9 Trouble in the Dark

The Flight of the Armada

Book 9: Trouble in the Dark

Jay Michael Jones

Smashwords edition

copyright 2013 by Jay Michael Jones

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Table of Contents

Chapter 88: Mind Your Step

Chapter 89: Auld Lang Sine

Chapter 90: The Wildcat

Chapter 91: Trouble in the Dark

Chapter 92: Son of Fist

Chapter 93: Freak Show

Chapter 94: Little Mirrors

Chapter 95: I Can

Chapter 96: Everyman

Chapter 97: Hello My Love

Chapter 98: Familiar Voice

Chapter 99: Yes, Your Vicarage

A Brief Summary of the tale so far:

In the terrible aftermath of the Great Attack on the Thuringi Armada by their enemy the Shargassi, Gareth Duncan and part of the crew from the Solenil were taken captive by the once-friendly, now desperate Gharadee. Used as slaves, they suffered until the Thelan acted on a plea from Darien Phillipi and freed them. Under protection of the Thelan, Gareth designed a ship and with his crew, built the Reprobate in the garage of a wealthy Thelan benefactor. They boldly left Thelan with hope to rejoin the Armada. The Armada continues its way to Earth under the leadership of acting Warrior General Hartin Medina, who warily keeps his eye on Asa Mennar and other malcontents, outspoken critics of the royal Phillipis.

Darien meanwhile continued to fly the Solenil alone in order to convince the Known Worlds that the Armada was completely destroyed. Using his innate talent for creative chemistry, Darien crafted potions to sell along the wormhole traces to enhance his reputation as a distraught survivor of total destruction. Not only did this earn coin to aid Gareth’s crew, but it slowly made addicts of the Shargassi and others for whom the potions were specially and secretly created.

On Earth, King Stuart led the defense of their Earthian outpost from attacks by the mysterious ‘other’ aliens the Ossili. He also unintentionally fathered children with Earthian friend Laureen Nolan and subsequently married her. Carrol continued to raise her and Gareth’s child while making valuable allies of former friends from Sheldon School. Glendon fell in love with a lost Chassiren and quite against the Garin code, married her. Prince Erich and Glendon flew out to the Armada where Erich proved he was a natural leader with the guidance of Hartin and Glendon.

The spirit of Warrior General Maranta Shanaugh merged with the soul of an Earthian baby, the son of one of Stuart and Carrol’s former Sheldon School classmates. The legendary warrior impatiently dwells in the body of the growing child Marty Sheridan, whose own talents and abilities promise to take him far, but not fast enough to suit Maranta.

Chapter 88: Mind Your Step

Dr. Greg Riley, Stuart Phillipi’s friendly contact at Columbia University, called the island of Thuringa unexpectedly one evening with troubling news.

I’d be careful traveling if I were you fellows, he told Stuart. I had to come here to Michael Sheldon’s so I could make a secure call to you.

Why? What is wrong?

"Apparently some of the attendees of the symposium went home and worked on one of your calculations, thought outside the box and lo and behold, they realized what you presented was entirely possible, given enough energy to power it, energy they didn’t believe possible. Once they breached the ‘we haven’t got that kind of power’ notion, what you presented stared them right in the face with plausibility. They got so excited they wrote a paper which extolled your innovative theories, and eventually that reached our not-so-friends in the government. I just got a visit from some beefy guys from the Air Force and some cold fish from an intelligence agency. Stuart, the military is almost certain you Thuringi are aliens but they didn’t ask for contact, just information about your military capability. I was interviewed – well interrogated is more like it – for hours about you and your space flight theories."

That sounds ominous.

Oh, that’s not all. While I was busy trying to explain how your theories were plausible, others searched my office and found the Ossili engine I had tucked away there.

Word!

That’s when they sat me down and grilled me. I kept telling them you were one of Michael’s gifted students and had some interesting theories and came highly recommended. They might have taken that pretty much in stride since Michael’s school has a reputation for academic excellence, but the intelligence guy seemed particularly agitated by it. It seems he remembers reading about you from back in the early 60’s.

What did they say about the engine?

