Battleflight (Lone Wolf Squadron Book 2), page 1
BATTLEFLIGHT
LONE WOLF SQUADRON™ BOOK TWO
JAMIE DAVIS
MICHAEL ANDERLE
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2022 LMBPN Publishing
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
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LMBPN Publishing
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Version 1.00, July 2022
eBook ISBN: 979-8-88541-692-4
Paperback ISBN: 979-8-88541-693-1
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2022 by Michael T. Anderle.
THE BATTLEFLIGHT TEAM
JIT Readers
Veronica Stephan-Miller
Misty Roa
Daryl McDaniel
Deb Mader
Diane L. Smith
Rachel Beckford
Dave Hicks
Dorothy Lloyd
Peter Manis
Zacc Pelter
Jackey Hankard-Brodie
Kelly O’Donnell
John Ashmore
Jeff Goode
If I missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
Lynne Stiegler
To the excellent beta team who reviewed the book and made sure it was true to this amazing Kurtherian™ universe, thank you. Larry, Rachel, Kelly, James, John, and especially Nat, you all made this a better story and a lot more fun to write.
— Jamie
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
to Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
to Live the Life We Are
Called.
— Michael
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Author Notes - Jamie Davis
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Connect with the authors
Other Series By Jamie Davis
Books By Michael Anderle
CHAPTER ONE
Gardus Sector, Federation Ship Indomitable, Deep Space Recon Patrol
Second Lieutenant Remington Canaleta checked his readouts to make sure the sensor data he and his wingmate had collected was being transmitted to the enormous starship ahead. Long-range deep-space recon missions were among the most boring of duties unless you ran into an enemy creeping around the frontiers of the Etheric Federation. Then they became all too exciting.
This three-day mission was the boring kind.
He opened his comm and reached out to his wingmate Second Lieutenant Jock Batten. “Growler, I opened a channel to Indomitable. I’m sending the telemetry data from our patrol. Do you have that report written yet? It would be nice to submit it at the same time.”
“Negative, Six-shooter. I got sidetracked on some recipe ideas for when we get back.”
“Aw, come on, dude! You promised you’d do it. I don’t want to have to wait for your sorry ass to get finished before I can leave the flight deck. My bunk is calling my name.”
“You won’t say that when you find out what I came up with.” The other pilot’s enthusiasm dripped from his voice as he continued. “We’ve been claiming our booze uses one of the recipes Team BMW served in All Guns Blazing back on the Meredith Reynolds, right?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell me you finally figured out why ours tastes like turpentine, not fine Earth Scotch?”
“Yep. It has to do with the ingredients in the mash. If we do some wheeling and dealing, we can get the right combination of grains to make it right.”
Remi wanted to curse and also whoop for joy. If their endeavor to distill hard spirits in the depths of space had official taste buds, they belonged to Jock. He could get any eclectic collection of ingredients to ferment into decent alcohol. Remi’s engineering skills had made their stills work over the years, and Jock’s ingredients had made them shine.
“Look, I’m glad you figured that out, Growler, but we can’t do anything with it until the report’s finished. So start writing. There’s still time to get it done.” He checked the chrono and their plot in relation to the Indomitable. Their home ship was over an hour away. “I’ll add a note at the end of the telemetry stream that the report is forthcoming.”
“All right, Six-shooter, you win. Switching gears to boring Fleet pilot mode.”
Remi smiled and settled into his seat, his arms resting on the sides of the cockpit. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to rest for a few welcome minutes while they coasted through space in relative safety. There was nothing to worry about when they were this close to Indomitable. If anything came up, they’d launch the ready fighters from the deck before they required the deep-recon team to fight.
The catnap lasted forty-seven minutes. Then the comm’s chime woke him. He roused long enough to sit up and check the signal. He expected it to be from Jock. Instead, it was from the large ship in front of him, nearly filling the viewscreen now.
“Six-shooter here. Go ahead, Indomitable.”
“Six-shooter, this is Indomitable Flight Actual.”
