7:00 a.m.
And everyone was tired.
Too little sleep, too much intrigue, a flight, a fight, sitting at a hospital...
Scout had already said it the day before - they needed a day off.
Hawk looked around the room. Everyone was just... deflated. That was the word that came to mind. Their mission had been a bust, nothing had been done. It was the same-ole'/same-ole' for a failed mission. Still, they had more checks in the win column, but this loss could have been devastating.
Scout was listening to some Intel reports, giving Tank a break from the long monotonous litany of the latest Dread updates. Tank was checking everyone's weapons. Jon was keeping close to Jennifer, and Jennifer was sitting on the regeneration bed, still hurting and moving slowly. That meant it had been a good idea for Hawk to fly back to the base and get the jumpship so she could ride home in comfort rather than staying balanced on a skybike the whole way back. But where was that doctor? They wanted to know Jennifer's condition before they left.
Watching Jon and Jennifer together, Hawk was certain that more was going on between them than just nightly chess games, only he didn't know exactly how far it had gone. He had a few theories, but no facts. But in any case, all the stunts he, Scout and Tank had been pulling lately seemed to have had a positive effect in that relationship.
Plus, there was no way to know what stunts Jon and Jennifer had pulled to work on a relationship.
Scout pulled the microphone from his ear. "Story's hitting the airwaves," he said. "Not the whole truth, and no one's saying anything against Freedom One. Just that there was an attack and Freedom Two taking her place."
"Is Dread making any moves?" Jon asked.
"A lot," Tank answered. "With this many major Resistance teams all on the East Coast, he's trying to cause trouble back in the Midwest. Cypher called in, suggested we should go back in that direction. Get some boots on the ground."
Hawk glanced at Jennifer who was being unusually silent. Jon helped her stand up, being expectedly over-concerned. "You okay to travel?"
She nodded.
"Oh, Jennifer," Scout got her attention. "Just got a tightbeam comm message from Hank. He's in the area, said he was coming here..." he paused as he held the communicator out to her.
"How am I going to tell him about Gundar?" Jennifer muttered to herself as she took the device. "They were friends for years."
"This way?" a deep, slightly gruff voice, somewhat familiar, sounded from outside echoed into the room. "But she's okay?"
Jennifer glanced toward the door and then slowly turned. "Looks like I'll get to do this in person."
"That's Hank?" Scout asked.
Jennifer nodded.
Then, in walked a young, good-looking blonde fellow, maybe a little younger than Scout, dressed in coveralls. He saw her immediately and headed over to her. "Jenny? You okay?" he asked as he took her into a gentle bear hug, then let go the moment he heard Jennifer's sharp intake of breath. "How bad are you hurt? Word around here is that you took on Blastarr. A biodread? What -"
"Hank, take it easy. I'm fine. Just bruised," she protested. "It was just a fight."
"With a biodread."
"With a big biodread," she agreed. "But I'm still in one piece."
Hank glanced at her up and down. "Okay. If you say so."
"I say so. Trust me. I can handle myself in a fight."
Hank smiled at her. "Yeah. I've found that out over the years."
Hawk cleared his throat. "Jennifer, who's this?"
Jennifer smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry. Guys, this is Hank. He's a friend of mine from the UTO. You should see him work on a ship's engine. He's a magician. Best mechanic they have."
"Only she won't let me touch her jumpship," Hank corrected. "She's a bit picky about who does the repair work on her. She did let me hand her the tools once when she was tuning up the braking thrusters. That's about as close as I ever got to her baby."
THAT was Hank? That was the person she was joking with over the comm? Every single male member of the Power Team was staring at the young man in disbelief. From what they believed, Hank was a much older man, not someone as young as the man standing before them.
"He's Hank?" Hawk felt utterly deflated. Again. Here was a young, good-looking pilot, closer to Jennifer's age, seemingly closer to her in likes and dislikes, and he held her hand just a little too long for Hawk's peace of mind. And that hug? Jennifer wasn't the least bit standoffish.
This wasn't good.
He glanced over at Jon and saw a worried frown on his face. Uh oh, does Jon have competition?
"Where the hell is everybody?" An even gruffer voice from the hallway tore through the thick silence.
That voice sounded a little more familiar. It sounded more like the one who gave 'eye-in-the-sky' reports about Dread.