They couldn’t prove how long I’d had it; I mean there’s nothing on it with a date or anything. I told them I found it in an old junk yard and had never seen anything like it, so I bought it to look it over and hadn’t had the chance yet. Of course they wanted to know which junk yard, so I named a city close to where I found the engine. Then they wanted to know about you.

What did you tell them?

Only that you have brilliant ideas. Michael once told me to direct any questions about you to him, so I said he referred you to me based on your schoolwork. Then they went after Michael.

Michael smiled and spoke on a second phoneline. I told them Thuringa was a kingdom and you were its young ruler, and that you would be glad to welcome the State Department in an open dialogue. I thought they would agree to it but it looks like they would rather have a superior bargaining position, because they declined.

You must take extreme caution with them, Michael.

I don’t think I need to worry. Everything I told them checks out.

Stuart glanced at a monitor and said, I am glad you told me this; we apparently have an incoming ship from your Air Force.

Damn! That was fast.

Sandan will deal with it. I have every confidence.

Sandan wanted to laugh when he first caught sight of the aircraft on his screen. Why, it’s remarkably like ours, he told Stuart over the com. A wedge shape, relatively flat - why, I’ve heard whispers of this model! I believe this is their idea of stealth.

Warn them off, Sandan. Snap your finger under their noses if you must.

As you command, Sandan replied. Over a public frequency he announced, Attention incoming ship! You are about to enter Royal Thuringi airspace. This is extremely inadvisable. Change course immediately. He paused. You there! You in the black ship! You are not welcome over Thuringa. Turn around and begone. He said over the com to Stuart, Uff! These fellows are stubborn. I am using my best American.

Engage them, colonel. Nudge them to let them know Thuringa will not be crossed.

Sandan flew the Naughty Nibs directly at the F-117 Nighthawk. The Nighthawk abruptly changed course and flew away. Well, that was disappointing. I thought perhaps it would – ah! On the horizon closing in fast were two F-18’s eager to test the foreign ship, despite the traffic on the radio from the American command.

"I said do not approach the island, Sharky! Observation only!"

Target in sight, came the reply.

Sandan did not fight valiantly during the last days of Old Thuringa only to be taken out by a pair of Earthian ships now. The Naughty Boy darted abruptly at a speed the F-18’s were unable to match. It flipped, turned and came up behind them while they were still getting a bearing on where they thought he went.

They don’t look like MIGs. They don’t look like anything I ever saw, one of the F-18 pilots said.

Yes they do. Keep an eye on this one; he might be hostile.

Sandan keyed up his com to address them again.

You have entered the airspace of the Royal Thuringi Air Command. You are not welcome. Get out or lose both your ships. The ships split up in order to maneuver back around to face him. Oh, you fellows wish to play, do you?

They’re English, or speak English at least! one of the ships radioed.

"This is the Naughty Boy of the Royal Thuringi Air Command. You are violating His Majesty’s airspace. Leave at once!"

I’ve never heard of the Royal Thuringi Air Command.

Your ignorance is no excuse for current disregard.

Stand down, Royal … uh…

Royal Thuringi Air Command, another American finished for the first.

"I remind you, you are violating my airspace."

The Naughty Boy’s sensors indicated the ships were locking on to his coordinates, so Sandan fired at once before they could. The strong pulse shot out and sliced through one of his adversaries’ wings. He aimed at the other ship, fired again and cut through the underwing strut holding one of the second ship’s missiles. Both ship crews called out their statuses in alarm, but Sandan ignored them in order to peel away and fire on the falling missile. It exploded in mid-air, debris falling harmlessly into the sea. He watched as the first ship tumbled through the air, unable to remain aloft.

Bastard got me! the pilot said.

Bail out, you fellows, Sandan radioed. You will come to no harm.

"Cover me, cover me, Sharky!"

"I’ve got you, Wildman." The second ship fired on the Naughty Boy, which was protected by shields of Pleonian steel.

Sandan told him, I said you and the other ship will come to no harm, but if you insist I shall destroy your aircraft too and you along with it. I would prefer you live to run back home.

I didn’t even make a dent on him! Who the hell are these guys?

