Wings of steele 4 dark c.., p.1
Wings of Steele 4: Dark Cover, page 1
COVER
REVIEWS
“I’ve read a lot, a whole lot, and this is the best of the best when it comes to science fiction. It is not just a fantasy thrown together but a well thought out, well written plot that covers more events, action and comedy than I could ever imagine. A word of warning, these books are addictive. I neglect a lot of other interests by getting so caught up in them that I find myself starting the first book and reading them again and again and again…” Bob. H.
“Ready or not, each book on this series just grabs you and drags you in, and this volume has not changed that. Jeff Burger is a talented author whose writing style puts you right into the action next to the character. A mix of factual places and events makes it eerily realistic. This series is a must-read for any sci fi or space opera fan.” Cheri P.
“I seriously don’t understand why this author hasn’t been scooped up by a major publisher yet… This series is as good or better than much of the main-stream sci fi stuff out there. And these books are meaty! Easily enough material to be 2 novels each… I know it takes him a while to produce, but the wait is worth it! I’m looking forward to book 5.” Joe B.
“This series goes so much further than sci fi… it’s better described as sci fi-space opera-action adventure-alien spy thriller-murder mystery. And when you least expect it, it has humor too. The character interaction is wonderfully believable.” Marilyn S.
“No spoilers here, but as a Mason, I can see symbolism and allegory woven throughout the series. It’s quite good, and without revealing too much, I see it leading to a much bigger picture somewhere. A very subtle, da Vinci Code - in space. I can tell he’s in it for the long game; I’m really interested to see if it’s going where I think it is. Whether I’m right or not, it’s a great ride and a blast to read!” David N.
“This guy is good. Real good. My only complaint is that it was a two-year wait for this volume to come out. But if he keeps up writing like this, I’ll keep waiting for them to come out. I think Wings of Steele would make an excellent television series.” Matthew A.
“Jeff Burger blurs the line between fact and fiction and blends the two together so well, it feels organic, real. He does a tremendous job of painting chaos, discord, mistrust and confusion in this newest book. Anyone who has been in the military knows plans don’t survive the first engagement and things seem to fall apart faster than a cheap Chinese toy. But to their credit, the characters adapt, overcome, persevere. And I was rooting for them every step of the way.” Gunny
WINGS of STEELE
DARK COVER
A NOVEL BY
JEFFREY J. BURGER
Other books in the series...
Book 1 - WINGS of STEELE - Destination Unknown
Book 2 - WINGS of STEELE - Flight of Freedom
Book 3 - WINGS of STEELE - Revenge and Retribution
www.wingsofsteele.com
COPYRIGHT
E-Book Edition
Published in the United States by Templar Press. Templar Press and the mounted Templar Knight colophon are registered trademarks and may not be reproduced.
Wings of Steele - Dark Cover
Copyright © 2016 Jeffrey J. Burger
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US. Copyright Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever, without the expressed written consent of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book and contents are a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in
this book are fictitious. Any similarity to events, places, or persons, living or dead,
is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Registered with the Library of Congress
ISBN-13: 978-0-9983408-0-7 (Templar Press)
ISBN-10: 0-9983408-0-4
Cover artwork, copyright © 2016 Jeffrey J. Burger
WINGS of STEELE logo, copyright © 2016 Jeffrey J. Burger
www.wingsofsteele.com
DEDICATION
I want to thank all my readers who have enjoyed the Wings of Steele Series of adventures and offered their support, enthusiasm, and interest in the continuation of the series. Please remember, as a self-published author, I thrive on your feedback and reviews.
To Fritz; I will miss you - your personality, your energy, your spirit. Everyone who met you fell in love with your charm and canine charisma. At 11 years old you left too soon and too quickly, leaving me totally unprepared for your departure from my life. I choose to believe dogs have souls, put on this Earth to guide worthy humans with your love, kindness and canine wisdom, destined to meet again.
May you rest comfortably in God's hands.
CONTENTS
COVER
REVIEWS
COPYRIGHT
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON D.C. : OVAL OFFICE
Arms folded across his chest sitting with his feet up on the Resolute Desk, his mood rapidly darkening, the President of the United States watched the live television broadcast with the rest of the world. Which to his dismay, seemed to be on every damned channel. Wind whipped the rain against the windows of the Oval Office behind him, gentle flashes of light rolling through the clouds in the darkened sky, illuminating the silhouette of the Washington Monument in the distance.
