Episode 59

Chapter 253

Melanie

4:02pm, November 5th, 2006

9:02am November 6th, 2006 (local time)

I wonder if my boyfriend is still...

To find out, I stuck my head through the hatch to the bridge.

Yep. He still is. This is ridiculous. He needs sleep like the rest of us.

Kevin turned. He saw my face and paled a little.

Excellent. The only time men obey women without question is when they are aroused... aroused or scared. "Kevin! Why the hell are you not in bed?"

"I'm not tired." his yawn betrayed him.

"You know, that might have been more convincing if you did not just give a yawn that would have swallowed a basketball."

Kevin did not respond to that.

"You want to be ready to help with the surprise we've got planned for the Density Force, right?"

"Of course."

"Then trust me. That yawn you made when I came in tells me that you need a nap badly."

Kevin yawned again as he gave in. "Okay. You win." Kevin got up and left the bridge.

I sat down in the command seat. Hopefully it would be a quiet trip.

"Incoming signal." Sam announced. "It does not match any on record."

"Al? Where is that signal coming from."

"One of the fighters being carried in the density field." the computer answered me. "Specifically the second from the left."

"Carried?"

"Yes. To conserve fuel, we have lightened the weight on the aircraft. The adjusted fields are practically carrying them."

"Very well. Open a channel to the fighter in question."

"Done."

"Hi there. This is Melanie. How can I help you?"

"What happened to the boy?"

"Oh please. I'm equally qualified to handle this."

Hopefully he won't ask how qualified that is.

He didn't. "Sorry. This is weird. Weird and worrying."

"Weird I understand. What's worrying you?"

"Safety and fuel consumption. I know that thing can fly cloaked. But won't we be visible? You know the Iranians and Israelis are not liking us right now."

"I bet that's the first time those two countries agreed about anything. You are correct about that. We don't want you shot at. I'll have to get some assistance. That request is a bit more technical than what we're used too."

"Understood."

"Hold on a moment. I have an idea. Al?"

"Yes?"

"Can you adjust the way the density field is carrying them? I want to make it so that we are carrying them completely."

"Yes."

"Do so."

"Done."

"Okay Sam. Broadcast this too all the fighters. Tell them to cut their engines. The rest of the trip is on us."

Sam spoke to the pilots.

They obeyed, although their trepidation was obvious.

They were pleasantly surprised when they did not plummet to the ground.

"Excellent." I said. "Now, for the rest of it, I think I better get help."

"You're not going to ask Jacob... are you?"

"No Mike. I'm going to talk to the only other person that Jacob taught personally. I'm calling Tiffany. Al?"

"Yes?"

"Connect me with Tiffany aboard the Flying Dutchman."

"Done."

"This is the Flying Dutchman, Mr. Mason speaking."

"We need to speak to Tiffany."

A moment later Tiffany appeared in the holographic projector. "Hi Melanie. How can I help you?"

"I have a problem, and for obvious reasons, I do not want to talk to Jacob about it."

"Oh?"

"It concerns the naval fighters I've got."

"Ah yes. The ones for Valerie's idea."

"That's right. How do we get them to the target zone without them being seen? The Navy does not have cloaking technology as we understand it."

"True. I saw a show about it on television once. They may have the radar signature of a small bird, but they are still visible to direct sightings."

"Exactly. Is there anything we can do?"

"Let me check." Tiffany bent over her command chair and started inputting things.

Finally a readout appeared.

"I have it. Stand by. I'm sending the data now."

"Got it." Sam announced.

"Thanks Tiffany. I'll see you later. Al, disconnect that channel."

"Done."

I looked over the suggestions sent. The math and relative calculations were over my head. Luckily the short synopsis was not.

"Connect me to the person serving as the pilot's spokesperson."

"Done."

"Good news and bad news."

"Go ahead."

"The good news is that it is possible."

"What's the bad news?"

"All the fighters have to be within twenty feet of the Mary Ellen."

"Your ship is not big enough for that. There are five of us."

I snorted. "Believe it or not, they do teach us to count in high school. According to the computer, you would be stacked like legos. That and you'd still be visible. But only to natural eyesight and only if they looked directly at you. All technology would be fooled."

"But they can still see us."

"Given the speeds you guys fly at, how often do you see your opponent directly, not glancing or out of the corner of your eyes, but directly?"

"All the time."

"With the naked eye? No technology or anything, just the naked eye?"

I heard a loud sigh come over the com channel. "Alright, alright, you've made your point."

"Do you guys feel confident handling the remaining journey literally inches away from each other?"

"No."

"Standby. I'll have the ship's computer take control. Sorry about the lack of an in flight movie."