Sandan heaved a sigh into his com. I am everlastingly tired of repeating myself! Listen, you: the island of Thuringa is the property of His Majesty Stuart Phillipi, and you will not disturb us again.

The parachutes from the downed Wildman crew popped open and the men drifted down into the ocean. "Wildman and Bear chutes are open," Sharky reported.

"Now here is another thing, Sharky, Sandan told the second ship. If you will only move out of the way, our Sea Command will fetch your errant lads before a hungry creature does. They will be returned to you in good health. Now shoo. You are beginning to annoy."

God damn, Sharky’s radio intercept officer said to his pilot. They’re gonna shit when we report back to Miramar.

A third American voice radioed in. "Sharky, this is Kingpin. What is the mission status?"

"Wildman and Bear are down and a craft is heading for them at a rapid clip."

The Royal Thuringa Sea Command will collect your people and deliver them to you, Stuart’s strong voice cut in on their frequency. Now begone.

Sandan uttered an exasperated growl. "Errrgh! Good Lad, I see three more craft on the horizon."

Tsk tsk tsk; and I did not lay out the good tea set. The Good Lad rose from the island and joined the Naughty Boy.

"Kingpin, target is… target is hovering. A second one is joining him."

"Hovering? Say again, Sharky. I thought you were fired upon by supersonic aircraft."

I was; they were; it is, Sharky’s pilot said flustered.

You American ships, turn around at once, Stuart commanded. The Royal Thuringa Armed Command does not wish to further engage you but we will in defense of our home.

"Sharky, return to base immediately! Thuringa, this is Commander Warren Levitt of the American battleship Midway. We will not further violate your airspace but do require the return of our people."

Of course; we do not want them. Stand by and let us get a report, Stuart replied.

The commander turned to his bridge crew. We’re the greatest military in the world, and this fellow’s no more concerned than if we’re playing a game of tiddly-winks.

"…as if we’re not the greatest military after all," his first officer mused.

Well, Warren Levitt replied, If our hot-shot pilots’ ignoring clear orders are any indication, maybe we aren’t.

The little pleasure boat Lenore made a rapid approach to the downed crewmen. Wildman and Bear seized the life preserver rings thrown down to them and were hauled aboard. They were surprised to find a tall shapely girl in a tight-fitting black catsuit winding up the ropes. In the wheelhouse, Brent greeted them over a loudspeaker.

"Welcome aboard the Lenore! Ensign Garin, show our guests a seat and we shall set sail at once."

The two pilots sat on the deck with their backs against a stack of ropes as directed. They watched astonished as Echo removed the cover from a lethal-looking mounted cannon on the foredeck of the craft. Please do not attempt to take over my position, Echo told them. Commander Ardenne is right behind you and he is an excellent shot. They turned around and saw Brent behind the windscreen of the boat, a Thuringi pistol in his hand. Brent smiled and jauntily saluted with the pistol.

Over the airwaves he announced, "Good Lad, this is the Lenore. We have acquired a pair of very odd fish! Perhaps you should send those seagulls away before they discredit a statue."

Triton added, "The Isador is standing by as well, Your Majesty."

Very well then. Take our guests to Thuringa.

The Lenore sprang forward so suddenly, the pilot guests were thrown against the rope pile and pinned there. Echo’s braid flew straight out behind her like a flag in a tempest as she clung to the cannon controls. She let out a yell of delight at the speed.

Stuart addressed the American fighters. Your downed crewmen will be checked over by our medicals and then released healthy and unharmed. We are in defense of our homeland. Unless you simply wish for us to destroy your million-dollar aircraft one by one, stay well away and do not fire upon us again. We do not seek battle but we will win should you bring battle to us.

Who is this?

"I am King Stuart Phillipi of the Twenty-Sixth Rule of Thuringa. Return to your base and we will bring your pilots to the Midway as long as it remains in international waters and we are no longer accosted."

The F-18s received orders to return to the Midway, where other F-18s were being scrambled. Once on the aircraft carrier, the pilots were debriefed by an increasingly incredulous team. So they have Harrier jets?

