Strength of the Soul Pt. 02

"That's not important right now, Major," Harold said. "What is important is making sure you complete your mission and return home in one piece."

"What do you know of my mission?" Mike asked, perplexed.

"Enough to know that the lives of millions of people are in the balance," Harold said. "My focus right now is on your commanding officer, Jim Tyson. He's quite a piece of work."

"'Work' isn't the first word that comes to mind," Mike growled.

"You know he's on the short list for Brigadier General, right?" Harold asked.

"Yeah, so I've heard."

"Well, it seems his... extramarital activities... have caught the attention of some powerful people. And they're not too happy."

"They're not the only ones," Mike hissed.

"No, I'm sure that's true."

"Is he being blackmailed or something?" Mike asked.

"That is one concern," Harold said. "You know the Reds love to target guys like him with honey pots."

"Are you saying Rhonda is working for the Reds?" Mike asked, incredulous.

"No, we don't think that at all. But she could be seen as an accomplice after the fact."

"Accomplice? To what?"

"Sabotage, Major. And possibly espionage." That got Mike's attention.

"What do you mean, sabotage?" Mike asked.

"Of the X-67C, Major," Harold said. "Not bad enough to keep you from completing your mission, but enough to keep you from returning home safely."

"How do you know this?" Mike asked.

"We've had your house bugged and wired for a few days now, Major. We've also tapped your house phone. I'm sorry for the subterfuge, but it had to be done. We heard him planning it."

"You're saying the man I've known all these years is trying to have me killed? Why?"

"Why do people do half the stupid stuff they do, Major? In Tyson's case, he wants his cake and he wants to eat it, too. He knows you won't stand for what he and Rhonda have been doing, so he intends to see to it that you can't stop him."

"You're talking murder, Harold," Mike said. Harold nodded in agreement. "And Rhonda is okay with this?"

"From what we heard, I don't think so. But she hasn't said anything to anyone about it, so at the very least, she's an accomplice after the fact."

"What will happen to her?" Harold shrugged his shoulders.

"That's not up to me. She'll probably get some time in prison, though."

Mike reflected that particular action would mean he could get custody of Lisa. But what would he do as a single father in the Air Force with his ex-wife behind bars?

"Have you arrested Tyson yet?"

"Not yet. We want to give him enough rope to hang himself, and maybe see if he's working with someone. Don't worry, we'll get him."

"What about the X-67?" Mike asked.

"Tyson has already done his work. We've spoken to the maintenance crew and they're going over the ship with a fine-toothed comb. They know to be low-key about it. I'll check in with the crew chief tomorrow morning."

"Maybe I should call Rhonda and encourage her to do the right thing," Mike said.

"She's not at home tonight," Harold said slowly, looking Mike in the eye. "Tyson picked her up earlier and is spending the night with her in a motel off-base."

"What about Lisa?" Mike asked, concerned.

"Rhonda asked Rita if Lisa could stay the night with us," Harold said. "We told Rhonda she could stay if she wants. So your daughter is with us tonight." Harold saw the pained look on Mike's face. "You're not sure if Lisa is really your daughter, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Mike said. "I wish there was a way I could confirm that one way or the other."

"Actually, there is," Harold said.

"What?" Mike asked, shocked. "How?"

"Genetic testing and comparison. Technically, it's still considered experimental, but we've had very good results with it. Genetics doesn't lie. All we need are two samples, and we'll know for sure. Interested?"

"Of course," Mike said. "What do I have to do?" Harold pulled a small vial from his jacket pocket and extracted a long cotton swab.

"Just let me take a swab from inside your cheek. We'll do the same with Lisa, then send the samples for analysis. We should know something within a few days at most," Harold said.

"Let's do it," Mike said. He let Harold take a sample from inside his cheek. Then he returned the swab and wrote on the outside of the vial.

"I'll get a sample from Lisa tonight and

we'll send them off."

"And this is foolproof?" Mike asked.

"Absolutely," Harold said.

"Thanks... Harold. Or whoever you really are," Mike said. Harold laughed.

"Harold is fine for now, neighbor. Well, I'd better get going or Rita will have my ass. Feel free to call the house and talk to your daughter if you want."

"I will, Harold. And thanks again," Mike said as Harold left. After closing the door behind his neighbor, Mike picked up the phone and dialed the Keyes residence. Rita answered after the second ring.

"Good evening, Rita. This is Mike Barnes. Can I speak with my daughter, please?"

