The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution (22 page)

Sophia Lihn was an interesting
person. She was barely five foot two, which disguised her lethality. Her father
had pounded martial arts training into her brother and her from an early age,
so not only did she carry a fusion reactor with her, she could also engage in
“nuclear karate.” What could be a more deadly combination? Ward wondered.

 Dr. Linh was an
astronautical engineer as well as an astronaut, though she’d never gotten the
chance to go up. Maybe that was why she liked to fly so much? She had been a
top NASA engineer and, in more sane times, would have been one of history’s
most famous inventors. But the Council had murdered her father to try and steal
the Helium-3 engine she had invented with him. So she’d become
Helius
instead. The elder Lihn had been the CEO of Lihn Industries and a bit of an
activist in San Francisco during the early gang wars there. He had paid for
that with his life. Surprisingly, she had declined to carry on the company after
his death.

Now Ward knew why. Instead, she
had suited up as Helius and secretly exacted her revenge on any and all
organized crime syndicates she could find. That was something he could relate
to. It gave him an instant feeling of camaraderie with her that he might
otherwise not feel.

In her early thirties, she was the
youngest of the Suns. She was also short-tempered and tough as nails—with a
Ph.D. in engineering.
That’s not at all intimidating!
She could be
maddeningly egotistical, but he had to respect her. The research she and her
father had done on Helium-3 propulsion had brought the world to within baby
steps of the development of clean fusion energy. She seemed to be fond of Ward,
so the fact that she could probably kick his ass at a moment's notice seemed
less troublesome than it might. Her black flight suit was not as sturdy as the
one Ward was wearing. He wondered if Leslie would have something to say about
that. She had already had the science division overhaul Ward's bug suit. “It's
now three times sturdier,” Willard had told him.  

Lieutenant Colonel Ramsey Hollis
was a tall “southern boy from South Carolina,” as he had introduced himself.
Hollis was a scruffy blond with the body of an Olympic diver. Well, that made
sense. Ward had always prided himself on staying in shape, and all of the Suns
were in top physical condition. Hollis, however, spent his days moving at
speeds that the most sophisticated watercraft could barely match. No matter how
advanced his bizarre astronaut-wet suit was, the physical strain on his body,
and the training he maintained to combat it, clearly showed in the rippling
muscles spread all over his otherwise lean body.

The Navy's former top Master
Diver. Another good sense of humor and prone to folksy sayings. If he'd heard
“That dog don't hunt” once, he'd heard it twenty times in the short period he'd
been around Hollis. So Ward liked him immediately. And he had made his own
supersuit. That was another thing Ward could relate to. But there was a strange
sadness to Hollis. He was like a man who had seen too much. True, he was older
than most of the other Suns, but it was more than that. He and Bailey shared
some kind of past that had bonded both men in a way that the other team members
lacked.

He was dressed in the silver-and-grey
diving suit. It looked uncomfortable as hell on dry land. Up close, you could
tell that it was as much armor as wet suit. Hollis had explained to him that it
was like a super-tough shark-repellant type of material. That’s what Hollis had
been going for when he designed it, anyway. At least he wasn’t wearing the part
that went over his head, which was made of the same material as the bodysuit.
Instead, it was draped and folded around his neck, the blue eye lights glowing
into his sandy-blond hairline.

And then there was Rachel Dodge.
She had a sexy confidence about her that was irresistible. Rachel had a long,
angular face with prominent cheekbones and full, pouty, blood-red lips. Her
dark brunette hair was accented with subtle blonde highlights. Her figure was
thin but muscular and unnaturally curvy. She’d been an exotic dancer in
college. Fifteen years later she still had the body of a centerfold.

Maybe it was because he was the
only one there who just wanted to defend Boston and was not trying to win some
national rebellion, but far from inappropriate, he found her playful spirit
dangerously attractive. Dangerous because he was in a committed relationship
with Alison. An emotionally and logistically important relationship. Not one he
wanted to endanger or damage. So, while he would have liked to get to know her
better, even if it was just to be friends, he felt he needed to keep his
distance. No need to play with fire.