I can’t say for certain what they have, sir. They have Harrier capability and the maneuverability is phenomenal. They outrun and outgun our F-18s at a ridiculous pace, plus they look like stealth aircraft. I don’t know where they got them at all.

What about our downed crewmen?

"One of theirs picked both airmen up before we could send a rescue ship. They said they would bring the pilots to the Midway. They claimed they did not want to engage in battle, but…"

But what?

They were…well sir, they sounded pretty annoyed with us.

Annoyed with the goddamn United States Navy! the commander exclaimed. Who the hell are these guys?

A subordinate reported, They sound British but the Brits aren’t claiming them. In fact, they want to know where these Thuringi got Harrier capability because it sure wasn’t from them.

The Wildman pilots were brought to the jetty in front of the House of Ardenne. Carrol pointed a small wand at them and consulted a palm-sized monitor in her hand. Good afternoon, she greeted. My name is Dr. Carrol Shanaugh de Phillipi, and I am simply going to check your health.

The pilot stood at attention. Caldwell, Evan; Captain U.S. Air Force, serial number 157 –

Oh for heaven’s sake, I have no use for your number! Carrol said. Would you like some fruit or water, Captain Caldwell?

Er…beg your pardon?

She put away her instruments. You both appear to be in good health so we will take you to your ship as soon as you wish, but I thought you might like some refreshments before you go.

No – no ma’am, Bear replied.

Echo stepped off the Lenore, and it set sail again. The pilots glanced from one woman to the other, noting the lemon yellow eyes and statuesque height. A clatter of hoofbeats heralded the arrival of the island goats on the jetty. They set up a tremendous bleat as they gathered around the foursome.

Why did you enter our airspace? You have known we do not welcome trespassers for several years now, Echo said.

You claim a pretty big airspace for one little island, Captain Caldwell replied. One of your ships approached one of ours in an aggressive action.

Your aircraft might well do the same if the situation was reversed, she pointed out. If you were capable of the deed, that is.

How is it your little island has such fantastic aircraft? Captain Caldwell had to raise his voice to be heard above the goats’ din.

We enjoy technology, captain.

Yes, but how –?

Now now my good captain; we are no more likely to answer such questions than you are to answer ours, Carrol said with a glance skyward. The king is returning and no doubt he will wish to speak to you. Go on now, you goats! Nibbles, stop being so pushy.

Nibbles butted his head against her thigh and made a demanding bleat again, and then turned and trotted down the jetty toward land. Stuart walked over the ridge and down the goat path to the House of Ardenne front dock and from there came out to the airmen on the jetty. Nibbles trotted alongside him, bleating.

Good afternoon, Stuart greeted. Welcome to Thuringa; I am King Stuart. I see you have met my sister Carrol and our Naradi, Ensign Garin.

He was at least six and a half feet tall, Captain Caldwell estimated, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old and perhaps two hundred pounds of muscle and bright blonde hair. He wore the kind of tight black suit Ensign Garin wore with high black boots, elbow-length black gloves and a thick soft waist-length jacket, brown like some of the goats’ coats.

They are in good health, Stuart, Carrol said.

Excellent. Gentlemen, I will be brief for I know you are probably anxious to return to your ship. This is the island of Thuringa. We have no formal diplomatic ties with any country of the now, and only a handful of financial concerns in the United States and Australia. What led you to invade our airspace? We wish no quarrel with you.

The two airmen maintained a cautious silence.

Ah, the legendary stiff lip of the United States Air Command, Stuart sighed. There is no reason for you to cross into our airspace and I am warning you now, do not do it again without an invitation from me.

Sir, ah – my name is Hawkins, Virgil C, captain in the United States Navy, the pilot called Hawk said. Could I ask where you got your ships?

We built them, Captain Hawkins.

Yes, but where?

Here, sir.

Manufactured here?

Yes, Stuart’s reply was brief, as if he preferred a more interesting question than the ones now asked.

You did all that on this little island?

I am not in the habit of telling falsehoods, captain. We are a very handy people and have been known to bend a bit of metal now and again.

But do you also design jets?

Of course. We design them, fly them and handle them with precision. We have limited contact with most of the world, but that does not mean we are helpless or ignorant.