"Hello, Mike. I take it you've spoken with Harold," Rita said.

"I have, and I'd like to speak with my daughter."

"Of course, Mike. Here she is." Mike heard Rita pass the phone to his little girl. He smiled as he listened to her tiny voice.

"Daddy, are you alright?" Lisa asked.

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine. How are you?"

"I miss you, Daddy. Mommy left with Uncle Jim and said she would be gone for the night." Lisa had always called Tyson "Uncle Jim." There was a time when that would have made him smile, and now, it made him sick to his stomach.

"That's what I heard, too. Are you having a good time with the Keyes?"

"Yes, Rita and I played hearts and I won," Lisa said.

"Sounds like you're having a good time, then," Mike said.

"Yeah. Rita's fun. Daddy, why is Mommy so sad?"

"I... don't know, sweetheart. Did she say something?"

"She was crying today and said she didn't know what she was going to do," Lisa said. Mike had a good idea but didn't want to upset his little girl.

"Well, maybe after I get home I can talk to her," Mike said.

"I hope so, Daddy. I don't like it when Mommy cries."

"I don't either," Mike said. They talked for a few more minutes, then ended the call, with Mike thanking Rita for watching over his little girl.

"It's my pleasure, Mike. And don't worry about you-know-who. We've got eyes and ears on them even as we speak," Rita said. Who ARE my neighbors? Mike wondered.

"Thank you, Rita. I appreciate that," Mike said, ending the call.

...

"Are you alright, Rhonda?" Jim asked as the two lovers lay in the motel bed. "You don't seem to be yourself tonight."

"I think that maybe we need to stop while we can," Rhonda said quietly.

"Are you getting cold feet on me?" Jim asked. "We only have to get through the next day and a half."

"So you actually did it? You sabotaged Mike's plane?"

"Yes, I did that before I picked you up."

"Well, what will happen?" Rhonda asked, dreading the answer but felt compelled to face her guilt.

"Let's just say Mike will go out in a blaze of glory. Don't worry. He won't suffer... much. He might get a bit warm, though."

"What do you mean?" she asked apprehensively.

"I sabotaged his retro-units - the rockets he'll need for re-entry. He'll complete the mission but won't make it back to earth." Jim stated matter-of-factly.

"WHAT?" Rhonda cried, suddenly terrified by the reality of - murdering - her husband. This startled Jim, who hushed her hurriedly. Cries of passion from no-tell motel rooms were nothing, but hysterics might bring embarrassing attention.

"What can I say? Mike is the kind of guy who would go on a one-way mission if it meant saving the world. Damn hero. Hell, they'll name schools and parks after him!" Shaken to her core, Rhonda looked at Jim in horror. Taken aback by her reaction, he tried to mollify her.

"Isn't this what you wanted? Mike, out of your life without the mess of a divorce?"

She gasped, "I told you I didn't want him dead," she hissed.

"Well, you can't have everything," Jim told her cavalierly. "Just be tough for another day or so. Then it'll be over."

"How can you be so... calm... about killing a man you served with for years? A man who called you his friend?" Jim smirked at that.

"Part of the training. As a woman, you wouldn't understand."

"How many times did he save your life in Korea?" Rhonda asked.

"A few," Jim said. "And I saved his ass a time or two as well. So, we are even. That's how it goes in combat. You do what you have to do to accomplish the mission."

"Even if that means killing the man whose wife you're screwing? A man who thought of you as his brother and best friend?"

"Don't get maudlin on me, Rhonda. It doesn't become you. When this is over, you'll have everything you wanted. You'll be free of Mike; you'll have some money, and you and Lisa will be free to go where ever you want."

"And you?"

"Yes, you'll have me as well. I'll take good care of you and Lisa. Don't worry."

She stared away for several long seconds, her face a mask of conflict. Then, composing herself, she moved reluctantly moved closer to Jim. "I hope you're right," Rhonda said gravely. Tears formed in her eyes as she thought about her husband, who had done nothing to deserve what was about to happen. "I'm sorry, Mike," she thought to herself.

Meanwhile, two men sitting in the back of a van parked across from the motel room made notes as they listened to the conversation, which had been picked up by an extremely sensitive parabolic microphone attached to the room's window and recorded on a large reel-to-reel tape recorder.

...

"Well, Sergeant, what did you find?" the colonel asked early the following day as he approached the X-67, now attached to the wing of a specially modified B-52 bomber.

