Jack of Harts 2.5: Wolfenheim Rising (9 page)

Malcolm dropped the ruined fork in disgust.  “We got the important stuff, right?”

Dawn’s eyes narrowed.  “That depends on what you call important.  That depot happens to be a lot of very nice stuff that I still want,” she finished in a plaintive tone.

“Can we live without it?” he asked in an exasperated tone and came to his feet.  This was getting old.

“Yes,” she growled, looking even unhappier to be admitting that than he expected.

He began to pace across the day cabin, getting in some good thinking time.  Then he jerked his head to the side and laughed.  “Is Olivia asking you the same questions?”

Dawn snorted and turned away.  “You two make a
great
pair
!”

Malcolm chuckled again and waved at Murphy’s squadron.  “Hey, don’t blame us.  She’s the one on our tails.”

“Only because
you
are a criminal,” Dawn said with crossed arms.

Malcolm aimed a hurt expression at her as he turned around.  “I have not broken a single law during this entire project,” he said in an innocent tone and began walking in her direction.

She raised a single eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat.

“Well, not any
important
laws at least.”  He shrugged and came to a momentary stop near her.  “Now that we’re out of their jurisdiction.”

Dawn rolled her eyes.  “Right.”

“Blame Chuck!” Malcolm tried with a shrug of both shoulders.  “
He’s
the one that arranged for all that money to get to us.”

Dawn stepped over, leaned in so close he could feel her breath on his skin, and glared at him.  “And you knew about it the whole time, so that makes
you
a
conspirator
.”  She poked him in the chest with an accusing fingertip.

He smiled and poked her back.  “You did
too
.”

“Oh.”  She pulled back and frowned at him.  “Right.”  She turned to another holofield where shuttles spilled out of the Wolfenheim Project starships.  “Well, we’re almost ready to dive.”

Malcolm waved at the bulkhead showing a massive view of the nearby gas giant.  “So long Independence.  We barely knew yah.”

“That’s Perseverance,” Dawn corrected.

“Whatever,” Malcolm responded with a wry smile.  He strode over to his favorite chair, sat down, and kicked his feet up onto the ottoman.

With a frown, Dawn sat down in the other chair, and they waited for the fleet to leave.  Within minutes, the displays flashed and they were back in hyperspace.

“And that’s that,” Dawn reported, shaking her head.

Malcolm let out a long breath, interlaced his fingers behind his head, and watched the ships dive deeper into hyperspace.  “Yup.”  He didn’t have anything else to do.  That thought soured his expression for a moment, but he pulled in a breath and decided that he was going to make the best of a bad situation and enjoy watching the lightshow.  Somehow.

A few minutes later, Dawn shifted and looked at the hatch to the corridor outside the day cabin.

Malcolm aimed a questioning look at her.

“You’ve got company.”  She blinked and then smiled.  “And I think you’ll want to talk to him.”

“Well then.  Don’t keep him waiting,” Malcolm ordered and turned towards the hatch.  He caught a glimpse of Dawn sticking her tongue out at him, but the hatch opened without further delay.

A brown leather flight jacket moved into the cabin, worn by a young man with dirty brown hair and a black Stetson atop it.  The kid swore up and down that John Smith was his real given name.  Of course, the seventeen-year-old baby face could say the sun died while you slept with such guileless sincerity that you’d believe him until you saw the glowing orb for yourself.  The real life Boy Scout, who surely helped old ladies cross the street in his spare time, was also a veteran of Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 112, the Cowboys.  He was, in short, one of the cutest little killing machines Malcolm had ever met.

Malcolm smiled and sprang to his feet to welcome the kid, as a redheaded holoform wearing blue jeans and a matching flight jacket followed the kid in.  Dawn, on her feet even quicker than he, rushed over to welcome the other cyber.  Avatar and holoform leaned in close to exchange greetings, and Malcolm shook his head.  Anna had the “high school student on the run from a truant officer” look down perfectly.  She even had freckles on her cheeks.  She looked so bloody cute he felt like a dirty old man every time he looked at her.