The captain took in the sheer cliff face and the glass and steel home carved into its face. It was a neat job with no jagged edges along the stone face of the cliff. The opening had been cut out and the steel structure put in place as precisely as if manufactured that way. Even from where he stood on the jetty, the airman could see the multiple bookshelves inside the glass front. He wondered what sort of information they contained.

Several hundred yards to the right of the glassed front home was a natural arch of rock. Underneath the arch, steps from the sand and water lead up to a wide entrance with ponderous metal doors. It was impossible to judge the makeup of the entire island from just this small part of it, so it was possible there was a manufacturing facility on the other side of the ridge. Perhaps the housing was all located underground. The exterior of the home before him was very impressive, perhaps the entrance to an entire network of caverns. He noticed a small child in one of the windows peering at him.

Thank you, Ladd.

Captain, we do not wish to keep you apart from your people any longer than you must be. We will take you to our vessel where you will transfer from it to your own. And please stress to your commanders that we will not tolerate intrusions. If you wish to contact us, suggest that your State Department open diplomatic channels for suitable dialogue.

We… We don’t have that sort of association with the State Department, sir.

In that case, make it very clear to your superior officers that our people and our associates are not to be approached, seized or abused for if we are, we will hand you severe punishment by our Air Command. You have seen a fraction of what we are capable. We wish for peace but we will surely fight for our freedom. I encourage you to seek diplomatic discourse with us.

The afternoon sun was waning on the horizon. Stuart led them to the end of the jetty, where a dark shape with an open hatch on top waited. Gentlemen, do get into our submarine and we will take you to your ship. Go on, now. I am certain they are growing anxious. Echo herded them in before she also boarded, and closed the hatch behind her.

The interior was dark, save for a bank of monitors in front of a boy with medium length blonde hair and dressed in a turtleneck sweater and cargo shorts. His hands directed the steering mechanism as the Isador jerked slightly and pulled away from the jetty. The airmen watched the monitors in fascination. The farther out to sea they journeyed, the less they were able to determine the speed of the ship unless they passed schools of fish or solitary sea creatures. They had an idea they were traveling incredibly fast.

Triton switched on a light so the guests could find their way around the cabin. The interior was small, and the attractive Ensign Garin next to Captain Caldwell ushered him to a seat. How long have you been in the Navy? he asked. Or is this some sort of Junior ROTC program?

I am unfamiliar with an arroteesee, she replied. I am not a member of the Sea Command, at least not at this point in my training.

Oh. I thought I heard them say you were an ensign.

I am. Our ranking is perhaps not the same as yours. I am in the Air Command.

You are? Why, I’ve got a kid sister who can’t be much older than you. You must have joined up in middle school.

She smiled. Indeed.

Captain Hawkins kept an eye on Triton’s actions. Where in the hell did they get this? he asked in a hushed voice when he realized none of the inscriptions were in English. They looked like chicken scratch and random doodles, nothing at all like the glyphs of other languages.

It was built by a brilliant engineer, Triton replied. Isn’t it marvelous? It handles so well, too. The screens displayed lightened waters around them, and they felt a gentle bump and the ship stopped. Now, if you will step aside for a moment… The young Aquatic rose and opened an overhead hatch. A small rope ladder fell into the Isador’s belly. Follow me, captains! Mind your step!

The Americans crawled into the hold of a surface ship, and from there up a ladder to the deck of the ship they’d been on before – the Lenore. The Midway was on approach from the northeast, towering over the Lenore even from that distance. Brent Ardenne waved at his two American guests from the wheelhouse.

Be good lads and step lively into that little skiff with Triton.

It was a simple bamboo canoe, what Brent considered a throwaway with no hardware to worry about leaving behind. Triton paddled the canoe toward the looming aircraft carrier. I shall not get too close. Word, that is a great deal of metal. He spied a small motorized craft speeding toward them. Gentlemen, this is where I part company with you. Good tidings!

The captains were stunned at his sudden departure over the side of the canoe into the water. They shouted for him, but he was gone.