"In here, Dad," Hank called back.
Then, an older man, rough and grizzled, looking like a cross between a mountain man, a crop duster and an automobile mechanic from the early 20th century walked into the room. No, that wasn't right. Not exactly. He was definitely someone rough-around-the-edges though. He almost charged impatiently into the room. He looked around and said, "What, somebody throw a party and not invite me?"
"That's what you get for not checking your messages," Jennifer joked back as the new person walked over and pulled her into another gentle hug.
"I never check those things," he said, looking down at her. "What the hell, Jenny? Word is Dread almost took out the main Resistance leadership? You took on Blastarr? Took down some bigwig Dreadie overunit? Freedom One's dead?" His eyes looked up and glanced over every other member of the Power Team. "And where were these lugs while you were going fifteen rounds with a biobum?"
Jennifer put a placating hand on his arm. "Did you ever think it was a group effort?" she asked.
The look Hank gave her left no one in doubt that he didn't believe that statement.
Hank Junior laughed. "That did it. You're coming to the new flying group Dad's helping get together. That way, I can keep an eye on you."
Jennifer put her hands carefully on her hips. "Excuse me?" she asked in mock indignation. "Keep an eye on me? I've been taking care of myself for quite some time now, and I've gotten pretty good at it," she joked.
The rest of their conversation was in lower tones. Hank Senior walked over to the rest of the team and sized each one of them up. Then, he put out his hand to Jon. "You must be the captain," he said as Jon shook his hand. "I'm Hank. We talked the other day."
"I gathered that much." Jon's eyes couldn't leave Jennifer and Hank Junior. She seemed so comfortable with the young man. Then, "Tank, Scout, are the skybikes loaded on the jumpship?"
That was a subtle hint, wasn't it?
"Uh, we're on it, Captain," Tank said as he tugged on Scout's arm to follow him out of the room. Hawk decided to follow them. There was one thing Hawk knew from experience - sometimes, a little jealousy could be a good thing. Jon had already heard the others talk about Elzer's behavior toward Jennifer. Now Hank Junior? Time to see if Jon had a connection with the green-eyed monster.
~0~0~0~0~0~
There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence between Hank Senior and Jon while Jennifer and Hank Junior continued to talk.
Then Hank Senior glanced back at his son and Jennifer, and then in a whispered voice, "Jealous much?"
Jon almost glared at him.
"Been trying to get those two together for years," Hank confided to them. "Never saw two people who got along that good when they met. You should hear them discussing how fast they can make an engine go. Hell, I guess me and her sound the same when we're discussing flying tricks. But she's not interested in him that way. Someone else has her attention." He glanced back at Jon. "It'd take someone special, that's for sure. Not much gets through her focus, you know. My son's tried, but it doesn't go anywhere."
"I'm sure Jennifer knows her own mind," Jon suggested.
Hank nodded his head. "That she does. But you know, I love her like she was my own, and I wouldn't take kindly to anyone using her or hurting her because she's not as, let's just say, as worldly as other people might be?"
Jon took that as a subtle hint. Jennifer had a guardian angel, and he had been duly warned of his impending doom if he didn't behave like a gentleman. But how did Hank know that Jon had any feelings or intentions toward Jennifer?
"I feel the same way," Jon said.
"Good. Then we understand each other," Hank commented, smiling, as he playfully punched Jon in the shoulder. "She plays everything pretty close to the vest, but if you know how to read her, and there aren't many of us who can, you can tell what she's feeling sometimes."
"You call her Jenny," Jon pointed out.
"One of the few. To be honest, I think it's just me and my son who call her that."
Jon considered that. "Is there a story there?"
"Oh, not really. We just do it for fun." He glanced over at Jon and smiled at him. "She likes to be called Jennifer, so it gives us a bit of a standing with others if we're the only ones who can call her Jenny and get away with it."
Jon was beginning to understand why Jennifer was so fond of Hank. It wasn't just because of their shared past with the UTO or love of flying. Hank was genuinely fun to be around and was utterly non-judgmental.
"So, Jenny," he called out. "This is that captain you're working for? Gives Dread all those problems? Doesn't look like much to me."
"Appearances are deceiving?" she suggested.
