2: Beneath Orion, Worlds Apart 01

Book Two -- "Beneath Orion, Worlds Apart: The Diary of an Underdog" -- will continue with the main characters from Book One.

However I cannot emphasize enough how different Book Two will be from Book One. With exception of a flashback or two, be warned that the high school phase is over, so if that's why you started reading, you may want to end your reading experience with Book One. Please consider carefully if you are willing to continue reading about where Luke and Kaylee go from here.

This story is about our protagonists growing up, their journey in life, overcoming hardship and discovering how to live. Some of the most intense adrenaline-filled moments I have ever written are contained in the story. There will be violence, sadness, and tragedy (so be warned), but also humor, romance, and triumph. There will be some absolutely horrific moments, but I believe it will also contain some of the most romantic moments I have ever penned as well.

Thank you for reading my stories, and I truly hope you enjoyed Book One and will also enjoy Book Two just as much if not more. Please continue to thank Random Librarian for his excellent editing job. Book Three will wrap up the entire "Diary" Trilogy and will hopefully be out by Fall of this year.

BOOK TWO: The Diary of an Underdog - Beneath Orion, Worlds Apart

Life was strange outside of California; at least that's what Luke thought. Maybe he was too sheltered, but he missed the little things his home State had to offer like driving his Challenger down the coastline along Highway 101, taking in the scenic view of beautiful green trees and the endless blue ocean that seemed to go on forever.

His entire life -- really, the world as he knew it -- had changed the moment he signed his name on the paperwork at the Air Force recruiter's office. He remembered his dad patting him on the back the moment he put the black pen down on the desk before the ink had a chance to dry, telling him, "Son, I never thought you'd follow in my steps. I'm not sure I like the idea of you joining the Air Force, but I know you'll do great. I have complete faith in you."

Ryan wouldn't realize those simple words would stick with Luke all the way through training. Now that Luke was getting ready to head out into the wild blue yonder, every lesson his dad had ever taught him that he had initially ignored, or best case took for granted, was now beginning to make sense.

Somehow Luke managed to survive the Basic Training course. Talk about a wakeup call. The hardest part of basic, better known as the "we'll tear you down to nothing and build you back up the Air Force way" course, wasn't the strict regimen of making the beds with hospital corners or following a schedule so strict he barely had time to shave or shower. He really didn't mind that. It was the senseless yelling from the MTI's, or Military Training Instructors, that took some getting used to.

Every night as he lay in his bed, typically the first time all day he had a chance to think, he questioned if joining was the right thing. Did he really know what he was getting into? He had always been confident in himself and his abilities in high school, but he couldn't help the seeds of doubt taking root in his mind.

Once basic was finally over -- halleluiah -- his next goal was finishing Tech School. Air Force blue was beginning to soak into his veins, but then again most of the new Airmen felt the same way. They all joined for different reasons -- some wanted the military to pay for school, some wanted to travel the world -- but the one common reason on everyone's list was serving their country.

Still, despite accepting his new life, he couldn't get past the drastic differences between the training base in Texas and where he grew up in Northern California. The weather was different, the species of trees were completely different, and the way Texans spoke... well, it was like another language. The words were the same, but trying to comprehend what was spoken through those thick southern accents took some getting used to. On more than one occasion, Luke found himself politely asking the locals to repeat themselves.

To say he felt like a fish out of water was an understatement. It was especially strange without his parents, his sister Faith, or his buddy Aaron, but he knew he'd get used to it. He'd eventually make new friends and teammates; it would just take time to get there.

But then there was Kaylee.

It was beyond strange, not having Kaylee around. In fact it was downright painful. Luke wasn't so sure he would get used to her absence.

More importantly, he didn't want to.

I -- The Reaper Cometh

One Year, Nine Months Later

"BREAK RIGHT! BREAK RIGHT! DROP FLARES," Airman Luke Patton yelled as several bullets impacted the helicopter just feet away from his station behind the pilot and by the side door. Swinging his 7.62 millimeter minigun to the origin of attack he instinctively pulled the trigger, spraying hundreds of rounds in a matter of seconds.

