Wings of Steele- The Series Read online

  DU COVER ART

  REVIEWS

  “A wonderful story, a great adventure. Full of excitement and action. Good guys vs bad guys, and yes very much like COWBOYS IN SPACE! What a hoot! Go where no man - woman - dog has gone before!” K. Caid

  “Combining military and scifi into a fun adventure, Jeff Burger hit this one out of the park! I look forward to the next in the Wings of Steele series.” B.K. Foster

  “Best armchair adventure, ever! I haven't had so much fun reading a book in a very long time! Wings of Steele is an awesome, incredible story. I loved the characters... I loved it all! Thanks for writing this story - it should be a movie or a series...” Jolene E.

  “Into the wild blue yonder... and beyond! Steele is a regular guy that gets in a jam and is forced to take on the FBI, CIA, the KGB and even a drug cartel...and that's before he even gets to the Bermuda Triangle! Imagine Indiana Jones morphing into Hans Solo with a little Captain Kirk thrown in... enough action to have been TWO books.” John C.

  “Spend the money and be prepared to have the wife tell you to turn off the light and go to bed already. Ignore her, go to the other room, and it will be well worth it! I'm not saying this actually happened but...” Stahl

  “Suspense, drama, space ships, kick-booty humans - everything necessary for good space opera. Can hardly wait for the sequel!” Gary W.

  “A cool new hero struggling to follow his moral compass. Keep a round in the chamber and be ready to go, because you aren't gonna be prepared for what's coming around the bend. Some great twists and turns.” J. Grace

  “Excellent mixture of action, adventure, humor, romance, suspense and espionage, with a touch of thriller & mystery. Great character development, plausible action and human interest... a romping good read. Style and detail similarities to, B. V. Larson, Robert Heinlein, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Andre Norton and Lois McMaster Bujold”

  Mike M.

  WINGS of STEELE

  DESTINATION UNKNOWN

  A NOVEL BY

  JEFFREY J. BURGER

  Books in the series...

  Book 1 - WINGS of STEELE - Destination Unknown

  Book 2 - WINGS of STEELE - Flight of Freedom

  Book 3 - WINGS of STEELE - Revenge and Retribution

  Book 4 - WINGS of STEELE - Dark Cover

  Coming in 2019 - Book 5 - WINGS of STEELE - Resurrection

  www.wingsofsteele.com

  COPYRIGHT

  E-Book Edition 2.2

  Published in the United States by Templar Press. Templar Press and the mounted Templar Knight colophon are registered trademarks and may not be reproduced.

  Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown

  Copyright © 2012 Jeffrey J. Burger

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever, without the expressed written consent of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book and contents are a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to events, places, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Registered with the Library of Congress

  ISBN-13: 978-0615692883 (Templar Press)

  ISBN-10: 0615692885

  Cover artwork, copyright © 2012 Jeffrey J. Burger

  WINGS of STEELE logo, copyright © 2012 Jeffrey J. Burger

  www.wingsofsteele.com

  DEDICATION

  I want to offer my thanks to all those who helped, offered their support, sat to listen to my story and ideas - and in some form or fashion helped make this, my first novel, a reality. And thanks to my parents for convincing me as a youngster that anything I put my mind to, I could do... even more so when someone told me it couldn't be done.

  A big thank you to the folks at DAW Publishing - the only publisher that not only took the time to actually read the entire manuscript, but also took the time to review and positively critique it, encouraging me to move forward with it as well as a follow-up book.

  I am grateful to Fran Milsop... for her dear friendship and copious amounts of encouragement. The hours and effort she put into reading, and reviewing my work, her advice, technical and professional expertise, is deeply appreciated. Thank you Fran, for helping me to pursue my dream and move forward to completion - even though it took a little longer than we thought.

  Convention seems to dictate that I should select one person to dedicate this novel to, however this is proving difficult, because he did not have a great deal to do with the physical process of writing, editing, or completing this book. But his influence in my life affected not only the production of the book, but the very story itself... my German Shepherd, Fritz. And yes, you're right, he isn't a person... but then again, you couldn't convince him of that. His companionship, friendship, comic personality and devotion were key to keeping me grounded while I worked on this project. Thank you buddy.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DESTINATION UNKNOWN

  COVER

  REVIEWS

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - SUMMER

  Eleven year old Jack Steele laid back in the lawn chair on the grass in his yard staring up at the star-flecked night sky. Even the city lights did not diminish the brightly twinkling specks of light visible in the patch of deep, inky-blackness exposed between the neighboring houses and overhanging maple trees. The yard smelled of warm, freshly cut grass and sweet lilac from the neighbor's bushes. There was a soft, even breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees adding a quiet hush to the darkness. Crickets chirped incessantly. His mother would have a fit if she knew he was out there. It was well past midnight and he was in his pajamas... supposed to be fast asleep in bed. Who cared? He was on summer vacation; there was no school to worry about, no homework, no extra credit assignments. But the dreams, he could not forget the dreams. Unsettling... but strangely exciting.

