Is it a sin that Wheeler is my favorite Planeteer? I don't know why I find so intriguing smooth-talking and wisecrackers characters.
Anyway, here's the background : this story is set in 2014. In 1992 the gang broke up for reasons I'll elaborate in later chapters. They went their separate ways, their beliefs shattered and their ideals broken. So, basically, they are now far more cynical and realistic than before. But as they are drawn together again to face the same threat that broke them apart, a lot of old feelings flare up again...
Since our favorite Yankee was always portrayed as a straightforward fighter, I decided to have him make quite a jump from his precedent stance and pursue a Navy career. Yet, this may be the key to success of their mission...
The Navy nickname I gave to Wheeler is an homage to Herman Wouk and his character "Pug" Henry of the Winds of War series books.
I don't own any character.
Chapter 1 : Not Again!
"Come in!" The tone of the voice was as no-nonsense as the expression of the tall, muscular man with red hair who spoke. The intimidated Lieutenant barely managed to utter : "The mail, sir!" "Put in on my desk!" the man went on, not even bothering to look up from the papers he was looking at. The officer put the envelope on the desk and was dismissed.
Captain Jason "Pug" Wheeler finished understanding what that goddamned idiot of Commander Clark at NAVSUP wanted from him and put down the papers. His eyes were glistening with barely hidden ferocity; it was an open secret that, as much as he was a rising star in the navy, and as much as he was one of the best choices when you had to choose someone to fight, he hated those bureaucrats who found the meaning of their life in making life to others impossibly complicated. He was renowned for having led a solitary battle when he was CAG on the old Enterprise against a clique of particularly thick-headed mandarins of the BUPERS, which he won after he proved his headed was way rockier than theirs.
As he mentally cursed for the zillionth time in the day the man who invented bureaucracy, he took the small envelope; when he touched it he noticed it carried something. Curious, he opened it, and a all too familiar ring clinked down on the table.
"Oh, my God!" he breathed, as he sat down on his chair, completely stunned. His mind was invaded by images of a life he had virtually forced himself to forget, because its premises had been destroyed. Yet, as the images flashed as fireworks, he felt, under the intense and superficial irritation, something deeper and scarier : nostalgia.
He shook himself out of it, reasserting control over his mind as he reasserted control when something unexpected happened and some young idiot with insufficient experience let confusion in. He angrily looked at the tiny bit of metal that had unexpectedly returned into his life, yet he was afraid to pick it up, even to throw it away.
His phone buzzed. He picked it up, and his aide, a capable young officer, said : "Captain, message from the CNO. He wants you to meet him at the Pentagon this afternoon, at 1630 hours." "Thank you, Lieutenant. Make it so!" Wheeler answered automatically, too wrapped up in the ring problem to wonder why the hell Admiral Wilkins wanted to see him.
ORDERSORDERSORDERS
"Pug! Exactly the man I wanted to see!" The hoarse voice of the CNO was as familiar to Wheeler as the sly smile he exhibited under the gold-framed glasses. They were on good terms since Wilkins was commanding Task Force 20 and he was on the Big E.
After all the civilities, the Admiral leaned back on his chair, and, after giving him a serious glare, he began : "I'm afraid I have something to say to you that might prove... disturbing, Captain!" Wheeler gave an uncompromising nod. Wilkins showed him some satellite photos that were on the desk : photos of an island. Whose shape gave him another pang of fear under his respectful visage he had developed long ago.
"This island popped up in the Atlantic two days ago; I don't mean it was formed up by some geological event, or something like that, it just was there when the day before there was only water... or at least that was what our satellites showed us. We tried to fly some recon plane, but for some reason, as they approached the location everything started to malfunction, and went back to normal only when they turned for home. As far as we've been told officially by diplomatic means and unofficially by CIA and NSA, all the other nations don't have the slightest idea of what is happening... apart from what it was told to the public some years ago, in your public appearances." Wilkins' eyes were fixed on his, but Wheeler didn't show any emotion. The Admiral then went on : "I'm not saying you are implicated in this, because I know you and your sense of duty well, and anyone with a brain in his skull instead of bricks agrees that you would never keep us in the dark about this; but you were involved in this... Planeteer business, and so you may give us some answers."
After a thoughtful silence, the Captain asked : "How do I do it, sir?" "Do you think your boys on the Jerry F are ready for something else than drills?" Wilkins asked, folding his hands on his prominent abdomen. The redhead grinned. "Oh, was I waiting for this!"
ORDERSORDERSORDERS
"Commander, we sail tomorrow towards this position. All shore leave are suspended; I don't want anyone to be left behind, we might need everyone we can put our hands on. I hope we shall be ok with supplies and ammunition." Commander Steve Hawkins, a good guy and a goddamn good XO, but a tiny bit too melodramatic, while picking up the papers answered dramatically : "We'll be ready for anything, sir! Even to go smash the Russians themselves!" "Doh!" Wheeler groaned mentally; Hawkins loved to joke around pretending to be a hardliner from the Cold War era. He felt the urge to heal him by shoving his face on the bulkhead, but decided to just mumble : "Well, I got a feeling that fighting the Russian might be a cakewalk, confronted on what awaits us!" He felt considerable pleasure seeing how the absolutely sincere comment had wiped the playfulness off the Commander's face.
After he had retreated to the sanctuary of his quarters, he stood there a long time, reflecting on the fact that it was impossible that the reappearance of the ring and the appearance of the once-undetectable Hope Island on the satellite screens of the world were not connected. That thought sent shivers down his spine; and forced him to make the biggest step of his life, and take from a drawer a small index book. The last connections with the individuals he once considered family.
However, it proved to be a moot point. After five phone calls, he put down the phone, now really scared. All of the former Planeteers had effectively vanished : Linka had left his teaching position in St. Petersburg some weeks ago, Kwame hadn't reported to the Lagos police department he worked with since a while, Gi hadn't checked in by the International Maritime Organization's Office in Bangkok, and Ma-Ti's friends hadn't seen him in months now.
"Damn it, what the hell is happening here?" Wheeler frustratedly passed a hand in his hair, a common gesture when he was nervous. The others were unreachable, and only then he realized how much he had longed to reach out to them, to hear that they had received their rings back (no doubt on that, he was sure), and to concoct some kind of plan. For the last twenty years of his life he had learned how to not need anyone else in his life, but now the notion that for the time being he was effectively alone scared the hell out of him.
He was so annoyed by the situation and by his own fear that he abruptly picked up the ring, and closely looked at it. It didn't seem to be active, yet... he knew it was a sign. That what he thought had finished 22 years before had at last reached him. His fingers closely clenched it, maybe hoping that it would break and prove it was a false, that he wasn't forced to confront his own past.
He put it down, and his eyes were full of sadness. He had deluded himself into thinking he could choose his own destiny, that he could disregard everything that had happened back in that time. But he was just a man; and men couldn't hope to keep fate away too long.
"Guess I can't escape from you, huh?" he grumpily asked the ring. "Guess I can't escape... from what I was..." He looked into a mirror; the no-nonsense naval officer he saw was very different in appearance from the cocky boy he once was. Yet, he heard his voice correct : "I can't escape from what I am!"
Ok, just a few pointers for those who aren't familiar with Navy jergon :
NAVSUP : Naval Supply System Command
CAG : Commander, Air Group (the guy who commands the planes of a carrier)
BUPERS : Bureau of Personnel
CNO : Chief of Naval Operations
The Jerry F is the nickname I decided the ship that Wheeler commands (the currently-building carrier USS Gerald Ford) should get.
The ORDERS sequence is just a little something to separate paragraphs.