Daedelus - Flight Lieutenant Holden©
Chapter 1
"Lieutenant! Are you with us this morning?"
Flight Lieutenant Michael Holden snapped out of his daydream as his CO shouted him at for the second time that morning. He still hadn't gotten over the news he had received the other day. And news like that was not to be taken lightly . . .
He was a mid height, mid looks, middle of the road guy with brown hair and bright blue eyes and ever since his first day of training with The Royal Air Force at the tender age of 18, Mike Holden had had a reputation. Not only had he shown initiative and willingness to do whatever was necessary, he had also shown nerves that went beyond sanity. That had earned him the nickname and subsequent call sign of 'The Stand'. It also went with his name as the other men and women in his squad had soon caught onto in the first 5 minutes in basic training.
But despite this proven vigour and grit, Lt. Mike 'The Stand' Holden was absolutely scared out of his wits. He had been called up to see Air Commodore Roberts and even 'The Stand' was afraid of him.
Air Commodore Roberts was known throughout the British armed forces as one of the meanest sons of bitches ever to wear a military uniform. You said one thing wrong or didn't salute him when you where supposed to; and you were on a one way ticket to the furthest point you can get away from everything you hold dear. The Sahara Desert was a favourite place of his to send people. Although he was normally a stickler for the rules, he knew what had to be done, even if it bent or broke some of his beloved rules. This meant that he was well respected, if not liked, by the people under him and generally seen as a good commander. He wasn't a pencil pusher but a proven leader. He had earned his rank alongside the men and women he commanded.
"The Commodore will see you now Flight Lieutenant," said the receptionist as Lt. Holden waited nervously to meet his maker.
Lt. Holden marched into the office and snapped off the perfect salute. Air Commodore Roberts was a tall, stout man in his mid fifties. He looked his age due to his greying hair and moustache, but his deep brown eyes still held the diligence of someone half his age. He returned the salute and then just looked at him almost disgustedly, as Holden stood waiting for the verbal assault he was expecting.
"Are you going to stand there all day Flight Lieutenant? Or are you going to sit down?"
Almost shocked, Lt. Holden found his voice, and then legs.
"Yes Sir" he said, and awkwardly sat down.
"I'll get straight to the point Lieutenant. You are here for two reasons; one is that you have been, for the third time in as many weeks, fighting while on shore leave. And I was going to have you sent somewhere rather unpleasant."
As he said this, a lump formed in Holden's throat.
"But as it happens, you are to be sent somewhere, unpleasant, anyway. This leads me to the second reason."
Roberts leant back in his expensive and comfortable chair, preparing himself for the rush of vindictive pleasure that he always felt when dispatching personnel to undesirable corners of the world.
"Although I hate to admit it, you are one of the best pilot's I have ever seen in my many years in the RAF" he said "and as a result of this, you are to be sent to link up with the United States Air Force in a joint venture, hither too unheard of by the majority of the world. Now before I continue I must ask you to read this document".
Roberts slung a three-inch thick wad of paper at Holden.
"And if you agree with and accept the contents of this document, sign the contract of non-disclosure attached."
As Flight Lieutenant Michael Holden read through the small mountain of paperwork, an uncomfortable feeling began to take hold of him.