Remi’s eyes widened. That was the chief of flight ops for the whole ship. What did she want from them that couldn’t wait until after their debrief? Surely there hadn’t been time to pore over their telemetry data and find an error.
“Go ahead, Flight Actual.”
“You and Growler are to skip flight debrief and proceed directly to my ready cabin upon landing. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He desperately wanted to ask her why, but he resisted. If she wanted him to know, she’d have told him. A thought nagged him—did this have something to do with their recon flight? “We’ll report as soon as we lock down after arrival.”
“See that you do. Flight Actual out.”
Remi switched channels. “Growler, this is Six-shooter. Did you copy that transmission?”
When his wingmate didn’t answer, Remi swiveled his torso and peered out the viewport to see if he was still on station. The other fighter was right where it should be.
Raising his voice, he repeated the call to Growler. A sleepy voice replied, “What? I’m here, I’m here.”
“Did you send the report like you were supposed to?”
“Um…I think so.”
“Double-check. I just heard from Pitbull.”
“What did she want? Why didn’t she wait until we landed?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. Check the log and make sure your report went off right after my telemetry stream.”
After a suspiciously long pause, Growler came back on. “I must’ve dozed off right before I hit send. You know that writing reports puts me to sleep. I’m sending it now, okay?”
“That’s fine, but I think it’s too late. Pitbull didn’t sound happy when she commed me a minute ago. She must’ve been watching for it and noticed it was missing. This is on you, dude. I expect you to own up to it. She already has it in for us.”
“She just doesn’t know how to have fun, that’s all. What kind of pilot can’t take a practical joke?”
“I let you convince me that it was a good idea to put blue dye in her shower head,” Remi growled. “It’s your fault it took weeks to wear off.”
“At least we figured out where she got the handle ‘Pitbull.’ She must be holding a grudge.”
Remi shook his head. “You think? Look, just get that report in. I’ll think of something to smooth this over. She’s been looking for an excuse to cut us down. This might be what does it. She’ll assign us to every long-range recon for the rest of this hitch if we’re not careful.”
He cut the channel so he wouldn’t have to listen to Jock’s protestations of inn
The next twenty minutes passed at a snail’s pace. By the time they finished the post-flight checklists and locked down, passing control to the flight deck’s crew, visions of their possible punishments filled Remi’s head.
Jock didn’t seem bothered by the situation when he came around the back of his fighter. His grin was as mischievous as ever.
“What are you smiling at? The commander is waiting for us.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. What’s the worst thing they can do to us for failing to turn in a report? So, we get some extra duty hours. We can find a way to trade those away. We always do.”
Remi wished he had Jock’s confidence. They left the flight deck and wound through the warren of corridors until they reached the Flight Ops ready room. As soon as he walked through the doors, he knew this was not about the report.
The first clue was the presence of Indomitable’s exec. He would never be present for a paperwork snafu. They must have found the still. It was the only thing that could’ve brought the XO into the room. Remi wracked his brain to figure out how they’d found it when he and Jock had gone to greater lengths to hide it this time.
Both second lieutenants snapped to attention as they entered and saluted the officers. Even thickheaded Jock realized something unusual was happening.
As he held the salute, Remi’s eyes wandered to the corner of the room. Two grav trunks hovered by the back wall, and he recognized the stickers on the closer one. That was his. They’d packed up his cabin and personal effects while they were out on patrol.
Remi gulped. This was bad.
The exec returned their salutes but didn’t instruct them to be at ease. They stayed at attention. Commander Catherine “Pitbull” Nelson stayed behind her desk. “Gentlemen, do you know who Chief Petty Officer Gomez is?”
The pilots glanced at each other. Remi shook his head. “No, ma’am. Should we?” There were over a thousand people onboard Indomitable. It was impossible to know everyone outside of your operational area of command.
“By the time we’re done here, you’ll remember the name, I’m sure. CPO Gomez’s team threw a birthday party for him. They procured a special gift to celebrate the occasion, a bottle of spirits.”
A pit formed in Remi’s gut. Oh, fuck. They’d finally killed someone with their hooch.
Jock must’ve had the same thought. “He’s not dead, is he?”
