He lay atop her for the longest, taking in her scent, feeling her breathe, holding her tight in his arms. Finally, long after he’d slipped out of the gooey, sticky, musky mess that was now her privates, he rolled off and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he offered it to her. Still lying prone, exhausted and blissful, she wrinkled her nose and shook her head. He shrugged and put it to his lips, drawing in a deep, satisfying drag as he lit it.
“Ummm,” Jocko wiped his brow, the crotch of his sweats now sticky as well. “Could I get one of those too?”
***
“Alpha Actual, this is Delta Foxtrot One, we are inbound to your coordinates with an ETA of three minutes.”
Delta Foxtrot One, this is Alpha Actual. You are to execute Phase Five. I repeat … execute Phase Five now.”
“Roger that, Alpha Actual, Phase Five is now operational,” Number Three informed Frost that he understood the situation was now too hot, and he was hanging back until he received further instructions. Once he did this, he switched his PDC over to a private line.
“Report!” Frost was awaiting him anxiously, as he watched ZiP interceptors coming in fast.
“The bird had flown the nest by the time we got there, sir.” Number Three had led the team sent to raid Jocko’s apartment.
“Yeah well, I think I know where he flew to. Did you retrieve any data?”
The pause on the other end told Frost everything before the man even spoke again. “No, sir. He booby-trapped everything. As soon as we attempted to remove a hard drive, it initiated some sort of self-destruct protocol. Sonofabitch had his computers wired. They almost blew up in our faces. We got out just in time.”
“So, you got nothing?” Frost fought the frustration and rage building in him.
“Negative. Not only did the computers blow, but he also must’ve hacked into the apartment complex’s electrical and alarm systems. The sprinkler system went off, the lights went out, and the tornado siren started blaring. It was chaos. People panicking and running everywhere. We pulled out just before the cops got there.”
“Alright,” Frost sighed in exasperation. “Keep your powder dry. You’re the only operational team I have at the moment, so your night’s not done.”
“We’re racked and charged, sir.”
“A VertiGo Pegasus just left our location heading north. It shouldn’t be too hard to track. Not too many of those are left around. And this one is bleeding out. I need you to find it and track it. Do not engage it. Alpha Base has patched into a DOD satellite and we’re going to use it to track him. Just lay back and wait for my instructions. Is that clear?”
“Crystal, sir.”
“Good, get on it.”
Chapter 7
“Look alive, kiddies!” Jock chastised the two lovers lounging lazily in the backseat. “I need to know where we’re going from here.”
“Huh? Oh yeah,” replied Tiger, slightly embarrassed at having to be roused from the cuddly afterglow of his coupling with Amber. Rising up, he slid the well-satisfied Amber off him. Buttoning himself back up, he fought to clear the last remnants of the musky love fog from his head. Playtime was over. Unfortunately, reality had gone nowhere. It had waited patiently the whole time. “Where are we now?”
“Coming up on the Shoals area.” Jocko reported.
“Turn southeast … toward Decatur,” he instructed as he sat up and leaned over the front seat, looking over the instrumentation. “How bad did we get beat up?”
“I shut Number Two down.” Jock briefed him as he had the Pegasus’ computer display a damage report. “Looks like the main housing was penetrated and the engine core itself was damaged. Believe it or not, the old gal was actually still running when we left.”
“That’s my girl!” Tiger patted the seat like a proud father.
“Yeah, but she was losing core containment out the exit hole. The coolant line must’ve got nicked. She was bleeding out and we were getting critically low.”
“Good job,” Tiger slapped the man in a comradely manner on the shoulder. “Not bad for an old keyboard jockey.”
“That’s the good news.”
“Oh?” Tiger didn’t like the sound of that. Didn’t like it; not one little bit.
Jock instructed the onboard computer to continue with the damage report. As Tiger read, Jock continued to narrate. “Looks like the vectoring servos were damaged too.”
“Ouch!” Tiger gritted his teeth as he read. “That’s gonna make it real adventurous when we try to set down again.”
“I figure it’d be just another day at the office for badass Tiger Thomas.” Jocko tried to sound devil-may-care, but he couldn’t keep his voice even enough. It cracked and was high-pitched, betraying the panic the man was trying hard to conceal.
“Yeah, well this office sure as hell ain’t what it used to be.” Tiger more than shared his friend’s fear. The thought of trying to land a crippled Pegasus with little … or possibly no VTOL capability … he repressed a shudder of his own. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“You love it and you know it.”
“That ain’t got nothing to do with getting too old for it.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
Yep … always what am I gonna do? Whether it was a shipload of colonists bound for Mars when the oxygen recycler went out mid-voyage or a picket line full of anxious and scared strikers at Mojave Spaceport when Galactic Express rolled up their busload of scab pilots imported from India. Leading the way was a hover truckload of company goons, wielding their brass knuckles and fifty-thousand-volt shocksticks.
It was always the same. Tiger, what are you gonna do?
“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he replied solemnly. No need to whistle past the graveyard. A Pegasus was a hovercraft