"We'll live. Standing by."

"Al?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to place the fighters currently in your density field into a stacked formation, furthest portion of the naval fighters to be twenty feet or less from the outer hull of the Mary Ellen. After that, confirm that they are within the cloaking field."

"Are you aware that will put them about eight inches from the outer hull?"

"No. Will that cause a problem?"

"They will be interacting with the navigational shields."

"Can they be tightened closer to the ship?"

"No."

"Hold on. The fighters will need the protection once we build to speed. Okay. Reverse that. Put the navigational shields up around the fighters."

"Can do. They will be limited to 83 percent effectively."

"How will that affect the course as plotted?"

"It should not. But that means we will be cutting it closer than previous estimates."

"How much closer?"

"The Mary Ellen will arrive about 35 min before the funeral starts."

"Do it."

There was a short pause. "Done."

"Activate the cloak."

"Done."

I sat back down in the command chair. Maybe it will be peaceful now. We were cloaked and the only people who had the slightest idea we were out here had no intention of shooting at us. Finally I had time for food.

"Who's in charge here?" A voice demanded.

Then again, that was probably hoping for to much.

I spun the chair around.

There was a man in a naval uniform. It had the pins on it for the rank of Major. There also was a chaplain's insignia on it. He did not look in the least like the calm church person one expected.

I don't know why, but to me he looked like trouble.

"I am. Who are you?"

"Chaplain Hepster, United States Navy. I bring you greetings in the name of Almighty God, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the God Given President of the United States."

Oh, just great. Of all the clerics on that ship, we got the fanatic.

I did my best to keep my annoyance out of my voice. "Which faith are you most proficient in?"

"Whatever do you mean?" he replied in an arch tone.

"I mean what faith are you used to doing these services in?"

"I'm afraid it is not I who is confused, my child, but you."

My hands gripped the command chair. I was getting less and less happy. I knew the Stones would not be happy at all.

"There is only one faith, my child. The rest are sinners and damned to pain eternal. The facts of the Lord Jesus are known to all. No intelligent person can possibly question..."

"Enough."

Though I did not shout it, every crew member on the bridge swung their heads towards me.

"My child, I don't think..."

"Exactly. You don't think. But we'll get back to that. You will stop calling me 'my child'. I am not your child. I am the Acting Captain of this ship. You will address me as Captain, Ma'am or not at all."

The bridge went silent.

He looked shocked.

Unfortunately for him, I was only getting started. "As for your thinking, maybe you are not at fault. Who chose you?"

"I volunteered."

Now it was me trying to hold in my shock. "You volunteered. You understand who this service is for, don't you."

How I kept that statement from sounding like an outraged question is something I'll figure out later.

"One of those traitorous sinning Stones is dead."

Mike and Sam both got out of their chairs. It did not look like they were getting up because they were hungry.

"Down, both of you! There is a time for such things and this is not it! He will get his due reward."

"Yes. Heaven."

"Tell me..." I all but growled, "can you do your assignment? Will you put together a worthy service for the Stones?"

"I can be trusted to do my duty to God and Country.

"And we can be trusted to do our duty to Jacob Stone. Think about that. Remember that and choose what you say wisely. Now go below."

"The Blessings of the Almighty God, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the God Given President of the United States be upon all loyal Americans."

"Finally." I groaned. "Put the word out, nobody but crew on the bridge."

"They can't all be that bad." Mike tried.

I went back to the command seat. "Possibly not. But I don't want to find out if they are. We're committed now. We don't have the time to turn back and get them replaced. We barely have the time to stop and drop them off before moving the fighters into position."

Thomas faced me. "I wonder. How many ships does the Density Force have?"

"Four."

"Not enough. They use five."

"Use five for what?"

"The missing man formation. I was thinking of having the Density Force do the same thing. The center plane pulls off. In our case, the center ship could use its image system to go ghostlike before cloaking."

"It's a good idea." Thomas admitted. "Still, you did forget something."

"What did I forget?"

"The fact that we will be on security detail."

"I'm sure these ships can do both."

"But would it have the same meaning?"

Chapter 254

Colt

4:26pm, November 5th, 2006

9:26am November 6th, 2006 (local time)

(Inserted editor's note:

I refreshed my knowledge of the Marines for this section. Turns out there are no such things as Cadets at Parris Island. So most likely there is no Commandant. In short, the Marines do not have their own version of West Point. Please note this when reading on about the affairs of Colt and co.)

The Montezuma's Revenge approached the one place I was certain I would have no problems at. Home.

"Sir!" the weapons officer called out. "We have several fighters inbound."

"Raise shields."

"Yes, Sir."

"How many fighters?"