As the bullets rained down, most of the insurgents bolted from their hiding holes and scattered like bugs, but a few stood their ground and continued to fire at the American helicopter. Patton nailed at least two of them before the HH-60 Pave Hawk, callsign Reaper 31, dispensed chaff and snapped hard right. He was too busy to see if the trailing helicopter, Reaper 32, was taking fire or not.

Major Johnny Westwood slammed the stick aggressively to the right, banking hard and away from enemy fire. "Hold on," he told the crew over the radio.

Frickin' ambush, the young aerial gunner thought to himself. Despite the gravitational forces on his body, Luke Patton held on to his gun tightly during the steep turn, scanning for more targets.

"Fucking insurgents. Pilot, looks like small arms fire, a few machine guns, not sure if they have MANPADS or not. Those surface-to-airs are the last thing we need," Sergeant Chuck Cash, the Flight Engineer and Right Gunner opposite Patton's position, relayed to the Major with a strong Tennessee accent, also returning fire. "Patton got two kills at least, but we're still taking fire from the south."

"Copy, breaking north," Westwood grunted, taking evasive action by swinging the Air Force helicopter back and forth to avoid enemy fire while pushing up the power as far as it would go. "Keep them off our ass, Patton. Wayne, relay our position over secure radio. We have to reposition and get more attack power. Intel obviously didn't know about this, so we don't know what's down there."

"Roger, I still have a few in sight. Left side continuing fire, but you're evasive flying isn't helping my aim," Patton grunted as the G-forces intensified, his body straining under physical pressure.

"Right side, no targets, scanning," Cash reported.

First Lieutenant Clint Wayne, the copilot, also replied to the pilot, "Copy, I'm already on the radio trying to get a hold of Watcher. So far our Airborne Command Center isn't responding, but I'll keep trying."

Out of the corner of his eye, Patton saw the trailing Pave Hawk being fired upon. Most of the flashes on the ground indicated small arms and machine gun fire. It looked like most if not all rounds had missed, but he couldn't be certain. Before he could blink, two smoke trails appeared from the ground to the sky, narrowly missing the flying iron machine, their trajectory carrying them well past the trailing helo. Patton watched as Reaper 32 fired off flares just in time; a third smoke trail bit off on them, changing its flight path and causing a massive explosion. "Shit! They have MANPADS, boss," Patton told Westwood.

"How is Reaper 32 looking," Westwood asked his crew based on Patton's new information, concerned about their formation partners.

"Two missiles fired and missed, a third one bit off on the flares," Patton grunted, wiping his visor with his uniform sleeve. "Fire stopped. I don't see any insurgents. Still scanning, but we're probably out of their range unless they have another ambush up ahead. They popped up quickly from their hiding place; I never even saw them until they fired."

"Alright," Westwood said, "Keep scanning, just in case. Everyone ok so far? Check yourselves, check your equipment."

"Check your pants, you mean," Wayne responded sarcastically.

"We're good over here," Cash replied. "Thanks to your flying, I think I'm sober now."

Patton chimed in, taking the opportunity to reload ammunition, "I'm ok, but we took a lot of rounds on this side. It's amazing I didn't get hit. I've got a few bullet holes less than a foot from my station."

"I'm good too," Wayne also responded, scanning the engines. "Wait... no. Actually our hydraulics are down a little, I think we might be slowly losing fluid."

"Thought as much. It feels like we lost the hydraulics, too," Westwood said with a clear irritation to his voice. "The controls are sluggish. We're gonna have to turn around and head back to base."

Keying the microphone, Westwood tried to establish communications with the trailing helicopter. "Two, this is lead. What's your status?"

The pilot of the second helicopter responded, "Two's good. Those fuckers almost nailed us. Looks like you guys are leaking; we can see a small trail of fluid coming out underneath you. I'm guessing it's hydraulic fluid based on where it's pissing out."

"Copy, we're turning around. Two, you have the lead, we're splitting off and..."

BOOM!

Before Westwood could finish, an enormous explosion went off, shaking the Pave Hawk and initially causing a sharp roll. The impact was on the opposite side of the helicopter by Sergeant Cash's station; the force of the blast would have thrown Patton out of the helicopter if it were not for his safety harness. Violently thrown against the straps, Patton felt himself on the verge of slipping out; some of his straps had been severed in the explosion. All he could do was hold on for his life.