“We’ll leave you two boys alone,” Dawn said and led Anna away.  The girl actually giggled as they walked away.  Giggled.

Malcolm turned back to share a bemused look with the young boy in front of him and had to suck in a lungful of air to reengage his brain.  “Welcome to my humble abode,” he finally said, waving towards the chair that Dawn had so recently vacated.

“Thanks,” the kid answered and bounced past him to take his seat.  Bounced.

Suddenly feeling very old, Malcolm followed the kid and relaxed down into his seat again.  After arranging his feet back on the ottoman, he smiled at the pilot.  “So what can I do for you?”

Instead of answering, Smith waved a hand at a part of the bulkhead.  Outside, the
Privateer
that recently joined them sailed off
Normandy’s
port side, rivers of gravity parting around her.  “She’s a beautiful ship,” he said in a proud tone.

“Yes, she is,” Malcolm returned, even though he wasn’t sure he really agreed.  She was too blocky for him.  She had too many straight lines and angles and weird things sticking out of her hull.  Give him an old first-generation gravtech beauty like
Normandy
, all curves and smooth lines, and he was much happier.  But, beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and Smith obviously loved that ship.  So to the younger man, she was beautiful.

“I’ve been spending a lot of time on her lately,” Smith said with a smile.

Malcolm nodded.  Smith was an Avenger pilot by training.  It made sense that Charles wanted
him
to test a ship designed to carry them, especially since thirteen Avengers came with her.  “I know.”

The kid blushed at his wry comment and met his gaze.  Then the boy looked away again, back to admiring the beautiful ship out there.  “I’m really going to have to thank him for her, aren’t I?”

Malcolm chuckled.  “Yes you will.”

Smith nodded at him and smiled.  “You have no idea how much I love being back in an Avenger,” he said.  “Don’t get me wrong.  The Blackhawks are nice birds, but…”

He trailed off and Malcolm smiled.  “But nothing holds a candle to the first girl you fly.”

“Yeah,” Smith answered with a smile.  “I just wish I could give an Avenger to each of my pilots.  But that would make us
all
targets.”

Malcolm nodded in understanding.  The fighter squadrons on
Normandy
had a single pilot-cyber team controlling twelve fighters.  The beauty of the system was that the enemy didn’t know which of the twelve fighters the pilot flew, making it impossible for them to target him.  Handing out the Avengers to the other pilots would be like waving a giant sign that said “Shoot here.”  And while cybers could come back from dying by just loading up a previous backup, death for genetic humans was a bit more permanent.  Besides, there was another problem.

“And
Normandy
can’t support Avengers anyways,” Malcolm noted.  Her hangar bays were designed for Blackhawks half the size of those monstrous fighters.

“Too big,” Smith agreed.  Then he sighed, and Malcolm knew the kid was ready to say what he came here to say.  “The last problem I have is that now we have five fighter squadrons and four pilots.  Right now we’re using the fourth Blackhawk squadron as a reserve,” Smith continued in explanation, “putting broken-down birds there while they get repaired, and using it to flesh out our fighter screen.”  He shrugged.  “We could do that on a permanent basis, but that’s not optimal for a lot of reasons I don’t have time to explain.  We just really need another pilot if we want to make full use of them.”

“Right,” Malcolm returned and looked back out at hyperspace.  Good pilots were rare.  He didn’t know how Charles managed to talk four Cowboys into retiring and joining the project, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to ask.  The fact that all four were Ageless, with all the advantages
that
brought, made him even
more
unwilling to ask.  There were some secrets he just didn’t need to delve into.  “There’s not one person in the fleet that can fly a starfighter the way you do.”

Smith nodded very slowly, as if in deep thought.  “Well,” he began in a doubtful tone, but he didn’t fool Malcolm at all.  The boy knew exactly what he was going to say next, so Malcolm remained silent and waited for the next words.  “I can think of
one
person on this ship I’d trust with a fighter.”