"This, sir," the Air Force staff sergeant said, holding a closed fist. The colonel reached out and examined the components the sergeant handed him.

"What is this?" the colonel asked.

"Control modules for the retro-units, sir," the sergeant replied. Seeing the confusion on the colonel's face, the sergeant shook his head, cursing to himself, "Damn Army officers." He took a deep breath and continued. "These control the rockets that allow the 67 to slow down enough to re-enter the Earth's atmosphere, sir. Take a look at the pins on the bottom. You'll see some of them have been cut, sir."

"Cut?" the colonel asked.

"Yes, sir. Deliberately. I've replaced the units and performed a complete check of all systems. Everything is well within normal parameters now, sir," the sergeant said.

"Did you report this to anyone?"

"No, sir. I did just as you ordered last night, colonel."

"Who was the last person to touch this craft before you?"

"That would be Col. Tyson, sir. And yes, he would have the expertise to do something like this." The colonel nodded as he took in what the sergeant told him.

"Are you sure this didn't come to us with these plugs cut?" the colonel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Absolutely, sure, sir," the sergeant responded. "The ship checked out fine yesterday after pre-fueling, and when we ran a complete recheck today, there was a slight voltage drop on the retrorocket A and B loops. That is consistent with the altered pins not making their intended connections, sir. We pulled the plugs, and there's the reason." The disgust on the sergeant's face removed all doubt from the colonel's mind.

"I see," the colonel said. Looking at the sergeant's badge and uniform name tape, he said, "Staff Sergeant Newton, are you the crew chief?"

"Yes, sir. And nobody's going near that ship without me attached to them until they taxi out."

"Thank you, Staff Sergeant Newton. I appreciate your thoroughness. Good job, son," the colonel said, making a note in his pad.

"Thank you, Colonel," Newton said.

"I'd like you to double security around this craft, Sergeant. I don't want anyone else coming close enough to do something like this again. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Newton said. "Should I report this to anyone, sir?"

"You just did, Staff Sergeant. I'll take care of it from here," the colonel said.

"Yes, sir," Newton replied. The colonel looked at the massive, ungainly combined aircraft and wondered what kind of a crazy man would actually go up in something like this.

"Just a couple of things, Sergeant, before I leave," the colonel said.

"What's that, sir?" Newton asked.

"First, say nothing about this to anyone. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Newton replied.

"And second... I was never here."

"I... understand, sir," Newton replied nervously, wondering who this Army colonel really was.

"Good. Carry on, Sergeant," the colonel said, turning away. Newton watched the man get in his official car and drive off. After he was confident the crew chief couldn't see him, the colonel stopped the car, opened a compartment, and pulled out a telephone handset. He dialed a number and waited for his partner to answer.

"We've got him dead to rights," the colonel said. "How is our overnight guest?"

"She's doing fine. I just fed her some breakfast and she's watching television right now."

"Any sign of Mrs. Barnes yet?"

"No, none."

"It's still a bit early yet. I'll be home soon."

"See ya, lover," said the woman on the other end of the call before they ended it.

...

Mike finished his breakfast and headed for the simulator room, where he knew Deke was waiting for him. When he arrived, he saw Jim, Deke, and General Allen deep in conversation. Deke saw Mike first and called him over.

"Good morning, Major. You look like you had a good night's rest. You up for the festivities today?"

"Yes, I am," Mike said.

"We were just going over some of the last-minute flight details," Jim said. "I know you're looking forward to pre-flighting the 67."

"Yes, sir, I am," Mike said.

"Good," Jim said. General Allen stepped forward.

"Remember, Major, you'll need to maintain radio silence until after the package is delivered. You understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes, General, I understand," Mike said. They wanted to take no chance that the H't'quiy could be alerted to his approach by intercepting radio transmissions where there shouldn't be any... until after the nuclear device had been detonated. Then, hopefully, there wouldn't be any H't'quiy to intercept them.

"Why don't you go get suited up and we'll meet you at the van," Deke said.

"Sounds like a plan," Mike said. He went to the locker room, where he changed into the bulky spacesuit. While there, he called Tom Hawkins' office to reschedule his appointment. Having worked with military men before, Tom understood and happily obliged Mike's request without question. He finished suiting up and met Deke, Jim, and General Allen at the transport van.

"You know, Mike, I really envy you getting to fly this mission," Jim said as they rode to the 67. Mike chuckled at that.