“No, she’s not dead,” Pitbull snapped. “You should be thankful for that.”
The exec’s eyebrows lowered even farther, and his face darkened as blood rushed to the surface. “She is, however, blind. The ship’s surgeon told the captain she’ll require extensive nerve regeneration to recover her sight.”
Remi knew where this was going, but he had to ask. He looked Pitbull square in the eyes. “Are you sure this is connected to us, ma’am?”
Commander Nelson slid open a desk drawer and pulled out a glass bottle with a familiar label. She held it up, then turned it to read the writing on the side. “Authentic Earth Scotch, distilled from the recipe used by the folks at All Guns Blazing.”
Jock cleared his throat.
“Do you have something you’d like to add, Lieutenant?” the exec asked.
“You didn’t read the rest. It clearly says, ‘Approximated, using locally sourced ingredients. Some variation in taste and side effects may occur.’ It’s right below that first part.”
Commander Nelson squinted at the fine print. She didn’t look any friendlier when she returned her gaze to them. “Clearly, you’re familiar with the bottle and the label. That disclaimer doesn’t absolve you from responsibility for said spirits.”
Jock, ever the barracks lawyer, pushed even after Remi risked a quick “shhh” to shut him up. “It’s not our fault if someone drinks too much, ma’am. That’s not fair.”
A bellow came from the exec, who seemed to grow six inches. He loomed over the two pilots. “Not fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair. Not fair is having my weekly poker game broken up because the captain’s favorite bridge watch CPO is in the infirmary. Not fair is having him come down on me because there’s an illegal still on the ship that’s poisoning his crew. If it was within my power, I’d space both of you and be done with it!”
Pitbull jumped in. “It’s not, and you should be grateful. As it is, this is the last of all final straws for you two. I’ve had it with your shenanigans, and we can finally get rid of you.”
“Rid of us, ma’am?” Remi asked.
“Yes, rid of you. As of right now, you both are relieved of duty. You will board the next outbound shuttle to Fleet Sector HQ, where they will see to your disposition for these charges.” She lifted a pair of datapads from her desk and handed them to the pilots. “First, you’re going to give us the location of your still, as well as the names of every crewman to whom you sold or gave a bottle of your hooch. Then the shore patrol officers, who should be stationed outside by now, will escort you both to the shuttle bay to await transport. It might be a long wait, but you’ll remain there until it comes. I don’t want you getting into any more trouble until you are off this ship.”
The exec had regained some control. He nodded his agreement with what the Flight Operations commander had just said, glared at the two of them again, and stormed out.
As Remi took one of the offered datapads, he noticed through the now-open door that there were two security goons standing outside the ready room. His shoulders drooped when he realized how much trouble they were in. A moment later, he listed everyone who’d become a loyal customer over the previous year on the datapad.
He was glad he and Jock were being sent away. There were about to be a lot of angry ex-customers roaming around Indomitable who would be looking for someone to blame for the trouble they were in. It was a violation of the regs to buy their booze, so there would be a lot of people looking for payback.
As he typed in the names, a thought popped into Remi’s mind. This posting had been the last chance for the pair. He wondered if they were going to be drummed out of the Fleet right away, or would they be put in the brig for a few years and then kicked out.
One thing was for sure. No one would want them in their squadron after this.
CHAPTER TWO
Fleet Sector Command, Personnel Office
Lieutenant Commander Beaumont Ward leaned back in the chair, holding his glass of bourbon. He remembered the last time he’d been in Vice Admiral Jack Sommers’ office. On that occasion, he’d been chewed out and given a nearly impossible mission to pay a debt of honor.
Now he sat in a comfortable chair across from his friend Jack under much friendlier circumstances.
Jack held up his glass. “To Sergeant Hale and his family.”
Beau raised his glass in Jack’s direction, then sipped the excellent example of Earth spirits. His eyebrows rose at the quality. “Jack, is this the real deal?”
“I wish, but it is a good approximation based. It is certainly smooth. They say it's aged for twenty-five years in real wooden barrels.”