Malcolm raised one eyebrow as he waited, but Smith’s silence finally forced the question out.  “Who?”

“He’s got all the right aptitudes,” Smith answered with a smile.  “Based on the tests I’ve seen, I think he could make our fighters dance.”

“
Who
?” Malcolm repeated, wondering who could actually impress a retired Cowboy.

“His name’s Malcolm McDonnell,” Smith noted without any hesitation at all.

The name didn’t register for a second.  Then Malcolm laughed.  It was just too ridiculous.  “No.”

“Why?”  The kid was still smiling, but Malcolm felt something underneath the childlike skin.  He couldn’t tell what it was, but the kid that looked at him suddenly appeared far older than he looked.

“Well,” Malcolm said with a trace of uncertainty.  “Look, I’ve never flown a starfighter in my life.  I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Smith smiled.  “I didn’t either when I started.”  He looked to the hatch the girls had disappeared through.  “Honestly, with
them
, we don’t need to
know
how to fly.  They do all the hard work.  We’re just there to…add some organic randomization to the mix.”

“You do a lot more than that,” Malcolm said a raised eyebrow, daring the kid who wasn’t quite a kid to correct him.

Smith smiled.  “Well, that’s because I’m in command.  I
have
to be able to think ahead and strategize.”  Then he aimed very old eyes at Malcolm, laying a hundred years of Marine experience on him at once.  “
You’d
just have to be willing to follow
my
orders.”

Malcolm leaned back further in his chair and frowned.  “Well, that’d be a bit of a change.”

Smith shrugged.  “You’d still be Director of course.  But when in flight, you’d need to be willing to accept my commands without reservation.  And at the same time be able to trust your instincts when your subconscious tells you that Something Bad is about to happen,” he noted and tapped his forehead.  “And you’d need to be ready to risk your life to protect a pack of normal humans.”

Malcolm raised one eyebrow at the man.

Smith cleared his throat in the uncomfortable silence, but took the bull by the horns and leaned forward.  “Look.  Many people like us refuse to lift a single finger to protect them,” he spat out.

“Like the Hurst family?” Malcolm asked with a shrug.

Smith nodded and gave him an apologetic look.  “And most of their
allies
,” he said very slowly.

Malcolm nodded, acknowledging the clean hit.  Then he spread both arms out wide.  “And here I am.”  He smiled, understanding what the man was thinking.  “Directing.”  Not fighting.

“Yes,” Smith responded with care, reluctant to be any more direct.  Malcolm understood that too.  He was about as close to the Hurst family that anybody could get without actually being blood.  It didn’t matter if they were chasing him.  A man could pick up a serious case of superiority complex by living a life with them.  And people like them looked poorly on direct challenges to their humanity.  Especially when they thought they were the best humans around.  Smith came to his feet and sucked in a deep breath.  “You don’t need to answer now.  Just think about it and get back to me.”  Smith nodded and turned to walk back to the exit hatch.

Malcolm followed his progress to see Anna appearing in the other hatch.  She moved to meet him, her green eyes shining brightly as she studied Malcolm.  The intensity of that gaze did not belong on her high school–girl looks.

She reminded him of another girl, long ago.  Back in a time when he thought Earth was alone in the universe.  For a split second, he remembered the man he’d been back then.  Just a normal human like everyone else, thirty-four years old and willing to face five men for the woman behind him.  He remembered the feeling of dancing through the katas, diving between men, and lashing out with fists, feet, elbows, and more.  That younger version of himself had been willing to die for her.  He almost had.

Malcolm shook his head.  Girls made men do the stupidest things.  But across the gulf of time, he saw that man and sighed.  Some people had the example of parents to live up to.  Some people were moved into action by how they thought other people would be disappointed.  Malcolm had himself.  A stupid, idiotic, stubborn individual who lived a century ago and still demanded that Malcolm rise to his example.  Looking at that person, he didn’t need time to think about it.