coming loss of freedoms they fought so hard to maintain and protect. It seemed the government was gearing up for a war, with its own people.

And anyone who could say it
has never
and
could never
happen here, was simply ignoring history. Or ignorant of it. The Japanese American Internment camps created during World War II, were a prime example.

Sleep was not coming easily, but then again his mind seemed to be resisting all efforts to shut down. He wasn't about to give up. Until he heard it again... His eyes popped open as he listened, and Allie jumped off the bed, her ears up. He could see her shape in the darkness as she turned her head to look in his direction. “Did you hear that too?” he whispered. In response, she trotted out of the bedroom, rounding the corner to head out into the living room.

Probably a raccoon.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, throwing off the sheets. He couldn't sleep anyway. Maybe some milk and cookies. When Allie jumped up on the windowsill of the picture window in the living room with her front paws, peering through the vertical blinds, he paused. When he heard her soft, throaty rumble he backtracked into the bedroom, lifting his .40 cal Glock off the dresser, grabbing a small tactical flashlight.

“
OK, Allie, let's go outside...”

In sleep-shorts and a t-shirt, Chase Holt stepped barefoot out onto the damp concrete of his front stoop, peering out into the dense fog rolling through his quiet neighborhood. He watched Allie out of the corner of his eye while scanning the front yard, “You stay here with me,” he whispered. He knew that if she went more than twenty feet, she'd disappear in the mist. They both swung right when they heard the noise in the bushes, Chase extending his free hand to the side to stay Allie from jumping ahead.
“Stay...”
he hissed. Her head was down, peering into the wall of gray, her ears rotating back and forth, searching for sound. The flashlight would be useless in this soup.

“
Who's out here?” he barked, “step out before I shoot your stupid ass...”

Allie growled, shifting uneasily.

“Chase?” came the reply, barely a whisper.

“
Who the
fuck
is out here...” demanded Chase

“
It's me, Dan. I'm coming out, don't shoot me,” he whispered. His shape appearing as a gray blob from between the house and the bushes.

“
Dude,”
whispered Chase, lowering the Glock to his side, “what the hell are you doing out here? At three-thirty?
In my goddamn bushes?”
Allie's head came up, her posture changing, her tail swaying gently.

“
Sorry Brother, I didn't want to wake you...”

“
Wake me? You're not making any sense. You came all the way over here at three-something in the morning to not wake me? And hide in my bushes? That's fucked up,” he added, looking around into the fog drifting down the block, the streetlight on the corner turning it sodium-vapor orange. “Where's your car?”

“
I walked...”

“
Walked? From where? Home? You live like six miles from me...”

The light from a lone set of headlights coming up the street glowed in the clouds of drifting mist, the car rolling slowly through the neighborhood. “Down,
down,”
urged Dan, dropping prone on the house's walkway. He reached up and grabbed Chase by the ankle,
“get down...”

Chase dropped to a low crouch, refusing to go prone on his own front lawn. Allie dropped all the way down, laying half on the grass, half on the walkway, more than willing to play this new game. Chase scowled at Dan, “What the hell is wrong with you? What's going on?”

“Ssshhh...”

The police car idled past the house, the alley lights on, their glow refracting through the mist in either side of the car. The spotlight swinging in an arc past them did little to penetrate the wall of gray-white. In another moment the lights went out and the patrol car continued down the street.

Chase took a deep breath, wiping the moisture from his face, realizing he was soaked to his skin. He might as well have been caught in the rain. “OK, Dan, you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“
Can we go in the house, please?” Dan rose to his feet and picked up the duffel lying on the ground behind him. “But don't turn on the lights, OK?”

■ ■ ■

Toweled dry, sipping hot coffee, the two men sat in the darkness of the living room, with the only light coming in through the vertical blinds from the streetlight on the corner, painting the walls in eerie, pale orange stripes.

After what seemed an interminable amount of silence, Dan Murphy shifted and set his coffee mug on the table. “Chase, some real crazy shit's been happening...”