Both Hanks chuckled. "Okay. We've got to go," Hank Senior said. "With the leadership making moves, they'll need to know where the Dreadies are from my traffic reports. But we heard you were here and wanted to check in on you before you got out of here. Make sure you were okay."
"Yeah, I'll be fine." Jennifer walked over to him and said, "Hank, Gundar was killed in a shoot-out."
Hank took a deep breath. "Yeah. I heard. Me and him, we went back a long way. Grew up on the same street in Lubbock, Texas. Went to the same high school. He was best man at my wedding. He was a rare one. Not many like him," he sighed. "Did you find out how he went?"
Jennifer shook her head. "Not enough time for that. His second, Elzer Polarski, is the one to ask for details."
"Freedom Two," Hank Junior said aloud. "He's already got people listening to him. Too bad about Freedom One though. We liked listening to her."
Neither Jennifer nor Jon said anything to mar their memory of the former radio host. Obviously, neither Hank knew that the bigwig Dread Overunit and Freedom One was the same person. People needed their heroes, even the ones who weren't real.
~0~0~0~0~0~
The doctor finally told Jennifer she could leave, and leave she did. She had always hated infirmaries, hospitals, clinics, so she hurried as quickly as she could outside with the rest of her team. Walking out to the hospital landing field, Jennifer glanced at her surroundings and stopped when she spotted a particular view. It was a nearly dried up river bed, but she could just see the other side, see the outline of what used to be a city. A name tickled the back of her memory. A lake? No. A river? Yes, a river.
She could almost hear a not-exactly-strange voice whisper in her mind. The Charles River.
A building near the shore... it looked familiar.
Across the nearly dry riverbed... those remains of what used to be a... town? Buildings?
And the bridge. She could remember a bridge...
She had the odd impression of lights reflecting in water...
At that moment, she realized she had no idea what their location was. "Hawk?"
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"Where are we? Exactly?"
Hawk looked around. "Boston. That used to be part of the Charles River. Used to empty into Boston Harbor. There was this really big bridge, but it's gone now."
Boston... something about Boston... what was she trying to remember? She remembered a bridge. She remembered a really big bridge, but which one? Where?
"Do you know this place?"
"Absolutely, I do," he said. Hawk glanced across the murky, almost-dead river. "Spent some time here. You should have seen this place years ago. Some miles that way, over the river, was Fort Alden. I think part of the outer wall's still standing... somewhere. It's a shame what Dread did to the place. It was the first place he attacked even before he joined with Overmind."
Jennifer squinted at the distance to see if she could see what Hawk was talking about. Boston? Fort Alden? "We're near where Fort Alden was?" she asked him.
"Yep. They put Concord and Lexington and Cambridge together into a huge fort. It was mostly scientists, researchers, their families, support personnel, all guarded by the military. It's the same story of the government ceding the land to the people with the most interests in the area. In this case, the lady the government ceded the land to - the same way they ceded Colorado Springs to Stuart - she was a former history professor at Harvard who inherited a large regional manufacturing company from her late father's estate. She got to name it, and she loved the story of Captain Miles Standish, Priscilla Mullins and John Alden, so she called it Fort Alden. There was a Standish Military Base and a Mullins Building Complex. She used the names from a few of the other pilgrims for the buildings."
Those names... something was familiar... wait - all that seemed to ring a bell. Something about the captain being too shy to speak to Priscilla Mullins so he asked John Alden to speak for him.
But then that sparked another memory. Some fairy tale perhaps? It was dancing in the back of her mind. A ship. A sailing ship... a famous sailing ship... something... "Did they meet on board a sailing ship?" she asked Hawk.
He nodded. "The Mayflower," he said with a smile. He pulled out a small pair of binoculars from his belt and pointed down the river. "See that rotting woodpile with the tall timber standing up from it?"
Jennifer focused the binoculars on the area Hawk pointed out. She could see what looked like the remains of a ship's skeleton with the mast one of the few recognizable features. "I see it."
"That's the replica of the Mayflower they built in 2120 to celebrate the 500th anniversary of when the Mayflower reached Massachusetts. History has them landing at Plymouth Rock, some stories have them landing at Cape Cod. A lot of the details have been lost. At least, I got told those stories when I was stationed here and visited Boston when I had leave. There were statues and street signs that told stories of the key people. There are a lot of subplots around the people on that ship. John Alden and Priscilla Mullins seem to be one that keeps hanging around."