  He reached down and felt for the huge Rottweiler sleeping on the grass beside him. Luke. Good old Luke... over a hundred pounds of pure muscle and willing to use it. They were the best of friends, inseparable. As black as the sky above, the dog was invisible to young Steele, blending in with the shifting shadows around him. Luke huffed softly, reassuringly, feeling the small hand of his young friend running through his smooth coat. Jack felt better for it; Luke's strength and courage were contagious.

  A police siren waile
d mournfully in the distance, heading farther away, fading. Someday he would be a policeman... just like his dad. Maybe that was the siren on his dad's patrol car, he was on duty tonight. Jack wasn't worried; his dad was a big guy. The biggest. And a good shot too, performing on the police department's pistol competition team.

  He listened intently until the siren was gone, then leaned back and stared up at the night sky again. He sighed, the stars winked at him. Someday he would be out there too... after he was a policeman. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. And not like Neil Armstrong the astronaut, walking on the moon... But out there. Really out there. Maybe as far as Andromeda... he learned about that one in astronomy this year. It really didn't seem that far, it was like he could almost reach out and touch those stars.

  Maybe it was the dreams, those weird dreams... and the Dream People. Well, at least that's what he called them. Cool, smooth, featureless gray-green skin, large ebony eyes... and their silent voices that talked in his head. He was afraid the first time, terribly afraid. But they never hurt him, or Luke. Besides, like his dad said, “A real man isn't afraid of the dark or the boogeyman. That the only thing to fear, is fear itself.” Well, maybe. Maybe not.

  Jack decided he pretty much had it figured out... he was sure, well, reasonably sure, that despite their dreamlike appearance, the Dream People weren't really in his dreams at all... but real. But how could you explain that to your parents? You couldn't. It wasn't going to happen. At least not with his parents. They'd either patronize him and admire his vivid imagination, or put him in a rubber room somewhere. He heard Tommy Brooker's mom went to a shrink and ended up in a crazy ward for a while. Tommy said she didn't like it. Jack figured he wouldn't like it either. Eleven was too young for a straight-jacket, whatever that was.

  The stars blinked and sparkled, Jack's eyelids grew heavy. The crickets grew quiet, the breeze shifted and Luke huffed, his nose pointing into the wind. Jack suddenly grew more aware, paying closer attention. Luke moved his bulk to a sitting position and whined inquisitively, pensively. Jack squinted and could see the vague silhouette of the dog's massive head and shoulders just a foot away in the inky darkness. The Rottweiler made strange little whining noises, more insistent than before. Jack felt it now too...

  Along with the tart, electric smell in the air, enough to make your mouth water, was the buzzing of his skin, like pins and needles all over his body. His eyes grew heavy again, heavier than before. Luke laid back down again, his head on Jack's thigh, quiet now, breathing easy.

  The eleven-year-old knew the feeling. They were coming... somehow he had known they would come tonight. The Dream People. They would speak silently to him in his head and take him out there, but just for a little while... he was always home before it got light.

  WINGS of STEELE - DESTINATION UNKNOWN

  CHAPTER ONE

  FT. MYERS, FLORIDA: CAN'T TOUCH THIS

  Beside the king-sized four-poster bed, soft jazz floated quietly from the small clock radio on the nightstand. The heavy, hand-carved antique oak bed was scalloped with ornate scrolls and leaves. On the wall above the stately headboard, hung a large black, medieval shield, emblazoned with a golden silhouette of a winged horse against a red rising sun. Angled to the right of the shield hung a gleaming two-handed English broadsword. It was obviously a man’s room, filled with dark wood and strong furniture but everything was in its place and the room was meticulously clean.

  The wafting Sunday morning jazz began to reach the lone sleeping occupant of the great bed. Jack Steele was becoming vaguely aware of the music invading his sleep and struggled to maintain that last final bit of dream as it dissolved and faded away into waking awareness. He could also feel the warm Florida coastal breeze drifting lazily through his open window and smell the fresh tang of salt in the air. For a moment, he hoped the music was coming from outside and not the clock.

  Jack propped himself up on his left elbow to look at the clock perched on his dresser next to the black lacquered rack holding a set of Japanese Katana and Wakizashi swords.