“Like you showing up in my bushes at God-thirty in the morning...?” prodded Chase. Dan Murphy just sighed and shook his head, prompting Chase to change his tone. “OK, like what? We talking stuff related to Caroline's death?”

“
That would be my guess. I've been seeing black sedans everywhere. I'm being followed,
even on duty.”

“
You sure it's not IA checking up on you or something?”

Dan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I've seen them parked near my house even at night. It's
not
Internal Affairs.” He steepled his hands nervously. “A week ago, I responded to a call for a warehouse burglary alarm, and when I got there, I was the first on the scene. I could see the open door so I backed off a bit to keep an eye on it and waited, but no other units showed up. That's when I noticed two dark sedans at the back of a parking lot across the street. I don't think they realized I saw them...”

“
Didn't you just call for backup?”

“
I couldn't, my radio didn't have a signal, and my cell phone couldn't find one either...”

“
They were jamming you?”

“
I think so. It was a setup. They wanted me to go into that warehouse alone but I wasn't taking the bait. As soon as I left the neighborhood, my radio grabbed a signal, but I didn't want to take a chance, I called into dispatch on a land-line... They had no record of a burglary call coming in, and they had no record of issuing the call to my unit. My unit was logged as
unreachable
for almost fifteen-minutes.”

“
Son of a bitch...” hissed Chase, “they were going to hit you.”

“
Yeah...” he replied stoically, “I got lucky. I don't think they'll make that kind of mistake again.”

“
Did you tell anybody?”

“
I didn't know who I could trust, or if anyone would believe me.” He picked up his coffee mug, “But that's not the only thing... there's more, lots more.”

“
I don't like the sound of that...”

Dan sipped his coffee. “And you shouldn't... You've heard about all the equipment buys by the Department of Homeland Security, right?”

“The ammo, the guns, the drones, the MRAPs...?”
Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle.
“Yeah, I heard.”

“
How about the practice targets with actual photos of white Americans of all ages? They even have one of a child, and another of a pregnant woman...”

Chase did a double take in the darkness, “What? No... I...”

“DHS wanted our department to use them for training too... I saw them... The Sheriff refused to use them. And those MRAPs? They purchased over twenty-seven-hundred of those things! That's over fifty per state...” he waved his mug, “what the hell do they need them in the United States, for?”

Chase didn't immediately respond, his mind was wandering ahead. The MRAP was a serious piece of military hardware that had no real place in civilian or law enforcement use, except in
very
limited circumstances. And surely not enough in number to run a fleet of them rampaging across any state in the country, unchallenged. Because there would be nothing in a civilian, or law enforcement armory that could effectively stop one. For all intents and purposes, the MRAP was a
tank
. A politically correct tank, that could be disguised as a vehicle used to render and deliver aid in the event of a
natural disaster
. Or on the dark side, deliver troops to counter an armed rebellion.

He sensed a very real possibility in the not too distant future, when Americans would once again be fighting a bloated power-hungry government. Except this time, it would be the American government on their own soil. His stomach knotted and he felt queasy. This would more than explain the attempts to disarm returning military veterans. And reductions in military readiness by cutting budgets... all the while boosting the DHS funding. The administration was building a personal, private army. It might also explain why the government didn't seem to be in any hurry to bring troops home en-mass from their mission theaters, but rather to exhaust them with multiple deployments and extended stays.

He cleared his throat, “They're preparing for a revolution...”

Dan Murphy leaned back on the couch, his face disappearing in the shadows, “Yeah, that's what I thought you were going to say...”

Chase motioned toward the bags on the floor near the front door, “I noticed you have a pretty substantial backpack and a bug-out bag, what's your plan?”

“
I think I need to disappear for awhile...”

“
You got money? Cash?” asked Chase. “Because you need to forget credit cards.”

“
Assholes froze my bank accounts, but I had a little over eight grand in my safe. It'll have to do, I guess.”

“
I've got a couple more on hand, need it?”