She wasn't thinking about Fort Alden at that moment. She was remembering a voice telling a story. A woman's voice...
"Jennifer?" Jon called her name.
And the memory came to the front of her mind. It took form and flowed as if she had never forgotten it.
"Once upon a time, there was a man named Captain Miles Standish. He sailed on board the Mayflower with the... pilgrims? He fell in love with a woman named Priscilla Mullins, but he didn't know what to say to her or how to court her. He asked his friend, John Alden, to ask about her comfort, telling her that it was Captain Standish who wanted to know."
"That's a children's story," Hawk agreed. "I read it to my kids when they were little. How do you know it?"
"There was a poem," she said. How did it go?
"In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims,
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain."
The men looked at each other, then Tank said, "That's the Courtship of Miles Standish. Written by Longfellow. I haven't read that since I was in school, and I know we don't have a copy of it."
"Longfellow was a descendent of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins," Jennifer said. She shook her head as if trying to shake a memory loose. "The story was part of his family's oral tradition. There's nothing about it in history. It was just a family tale. He put it in a poem." She looked at them. "I remember someone telling me that story... a woman. Or at least hearing it somewhere."
"What else?" Jon asked her.
She glanced at the dried up river bed... lights. She remembered lights flickering on the water. She remembered people. She remembered music. And dancing. But was she remembering a memory or was she only thinking she was? Maybe it was just something she read and visualized...
"Jennifer?" Hawk prompted her.
"Something like a party or festival -"
"By a lake or a river?" Tank asked.
She nodded her head. "People in strange clothes dancing to music. String instruments, I think. Flutes of some kind? No, they weren't flutes." She tried to remember, but all she had was this one flash of a memory of walking, someone holding her hand, the water on her right side with the reflection of lights dancing on the water, grownups all around her dancing and singing, nighttime, people sitting at wooden tables and eating - the memory may have been of only a two or three second moment. "A festival of some kind?"
"One of the river festivals," Tank concluded. "There used to be a lot of them before the wars. They're the offshoots of the Renaissance Festivals that became popular in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. They'd travel from town to town, wearing period clothes and playing celtic or medieval music."
"Sounds like you went to one before you were taken," Jon added.
Maybe she had gone to a festival? If she had, wouldn't she have remembered it before that moment?
Hawk pointed toward the dry river bed. "Maybe the river jarred a memory," he guessed. "There used to be a lot of the river festivals all over the country in the spring and fall. Here, they had a few every month during those seasons. I went to some myself. Oktoberfest was one I really enjoyed. The Pancake Festival... Joanna loved the Boston Arts Festival. But the river festivals were my favorite."
Something was jogging her memory, but what was it? Her dream, the one she'd had since childhood... "Statues... Hawk, you mentioned statues. What did you mean?"
Hawk laughed. "There are lots of them. Especially Revolutionary War statues. This area played a big part in the early Revolutionary War."
It didn't mean that she had been to a river festival in Boston or at the Charles River or saw statues that were in the area, but maybe wherever she came from, it was a clue? Maybe it was a real memory and not a dream? Maybe wherever she was from was similar to the area they were in?
And if it was a real memory, why was Boston tingling at the edge of her mind? Had she been there before? Even if it was just to attend a festival?
Maybe it was a real memory, not just a dream or something from her imagination?
~0~0~0~0~0~
Dread paced.
He detested pacing. It was a human weakness, showing impatience and an unwillingness to accept facts as they were presented.
He glanced at the communicator. Still nothing from Larabee.
Where was she? Why hadn't she called in? Where was Blastarr?
Dread paced.
Finally, Blastarr contacted him through the secure frequency. "My lord?"
"Report, Blastarr."
"Power and the other Resistance leaders escaped."
Was that why Larabee had not reported in? "What of Overunit Larabee?"
"Taken prisoner, my lord."
Prisoner? The plan failed. But maybe not the entire plan. "Power's pilot is dead?"
"My sensors read no life signs after the battle with her."
At least one thing had gone right even if the rest of the plan had been a failure. The pilot's loss should demoralize Jon and give Dread the advantage in battle.
"Return home, my warlord."