Broken in frustration, the TV's remote control lay scattered in pieces across the surface of the desk. This was not just any desk... Created from timbers of the British Arctic Exploration ship, H.M.S. Resolute, the desk had been given as a gift from Queen Victoria to President Rutherford B. Hayes in 1880. The desk was an illustrative paradigm of British and American history dating back to its roots in 1850. Part of the expedition searching for the missing British explorer, Sir John Franklin in 1852, the ship Resolute was abandoned in 1854 when it became trapped in the shifting and growing Arctic ice. Recovered in 1855 by Captain James Buddington of the American whaling ship George Henry, the Resolute was returned to Queen Victoria in 1856.
Unfortunately, the man with his feet resting on the ornate hand-carved desk was unconcerned with its beauty, colorful history or significance. It wasn't that he was the first president to ever prop his feet up on the desk, no, it had been used by almost every president since Rutherford, save for Johnson, Nixon and Ford. But he was the first president who was so disconnected from American history, tradition, or culture, that in his eyes it was nothing more than an old piece of furniture. But then again, that's what one might expect from an illegal alien guilty of planetary subversion. And not just any alien, an interstellar criminal. A narcissist so self-centered, so callous, nothing mattered except his own agenda... his mission... something he never shared with anyone - except his Senior Adviser. Even his wife and children didn't know who, or what, he really was.
The President's Senior Adviser and Executive Press Secretary watched the broadcast with him from one of the pale yellow sofas near the center of the room. His Senior Adviser sipped her coffee and set the mug back down on the coffee table with a scrutinizing eye studying his reactions to the content of the news conference, “There's got to be something we can do. To stop the broadcast I mean...”
The President's eyes never left the screen, “Short of shutting down the entire power grid, no.”
It wasn't a sarcastic or angry response, it was surprisingly matter-of-fact. It was obvious to her he was concentrating on the broadcast, listening for the unspoken, analyzing everything, thinking ahead. “That's not impossible, we could arrange that...” she observed.
He glanced over at her, the first time his eyes had left the screen since the broadcast began, a blank, expressionless, uncaring look on his face, “I never said I couldn't...” There seemed to be more he wanted to say but his concentration went back to the news conference. “It wouldn't change anything...” he grumbled.
“What's our exit strategy?” she probed.
The President glanced over at his Senior Adviser before shifting his gaze to his Executive Press Secretary. “Give us some privacy...” he said flatly.
The Press Secretary rose and nodded silently, gathering his notes and suit jacket draped across the arm of the couch before heading toward the door. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on in there and he was pretty certain he didn't want to know. Closing the doo
■ ■ ■
The President dropped his feet off the desk and stood up stretching his lanky frame, turning his back on the flat screen TV and his Senior Adviser, “I don't have an exit strategy...”
“You mean, we, don't you?” she snapped.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. He moved to the window and watched the rain fall on the south lawn, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
She stood up and smoothed her tailored navy blue skirt, “Maybe you should have spent less time vacationing and more time concentrating on the job!” she replied sharply.
He spun around angrily, “Get off my back you shrew,” he pointed at her. “Who knew these people would be so damned hard to motivate...”
“You underestimated them...”
“I didn't underestimate anything dammit, I followed the plan. If it's anyone's fault, it's theirs,” he waved at the ceiling. “They're the ones who created the plan. And who expected the UFW to show up?” He thumbed at the broadcast on the flat screen, “This asshole Steele has screwed everything... The Council couldn't have warned us?”
“Oh stop whining,” she waved, “and let's try to figure out how to get out of this mess.”
The President leaned with both hands on the Resolute Desk and glared at her, “Have you forgotten you're talking to the President of the United States?”
She stood defiantly with her hands on her hips, “You've gotten far too attached to this role... And have you forgotten you're talking to a superior...”
“SIR!” The door of the Oval Office burst open from the corridor, a flood of Secret Service agents pouring into the room. “We have to go, Mr. President...”
The President straightened up, “What? Why? What's going on?”
“NORAD, sir. There's been a nuclear launch...” Two men rounded the desk another sealed the room from the corridor. A hidden door opened in a wall to reveal a narrow, dimly lit corridor, an agent holding it open motioning everyone inside.
“Renegade secure,” announced one of the agents, talking into his sleeve. “Bonus, Dear Abby secure. Exit route; Underground Railroad.”
“Let's go Mr. President,” said one of the agents guiding him towards the secret exit. “We don't have much time. You too, ma'am,” he waved.
The President grabbed his suit jacket off of the back of his chair before he was escorted through the doorway and into the narrow corridor. “Who... what...”
“North Korea, sir. D.C. is the target.”
“What about my girls? They're shopping...”