And that was too bad, because
outside of Bailey, Rachel seemed to have made few friends. She and Sophia had
already sparked plenty of friction. Two very different kinds of women. Leslie
was too much of a leader to be close friends with—sometimes everyone's den
mother, sometimes just simply the boss, and other times she was easily the
smartest person in a room full of geniuses. But best friend? Only Revolution
could count someone like her as his best friend—which he seemed to.

But Rachel was smart, too. She
tried to hide it, and Ward had been around plenty of women of privilege who tried
to hide their obvious talents under a facade of trophy-wife triteness. Same
thing here. Rachel always downplayed it when asked, but she had helped to make
invisibility a reality—something the intelligence community had given up on.

No, he liked Stealth; he didn't
care what the others thought. She clicked and clacked on the wooden floor as
she strutted to her seat in stiletto heels and a plunging neckline, but she was
draped by the black cloak that gave her the ability to disappear at will. She
shot Ward a sweet smile, and he felt himself blush.

CHAPTER
37

T
he
Suns were asked to be seated.

Leslie spoke first. “We will call
this meeting to order. You have all been briefed on the proposal. You've each
had a chance to meet one-on-one with the team members.”

Ward smiled at the memory of
meeting with the members of COR. They had done their homework about his life,
and yet they had each been careful not to push any buttons. It seemed the whole
gathering today was just a dog and pony show. He'd heard “If the General has
confidence in you, I have confidence in you,” or some variation of the theme,
so many times he had lost count.

“Are there any final questions you
have for our candidates?” she asked.

The scarlet-haired representative
from California leaned into his microphone. “Director Bailey, you have been the
man on the inside for the Resistance since before there was a Resistance. Are
you certain you want to step out of the shadows at this time?”

Bailey smiled at the double
entendre “step out of the shadows.” But when he wanted to, Bailey could speak
with an authority few others could match. Maybe it was the gravel in his voice,
or the slow menacing manner in which he leaned into the microphone to speak. “I
am, Congressman.” The congressman didn’t ask a follow-up. No one did.

The members of COR sat silent,
confident in what they were about to do. “By a show of hands then,” Leslie
continued. “All in favor of the creation of the Suns of Liberty?” All fifty
members raised their hands.

Ward marveled at Leslie's command
of the room. The Revolution stood and bowed slightly, then returned to his
seat.
Amazing how formal everything is
, Ward thought. They really took
it all very seriously.

“We will now hear from the leader
of military operations on the first planned use of this team,” Leslie said.

Military operations?
Ward
felt himself shake his head. Then he glanced around to make sure no one had
noticed. Rachel was grinning. She made a quick glance at him out of the corner
of her eye and then dropped a poker face.

Revolution rose and strode forward
to his normal chair and punched a few buttons on a side panel near one of the
armrests. Video monitors on all four walls blinked to life as the overhead
lights in the room automatically dimmed. “Lantern has identified three decoy
destroyers anchored in Boston Harbor. We believe these ships are there to
discover the base of our operations in the city and represent a major
escalation of their activities there.” The COR representatives were all opening
a report on the proposed operation that they had all clearly read ahead of
time.

“Is this in response to our
rumor?” asked the representative from Idaho.

“Yes, we believe so.” Revolution
zoomed in on a close-up photo of the ships with Lantern's digi-sphere image
superimposed. “The nighttime security crews are surprisingly light. We propose
an attack on these installations that will result in no casualties and maximum
publicity for the new team. Specifically, Saratoga’s defection.”

“How can you guarantee no
casualties?” asked the rep from New York, pointedly.

“Because of Spider Wasp.”

Lots of eyes turned toward him,
and Ward felt himself blush again.

“He has the unique ability to take
out the guards on each ship before they will even know what hit them.”

Several of the members seemed to
nod in agreement to this—more signs they really had done their homework on the
members of the team. “Helius will provide air cover, while Hunley attacks from
below. Lantern will lead the way and show us exactly where to strike. Stealth
will gather as much internal data as we can find. I can provide the muscle on
the ships themselves, and Saratoga will be our escape route.” Revolution
stepped back out to the center table and awaited their decision with the rest
of the team.