Patton immediately knew they had been hit by either a MANPAD or a rocket propelled grenade; the force was tremendous and the powerful impact was enough to knock the helicopter off of its flight path. The noise was deafening and his head was ringing. Alarms were screaming repetitively and horns blared deafeningly. The Pave Hawk was spinning out of control; Patton tried to grab something and hold on as tightly as he could. The centrifugal force was so strong he couldn't pull himself back into the fiery helicopter but his death grip was enough to keep him from being ejected, as long as he could find a way to hold on. Through the smoke he could see Sergeant Cash, still strapped in and slumped over like a rag doll. His torso was nothing but a big, empty hole. If he had time to form a rational thought and comprehend what had just happened, Patton would have thrown up.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK," Westwood shouted angrily, fighting the controls. He was struggling for control of the helicopter, resigned to gain control at all cost, but was losing the battle. "BRACE FOR IMPACT, WE'RE GOING DOWN!"

Patton held on for dear life. Everything seemed to move at a blinding speed as the spinning helicopter blurred his vision. He closed his eyes, taking what he thought to be his final breath. The only thing he could think of was what he considered the most precious thing in his life -- Kaylee. As the flaming metal fell from the sky, his only thoughts were how much he would miss her.

He could practically see her gorgeous blue eyes, recalling the loving way she looked at him, not to mention that wide beautiful smile she always flashed whenever she saw him, her golden mane of hair gently dancing in the soft wind's breeze.

The helicopter slammed into the ground.

---

Five Months Earlier

"Seriously, you're telling me the Air Force... I mean, the frickin' United States Air Force, can't even afford Tabasco sauce," Sergeant Cash asked his crew, holding up a bottle of Texas Pete, sneering at the annoying cowboy on the label.

"Dude, I don't know why you're bitching. Texas Pete is better than Tabasco anyway," Lieutenant Wayne, the Seattle native, countered.

"First of all, sir," Cash said sarcastically, embellishing his words, "No it's not. Second of all, you're missin' the point." The sergeant retorted with his southern drawl, "Everyone but you likes Tabasco. Yet every table in the entire dining facility has Texas Pete."

Airman Patton snickered, sitting down next to his crew and setting down his tray. Normally the quiet one in the group, he couldn't help but ask, "Guys, is there really a difference?"

The Major shook his head subtly enough for only the young Airman to see, as if to warn him against getting caught in the middle, before taking a bite of his burger. Patton smiled, accepting his mentor's words of wisdom.

"Of course there is! Tabasco is more authentic. The taste is much better; it's all about the peppers," Cash said, defending his stance.

"Whatever," Wayne said, giving in. "If I wanted to complain about something, I'd complain about the way you've been following that desert queen around like a puppy dog... what's-her-name."

"Staff Sergeant Wilkins. Carrie, I think," Patton said, trying not to grin. "She works in finance."

"Yeah. Carrie. That's right," Wayne recalled, looking at Patton. Turning back to Cash, Wayne continued, "That's really sad, bro, the way you sniff around her. We already suspended your man card for that Adam Lambert song you just had to sing over intercom our last flight, but groveling at this chick's heels is gonna get your man card completely revoked. You gotta sac up, man!"

Westwood and Patton almost choked, trying their hardest not to laugh, while Cash flipped Wayne the bird. "Eat me, 'sir'," he smirked, chewing his food with a wry smile and adding, "And it was Adam Levine."

Wayne laughed, "That bunker lovin' isn't gonna get you very far; all it's gonna get you is a bad case of sand and crabs. Take our FNG, for instance," he said, slapping Patton on the shoulder.

Patton's eyes opened wide. He didn't want to get involved, but couldn't help asking, "What... what's FNG?"

"Fucking New Guy," Westwood, Wayne, and Cash all exclaimed at once, followed by a round of laughter.

Patton sheepishly shook his head.

"So anyway, our FNG has a smoking hot hoochie back at home and I bet you my per diem -- all three dollars and fifty cents -- he's waiting for her and staying away from the desert queens. What was her name again, Luke?"

Patton cringed, just waiting to see where the lieutenant was going with this one. Hopefully the LT would put his focus back on Cash. "K-Kaylee," he said quietly.