“The second detail has your family, sir. They will be taking a different exit and will meet up with us later.”
“The football, who has the football?” asked the Senior Adviser.
An agent pointed the way as the corridor slanted downward and took a turn, “Meeting us at the train, ma'am.”
“The V.P.?”
“Iowa, ma'am. He's secure.”
“Can't we just shoot it down?” asked the President.
“NORAD said all our satellites are hobbled, 20th Space Control is basically blind.”
“Dammit. How much time do we have?”
The agent checked his watch, “Twenty-five minutes. Strategic Air Command has launched assets...”
“I don't understand, wouldn't the Situation Room be safe?” The President allowed himself to be steered past an elevator, into another downward sloping corridor.
“Separation of assets, Mr. President. The COG System has been activated, we can't keep all our eggs in one basket.”
“I'm going to pretend you didn't just refer to me as an egg...” frowned the President.
■ ■ ■
Taking an ancient elevator in a crisis, no matter how well maintained, is begging for trouble. The Secret Service opted for the ten flights of stairs to the lower level. That delivered them to the train platform over a hundred feet below the White House; the air damp and heavy, musty, smelling of earth and rock, some of the walls slick with moisture. A two-car train sat on one of two sets of tracks; silver, bullet-shaped at both ends so the engineer could drive in either direction, a tunnel heading in both directions disappearing into the darkness.
Two men in suits stood on the platform, one carrying a bulky leather satchel, the other the engineer who disappeared inside as soon as he saw the group approaching from the opening in the natural rock wall at the far end of the platform. The agent carrying the nuclear football glanced at his watch and waved them inside, “Hurry, hurry, we've only got about fifteen minutes.”
The inside of the train was well appointed with comfortable loungers, and well equipped, like the rail version of Air Force One. As soon as the doors closed, the train began to move, the electric engines humming as it eased away from the platform. “Hello everyone, this is the engineer, please find a seat so I can bring her up to speed...”
The President chose a forward-facing chair and leaned back, “We're cutting this a little close, aren't we?”
The agent sitting in the chair beside his waved at the train around them, “She does nearly ninety at speed and we'll descend another hundred feet or so. We'll be about twenty miles out and under about two-hundred feet of concrete, rock, and earth, Mr. President. We'll be perfectly safe.”
“How long..?”
“We'll be at the Greenbrier Hotel in about two hours. We may experience periods of communications blackout as we make the run, but the Greenbrier is fully equipped with a Situation Room, bunker and complete accommodations for over a thousand people...”
The President's Adviser cocked her head to one side, “I thought the Greenbrier was no longer in service...”
The lead Agent grimaced, “Some clown from the Washington Post wrote an article and blew the cover of the bunker in 1992. President H. W. Bush ordered it decommissioned shortly after that. In 2001, President G. W. Bush invested twenty million dollars and ordered it silently reactivated shortly after 9-11... It was ready for use by the end of 2002.”
“But I thought they held tours through the bunker...” commented the Senior Adviser.
“They do,” he replied, “but only a small portion of the bunker has ever been open to the public, it's immense. The rest of it has been updated. It's secure, stocked and ready for use; hidden in plain sight. G. W. took a gamble and it paid off.”
Holding on to his communications console against the train's acceleration, the agent manning that station turned in his seat, “There's been another launch...”
“Who?” asked the President.
“Iran. They're targeting Israel.”
“Hmm,” grunted the President, looking neither surprised or disturbed, “Bibi's going to have to deal with it himself; we've got our own issues...”
The President's Senior Adviser indicated the leather satchel containing the nuclear football, “Is it time to consider North Korea's punishment?” Her lips and eyes held a hint of a smile to anyone who could read her face.
WINGS of STEELE – DARK COVER
CHAPTER ONE
AGERON PASS SYSTEM: DEEP BLACK, SCAVENGER TWO : ONCE UPON A TIME
Cheriska Skye's Kondor wasn't a pretty ship with all its rust, wear, age and dents but it was purposeful. A salvage reclaimer was never built to be stylish, fast or particularly comfortable, it was built to do recovery and salvage work, sometimes in unfriendly territory. Extendable gantry arms, claws, heavy armor, it was an ungainly, clumsy looking beast of a craft... but it got the job done. Scavenger Two had served its previous owner reliably for many years before Cheriska won it in a high-stakes Ruge game... and now it served her; unlike her smaller, Scavenger One, which seemed to spend more time in the hanger eating up her spare parts resources than out in space making her money. She never did tell her clone sister, Cheriska Too, whether she had won the card game fair and square or not.