“
If it doesn't put you in a bind, yeah, that would be great.”

“
So how'd you get out?”

“
If it wasn't for this fog, I wouldn't have. There were two of them sitting in the condo parking lot, one unit near each entrance, that's why I left my car. Besides, I was a little afraid to start it... I was getting the sense they were getting impatient, and I felt like I had a target pinned on my back. It was now or never. I went over the back fence and through yards. I stuck to the side streets until I hit the bike trail. Since the trail's not lit, I could make pretty good time. The fog is actually thicker here than over at my place...”

“
Mmm,” nodded Chase draining his coffee mug, “I'm a little closer to the water. What about work?”

“
I had a lot of comp time, so I arranged a couple weeks off. I left it open to take more if I need to. Suppose I could do a leave of absence. I don't want to loose my job, but it's better than getting popped. Not sure how long it will take for these clowns to get bored and loose interest...”

“
Well you'd been pushing pretty hard,” said Chase standing up, stepping over Allie's sleeping form. “I hate to say I told you so...”

“
Save it, I know,” replied Dan, rising with him, following him into the kitchen. He held his empty mug out for a refill. “Hit me.” He sighed, pensively, “I have access to a little place...”

“
No,” Chase interrupted, holding up his hand, “don't want to know. We'll get you moving in the right direction though.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Those guys are gonna figure out pretty soon you're not home,” said Chase, pouring.

Dan shook his head, no. “I set timers on the lights, stereo and TV at the condo so I'm hoping it'll be a couple days until those guys catch on. My laptop's in my bag and I took a hammer to my smart phone. I hated to do it, it was only a couple months old...”

“Yep, but they can track it even with the GPS off, by the cell towers it touches. Triangulation. Even if you're not on a call.”

“
Yep,” nodded Dan. “I bought a couple of those simple prepaid phones at a mini mart this week, so I still have communications, but I'll be going through a lot of those...”

“
Hold on,” countered Chase, does your laptop have wifi?”

“
Sure.”

“
Check this out,” waved Chase, heading to his office. Dropping into his chair he plugged a blank USB drive into his desktop computer. He took a couple of minutes, copying a program to it, unplugged it and handing it to Dan when it was complete. “Here. All you have to do is plug it in to your laptop and start the program. You can use VOIP,”
Voice Over Internet Protocol, “
or you can plug your cell phone into the laptop with its USB charging cable, and the software will control the phone.”

“
OK...” said Dan, not sure where it was all going.

Chase pointed at the software on the screen, “It's called
Ghost.
It's an anti-tracing software. If you're using the VOIP function, it will hide the real IP address, and ping a fake IP address at random, from another country... the service provider can't even tell.”

“
That's pretty cool... And the cell phone?”

Chase grinned like the Cheshire cat, clicking a button on the software, “Choose
cell communication
, and in this data window here,” he pointed, “you can leave it blank or you can type in any number you want, and that's what it will show on the other end. Watch this...” He plugged his cell phone into the computer and entered a number on the software he knew by heart, then dialed his home number on the cell phone. When the land-line rang, the display showed the number and info;
FBI - Tampa Office.

“
Shit, that's sweet,”
mused Dan. “What about the triangulation issue?”

“
The signal is coded, telling the towers that it's a secret, encrypted transmission, so they withhold the information and don't log it, pass it on or record it. The signal is also bounced randomly, en-route, so it can't be backtracked.”

“
I can't thank you enough, Brother.”

“
No sweat, just keep your head down. Let's get some rest, we'll find you a ride out of town in the morning...”

CHAPTER THIRTY

REVENGE, ZENDER'S TREK :
SNIPE HUNT

The members of the small, seriously understaffed crew of the Revenge were taking turns getting a bit of shuteye, but it's new Lieutenant Commander pro tem was having a little difficulty adjusting to the weight of his new position. He wasn't so concerned about keeping the rank... Well OK, maybe a little. But he was
most
concerned about bringing the Revenge and his crew safely back in one piece. Hmm,
his
crew, that was the first time he'd thought of it like that. Up until now his responsibilities were limited to a fighter where he was solely responsible for himself. Maybe a Zulu with a three man crew. But this was considerably different. Twenty-odd souls. Fully staffed, there would be somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty.