"Right. Kaylee. So," he continued, taking a bite of potatoes while still trying to talk, "you've seen pictures of her in his locker at Life Support. Hottie, right?"

"Hey," Patton exclaimed, raising his arms; he didn't know until now that they had been rifling through his possessions, which obviously included a few pictures he had of Kaylee.

Ignoring him, Wayne continued, "You could probably have one of her friends, or a girl like her, if you didn't bring them a home a disease. I give it a week; before you know it, Carrie's gonna give you something that makes you feel like you're pissing out Tabasco. Then we'll see what you think about ol' Texas Pete."

Cash laughed, grabbing his tray. "Screw all y'all. I'm goin' to the gym." He added defiantly, "Then I might even stop by finance and say howdy to Sergeant Wilkins. I'll see ya guys tomorrow mornin' before we fly."

Talking about Kaylee reminded Luke that he was seriously overdue keeping in touch with her. Despite his inattentiveness, she continued writing him faithfully, at least every other day, since his time in the desert. Even if she were so busy that she only had time to type out a sentence or two, he'd still find an email in his inbox.

Luke, on the other hand... he felt distant. He could count on both hands the number of times he had written to her.

It wasn't that he didn't care for her; in fact, it was quite the opposite. There was no doubt in his mind that he was crazy about Kaylee, but there was always that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something might happen to him. What if he didn't make it home in one piece? That would absolutely destroy Kaylee.

Besides, it was easier to focus on his job when he didn't have Kaylee on his mind. Maybe it wasn't fair, but any aircrew member of any airframe would tell you the number one rule of flying a combat mission was to never ever talk to your wife or girlfriend moments before heading out on a flying mission. This simple rule ensured fewer distractions, better focus, and less worrying about their significant loved one -- especially when conversations ended in arguing.

Still, he regretted his lack of interaction with her. Kaylee was just so special that she deserved so much more than he could ever give her.

Maybe that was what bothered him the most.

---

Tapping his fingers next to the keyboard, trying to think of what to say, he stared helplessly at the empty email draft for Kaylee as the words refused to come to him.

Except for the sound of fingers pranging on the keyboards and whispered conversations of Airmen talking to their loved ones on the telephone, it was relatively quiet in the Morale Tent. Frustration set in as Luke, after only five minutes of staring at the computer, his focus shot, wasn't even sure how to even begin to address the email to Kaylee. All he was doing was wasting his allotted computer time, but the guilt from his last couple of rushed and generic emails weighed heavily on his conscience. Luke had to make this one count.

Dearest Kaylee...

No; too stuffy.

My darling Kaylee...

Nope; too prim and proper.

Kaylee-girl...

Luke laughed. No; way too high school.

What about just Kaylee?

No way; too informal and plain.

Luke sighed. All he wanted to do was show her how much he loved and cared for her, but opening up with words and emotions was never an easy task for him. He could feel his shoulders tensing up and his splitting headache was getting worse with the passing of each second.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying his hardest to type what felt natural; maybe then she would see how much he really did care. It wasn't easy for him to communicate his feelings. Whenever he tried to compliment a girl, it always came out all wrong -- sometimes it even sounded demeaning, even though he never meant it to.

On the contrary, Kaylee explained to him before he left that when he acted natural and didn't actually try to think about what he was saying, the most beautiful, poetic things would come out of his mouth. It was simply his nature, she would tell him. It was instinct.

Let's not think too hard, he thought to himself, relaxing his shoulders and closing his eyes.

My sweetest Kaylee, he typed without looking at the screen.

"There," he said quietly under his breath with tremendous relief, daring to open his eyes and read the three simple words, realizing he was able to say how he felt about her without overdoing it.

"That wasn't so hard," he said calmly, although he wasn't completely sure he was convinced.

I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to write you more often.

Luke grimaced at his admission. He really felt bad, but at least his fingers were beginning to flow.

I've been much busier over here than I expected to be. Before I left, the veterans (we have one guy on his fifth deployment) told me it was nothing but eating, sleeping, flying, and going to the gym, but lately we've been flying combat missions nonstop so there isn't really much time for anything else.