"Well, you're more than welcome to go if you want to, sir," Mike replied half-jokingly.

"I'd love to, Mike, but in all honesty, you're the best man for this job," Jim said.

"So I've heard," Mike said. They reached the combined 67/B-52, and the van came to a stop. They climbed out and walked around the '67, taking special note of the nose art - the words "Little Angel" in cursive with a depiction of a child's teddy bear.

"Named for somebody special?" General Allen asked.

"I told my daughter that aliens are scared of teddy bears, sir," Mike said with a smile. General Allen laughed at that.

"Little Angel is the Major's nickname for his daughter, Lisa," Jim replied. The general nodded his head in understanding.

"You must really love your little girl, Major," the general said.

"I love my daughter more than anything, sir," Mike said, looking right at Jim.

"You'll be home with her soon, Major," General Allen said with a smile. "Why don't you perform your pre-flight and get ready?"

Mike took the clipboard from Sgt. Newton and studied the paperwork for the X67. "This is a good airplane, Sergeant?"

"It's as ready as it will ever be, sir," Sgt. Newton replied, his voice tight with emotion.

Mike signed the form accepting the aircraft, took his copy, and placed it on his own clipboard under the X67 checklists. Each was noted with the word "Experimental," which made him feel comfortable. It was like flight testing, where he faced death several times.

"I'm ready," he declared and put everything but flying out of his mind.

He completed the external inspection, climbed the scaffold, and stepped into the cockpit of the X-67. Deke followed close behind.

"Just remember to fly the mission profile, and you'll nail this to the wall, Mike," Deke said as Sgt. Newton checked Mike's straps and connected his radio leads.

"I will, Deke. Thank you... for everything." After a firm handshake, Deke stepped off the scaffold, and Mike saw the look on Newton's face. "Is everything all right, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. Everything is perfect. She'll take good care of you."

"Roger that," Mike said. Newton made one last check of the cockpit, then stepped back and snapped the sharpest salute Mike had ever seen the man give. Mike returned the sergeant's salute.

"Give 'em hell, sir!" Newton called out.

"I will, Sergeant. Count on it!" Mike called back. Newton stepped off the scaffold and rolled it clear of the B52's engine exhaust zone. Mike looked down and saw the others salute. He returned the salute and closed the canopy. A few minutes later, he heard and felt the B-52's eight engines roar to life. Showtime, he thought as he made his final instrument checks.

The large combined aircraft taxied into place and finally headed down the runway. Even stripped of excess weight and using water injection and full military power, the overloaded B52 lifted off just as it passed the sign showing a thousand feet of runway remaining. The flight deck crew and flight engineer, all SAC "standard crew" veterans, nursed the ungainly beast and its X67 parasite toward the release point.

When the B-52 reached 45,000 feet, the aircraft commander coordinated the release with Mike over the intercom. It culminated in a short countdown. At zero, just before Mike felt the release mechanism open, dropping the X-67, the faceless command pilot said simply, "Godspeed, Major Barnes." He felt the drop, counted three, and flipped the rocket motor ignition switches. Instantly Mike felt the G-forces slam him into the specially-formed seat as the rocket motors fired with controlled violence.

He knew the big bomber was banking away to his left, so pulling back on the control stick, Mike saw the ground below him slip further away as the ship's rocket engines propelled him higher and faster. Both the altimeter and Mach-indicator began spinning. He carefully adhered to the climb-out profile, and soon, the familiar blue sky was gone, replaced with the blackness of space. Looking at his altimeter, Mike realized he had crossed the Kármán line, the boundary of space.

Following his flight plan, Mike made the first course correction that would put him in a position to launch the nuclear missile. It wouldn't be long now, he thought. With his left hand, he broke the safety wire on the red switch, which armed the weapon and delivery system. After a few seconds, the status light changed from red to green: 'Ready.' The firing control switch, also safety-wired, was still in 'Safe' mode.

It was as if Mike was back in Korea. He was, again, The Hunter, but in this case, the lone hunter.

...

Rita and Lisa were in the front room when they heard a knock at the door. Rita opened the door to see a somewhat distraught Rhonda Barnes standing there.

"Good morning, Mrs. Barnes," Rita said pleasantly. "Please, come in." Rhonda came inside and was met by her daughter, who smothered her with hugs and kisses. "Would you care for a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot," Rita announced.