They could not give many details about the island or the Thuringi’s ships, culture or weaponry since they spent so little time there. When they discovered how far from the island they were when the Midway picked them up, the men checked and rechecked their watches. They couldn’t possibly be so far from Thuringa! They only left there ten minutes ago! The Lenore was already far in the distance, its Thuringi engine well-disguised inside the small pleasure craft.

The king said they design and build all their aircraft and ships. I saw a small child in the window of the house in the cliff, sir, so I am confident their population must live in underground quarters. They looked healthy and well-fed and tanned, and they offered us food and water. They have a lot of little goats on the island, sort of like pets really.

Goats? Regular goats?

Yes sir. Just little brown and white goats that are kind of spoiled and petted, sir.

The commander later reported, "This small island kingdom is one no one has been able to approach. Minutes after our crew was returned to the Midway, we picked up Soviet MIGs enroute to the island. They were fired upon and chased away with the same firm, polite but obviously irritated statements as we received. These Thuringi protect themselves thoroughly not only with supersonic aircraft with hovering capabilities, but with submarines and ships capable of traveling tremendous distances without refueling. The Thuringi I spoke to was evidently their leader, a boy king named Stuart Phillipi. He suggested going through diplomatic channels. I don’t know what kind of setup they have on their island but I will tell you here and now, it beats anything we’ve got to turn out equipment like that."

Stuart temporarily suspended Air Command missions of mercy, concerned his people might be seized or even provoked into aggression. Stuart did not want to give anyone at the Pentagon an excuse to capture a Thuringi for questioning. He also temporarily suspended Merlin’s visits to Colorado.

Lawrence Douglass had a visit from the government, and he handled the matter with all the disdain they should have expected of a man who regularly published articles complaining about government cover-ups. The connection might have looked suspicious to the United States government save for the fact that Lawrence still publicly demanded proof of alien landings. If the Thuringi were from another world and held close ties with the Douglass newspaper chain, then Lawrence should not need to see the existence of extraterrestrial life. It would be right in front of him, which was apparently not the case as far as the United States government was concerned.

When Peter Nolan was contacted he told the agents he did not care what his son-in-law claimed. Peter was convinced Stuart was an idle layabout who sold jewelry for a living. The distinguished surgeon wanted nothing to do with the ‘boy king’ and thought his daughter married far, far beneath herself. Stuart is the so-called king of a piddley little island that isn’t even recognized by our country. If you think he’s some sort of engineering genius, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s just a rich kid who’s way in over his head when it comes to real political power. I hope he smothers on his insolence.

So you don’t like him very much, the agent said dryly.

Oh, he’s an okay guy if you met him on the street, but he’s not the kind you’d want to marry your daughter. Good-looking, wealthy, superior attitude; the kind to turn an innocent girl’s head for the sport of it.

Have you ever visited his island?

I don’t even like to admit he’s related to me! No, I’ve never been there. The only reason I would want to go is to get my daughter and bring her back home, but she won’t leave him. Guess she’s afraid she won’t get another offer, according to her grandmother.

The agent could see Peter Nolan would be no help, so they left without further ado. Maureen Nolan Price admitted she did not visit her sister since Maureen’s time was spent building her career in television. Despite being identical twins, the Nolan sisters had very little else in common. She did offer some information on Stuart, however: He’s a real sweetheart, just so fun and charming; we all loved him at Sheldon. Some of his people used to visit us at Sheldon School and everyone loved to have them visit. They were all friendly and full of fun, but Thuringi are no pushovers, trust me! The island is like a fortress and the security there is really clever. You’d never notice it while you’re there. He’s got guards and stuff around Laureen and the kids so creeps won’t try to kidnap them.

Are you familiar with the island?

Maureen dismissed the man with a wave of her hand. I visited only one time, for Laurie’s wedding; you really expect me to remember everything from that? I only saw one little piece of the place. All I know is the men there are all big muscular studs and the women are like Olympic-ready athletic. I was there to see my sister married, not to scope out the place for the military! I do know every single one of them wears sidearms. Gorgeous pistol-looking things.

If you were to return –

I won’t be returning any time soon, Maureen told him firmly. "That stunt you pulled invading their airspace made Stuart close all traffic to the island again. Damn it! They just started opening it up to visitors and now because the Air Force decided to