Lieutenant Commander Brian Carter sat on the sofa in the Captain's ready room with his feet on an ottoman, staring at the glowing holo-chart suspended over the table. Notes hovered where they'd jumped into Zender's Trek and their discovery of the abandoned ore freighter. Without shields, the stern had been pretty shot up, her port engine dangling off its twisted mounts, holes through her hull from Jack's single strafing run. Honestly, it hadn't been hard tracking her once the sensors picked up the debris and vapor trails. Unfortunately there was no time to board and inspect her to see if there was any salvageable intel. Instead they thoroughly holed her to prevent her recovery and waste any chance of the pirates using her for anything other than scrap metal value. He was sorry to have to pass on the opportunity, but there were more critical mission goals to attend to.

Lisa's dog, Gus, lay curled up next to him on the couch and he stroked the animal's ears absentmindedly as he gazed at the chart. To the Revenge's advanced sensors, there was a quickly dissipating but still trackable energy trail leaving the ore freighter, headed toward the gate for the Balyenne System. Whether there was any deviation in that route, they'd never know, because that wasn't on the mission's
to-do
list. The thought had crossed his mind to chase it down anyway, to see what might be in Balyenne, but the scope of this recon mission was time sensitive and the luxury of exploration wasn't in the cards.

Brian leaned back and closed his eyes, hoping to catnap, even though he suspected it wasn't likely. He needed to at least try.

GOD jumping from the location of the abandoned freighter across Zender's Trek to the gate for Cariloon, saved them several hours in travel time, and it was immediately apparent how useful the drive could be for more than just system leaps. The gate travel to the Cariloon System was uneventful, but immediately upon exiting the gate, it was obvious to the ship's sensors that there had been considerable activity in the system, even though there were no ships in reach of their sweep.

It was impossible to determine from the energy trails how many ships had actually passed through the system, but it was clear they were all headed to the gate to Velora Prime, and that gave Brian an evil chill. For all intents and purposes they were alone, undermanned, behind enemy lines. Having been a FreeRanger ship, the Revenge still had the communication codes and was broadcasting a FreeRanger ident ping, hoping to travel unchallenged.

“Commander to the bridge, Commander to the bridge, we have contact!”

Brian bounced up off the sofa, blinking away the stars of the sudden altitude change and the mist of sleep.
Had he actually been asleep?
He couldn't be sure. Trotting out onto the bridge, Gus on his heels, the door slid closed behind him with a hiss.

“
What do we have?” he asked, dropping into the command chair, flicking on the screens in front of him.

“
Two enemy ships entering the gate to Velora Prime,” replied Raulya, looking back over her shoulder, “about five minutes apart.”

“
Type?”

“
I was unable to ID the one that entered first; the remaining one is a light destroyer.”

“
If you had to guess on the first ship?”

“
Another destroyer, or possibly a frigate.”

Whether they had noticed the Revenge or not, they gave no indication, and made no attempt to communicate. “Mr. Tusker,” ordered Brian, “send this communication to the task force...
Pirate force sighted in Cariloon, unable to determine overall number or strength. Two destroyers entering gate to Velora Prime. Sensor readings in system indicate substantial activity. Balance of force estimated to be in transit ahead of visible assets. End.
Send it with the protocol outlined by Commander Smiley.”

“
Aye, sir. The
Morse Code
protocol...” He began typing in the coded message.

“
We
are
following them in, sir..?” asked Ragnaar, more a statement than a question.

“
Correct, Lieutenant. According to my readings we have an eight-hour ride to the gate at present speed. As soon as that ship clears the transition,” he pointed at the images on the big screen; “initiate a GOD jump to the gate.”