Leslie rose again and peered about
the room, letting the members gather their thoughts. Finally, she said, “Is
there discussion?” The members of COR glanced about themselves. Several shook
their heads. They’d come here with their minds made up on this matter as well.

“I think this a momentous day. I
move we make a motion to approve,” said the rep from New York.

“I second,” said the rep from
Idaho.

“All in favor?” Leslie asked.
Their hands all flew up. Leslie paused for a moment. She looked out at the members
of the Suns of Liberty “For too long we have depended on the actions of one man
to represent us. To protect us. It was always an impossible task.” Ward glanced
over at the Revolution, who did not react at all. “Now,” Leslie continued, “you
are his reinforcements. The people cannot defend themselves. The Republic has
no champions, other than you. I can’t tell you how important this is. We have
already lost so much. Paid so high a price.” Ward noticed that tears had formed
in Leslie’s eyes, but her voice was still strong. It wavered only slightly. And
suddenly Ward wondered about Leslie. He’d been told she had no children. But
what of a husband? Hadn’t she been married? He tried to remember what he had
known about her prior to the Purge and her disappearance. Maybe she
did
have children and a husband. And maybe they had been taken from her or killed.
Or both.

“You have all been chosen because
you are the best of the best,” she continued. “Your country needs you.” Ward
felt a shiver run down his spine. Leslie could really say what needed to be
said in just the right way. “We need you,” she finished. “To work together. To
make us proud. To protect us. To free us. To give us back our Republic.” She
paused one last time. Then looked them dead in the eyes. “God bless you, and
God bless the United States of America.”

And with that, the Suns of Liberty
were back on their way to Boston.

CHAPTER
38

“G
et
in!” Bailey yelled at Ward over the roar of the rotors, his native New Jersey
accent barely discernible. “And put your helmet on. Been a while since I flew
one of these things, ya know? Could get kinda hairy!”

Great.
Ward snapped on the
Spider Wasp helmet and stepped up into the bay of the helicopter.

Once he was in and looking for a
place to sit with his bulky jet wings, Bailey leaned back, smiled, and said in
a quieter voice, “Just kidding. I fly 'em all the time.”

“Got my own wings, just in case,”
Ward said.

“You need some breasts to go with
those wings, chicken legs?”
Rachel
. He turned. She was behind him,
looking right at him, so he had to smile. “Gonna help a lady in?” She extended
her hand to him. She smiled her seductive grin. Did she have any other? She was
more than capable of getting into the chopper bay on her own. This woman was
trouble.

“Have you seen the pecs on Bailey
up there? I think we have all we need already,” Ward quipped. Rachel just made
a face as she took his hand, and Ward noticed Saratoga staring him down in the
reflection off the windshield.

Not amused. He'd clearly not figured
out Bailey's sense of humor yet. 

The chopper banked hard from its turn, and the
lights from the harbor glimmered on the horizon. It was a Sikorsky Zebra Wing
Raider 1100. Sleeker, smaller, and more angular than those that had come before
it. The main body looked a lot like a jet. The CIA used them routinely, and
Bailey had stolen this one a long time ago. Amazing what you could do with a
few accounting errors. “Midnight to moon pies, boys, time to bail out!” Bailey
yelled back at them. Ward was pretty sure that meant it was time for him and
Sophia to fly on their own. It was hard to tell with Bailey sometimes.

“You can stick your
boys
up
your ass, Bailey!” Sophia snapped back at him, but her smile sounded in her
voice. Bailey just smirked back, and Ward saw Sophia Lihn suppress her grin as
she strapped on the black glider’s helmet. Even Sophia must have had some
history with Bailey. Was he the only one that didn't then?  As he prepared
to fling himself out of a fast-moving helicopter, praying he would not be
sliced up by any of the whirling blades, he thought he would ask about Bailey's
history when they made it back to base.
If
they made it back...