  The clock confirmed what he dreaded, it was indeed morning. 7 A.M. Late for some, too early for others; like Jack Steele. Crap. Jack had never, ever, been a morning person, not by the wildest stretch of the imagination. “How bakers do it I'll never know...” He let himself flop back to the mattress, perturbed at the early arrival of morning. Gazing absentmindedly at the dancing patterns of sunlight playing on the ceiling that filtered through the vertical blinds, he gradually cleared the morning cobwebs from his mind and began reviewing the day's checklist of things to do.

  Before Jack could finish his review, he caught movement in the shadows out of the corner of his vision and suddenly was acutely aware of everything around him. The low, dark figure which had entered the room so silently, sprang without warning over the foot of the bed, the two combatants wrestling on the bed, entangling themselves in the linens and blankets, fighting for whatever advantage they could manage. Abruptly, the tussle stopped. Jack poked the obscured form he had successfully wrapped in the sheets like a mummy and the form squirmed violently. With implied ferocity, it emitted a muffled snarl, then sneezed. "Give up?" Jack inquired. He carefully peeled back the sheets. Out popped a black, shiny nose, drawing deep huffing breaths, patiently awaiting another onslaught.

  Since none came, the long-legged German Shepherd tossed his head, throwing off the sheets revealing a handsome, expressive face, with deep brown twinkling eyes. His name was Fritz. Not a particularly imaginative name, but it was given to him as a pup and Jack felt it somehow seemed to fit the dog's curious intelligence and personality. Fritz gazed up into the eyes of his human partner. Giving a defiant harumph, the dog half crawled, half wiggled, out of his cocoon of sheets to reveal a strong, lean physique. His coat was long like a Collie but mostly chestnut in color with a small black saddle, an ivory bib and a narrow, tapered black mask across his shining brown eyes. Fritz shook himself to settle his coat and bounded off the now thoroughly messed bed. He barked a taunt as he trotted through the house, his nails clicking on the polished maple floors.

  Jack swung his feet over the side of the bed and pulled on a pair of beach shorts. He stared at the bed for a moment, the maid was going to hate this... she always did. Strolling through the house barefoot and shirtless, he stopped to pick up a dog leash off the kitchen counter which he knew he wouldn't need. Pausing at the refrigerator he snatched out a carton of orange juice and took a swallow, drinking straight from the container. It was a bad habit, but Fritz never complained.

  The duo stepped through the sliding glass doors and onto the warm planks of the sundeck that lead to the fine golden sand of the beach facing the Gulf of Mexico. As Fritz dashed across the fifty yards of sand to meet the incoming surf, Jack took pause to survey the expanse of scenery spread before him. The sky was already a turquoise blue without a trace of cloud and the breeze shushed through the palm trees and played with someone's wind chimes up the beach. Planting his feet firmly, he stretched his six-foot-two inch frame, arms extended towards the hot Florida sun and reveled in the glorious weather.

  While he was not overly muscular, his body was extremely well-defined. Choosing speed and flexibility over sheer mass, a lifetime of sports and selective martial arts left his physique lean and hard. While Jack proceeded through the stretching routines he did almost every morning, Fritz ran belly deep through the breaking waves. The Shepherd stopped momentarily to eye a woman jogging past. Jack noticed her too and admired her trim bouncing form as she trotted by, waving a friendly hello.

  Yep, gotta love Florida, thought Jack, smirking crookedly. He waved back then leaned on the railing with his elbows to watch the dog slosh in the gentle blue-green waves breaking on the rippled blonde sand. A squadron of four pelicans flying single-file along the shore glided easily past, an occasional stroke of their wings to maintain formation as they played with the ocean breeze.

  Shuttling new and used airplanes for delivery had become quite profitable. And
for the first time since his painful divorce four years back, Jack was doing well. Buying and renovating the beach house was his reward to himself after the long, hard road of financial and emotional rebuilding. The house wasn't big, like so many of the others along that area of the shore, but it was very comfortable. Another buyer probably would have knocked it down and built some multilevel monstrosity, but Jack had genuinely liked it for what it was. The three bedroom, two bathroom house, was solidly built, a throwback to the late fifties and early sixties where quality and durability came before the excesses of bigger is better... and then later when it became ostentatiously huge is better than simply bigger.

  Life's slippery slide downward began a year before his divorce, back when he was still a cop in Chicago. While recovering from the emotional scars of losing a close friend on the police department during a shootout with gang members, Jack took up flying. He found it profoundly exhilarating and relaxing at the same time. Unfortunately, his wife did not. She didn't like him being a cop either. She said one made him hard the other made him distant. At a time when he was forced to completely re-evaluate his life, she left him and took with her almost everything he owned... everything except the '66 Shelby Cobra he'd built. He was convinced the only reason she didn't pursue the car was the fact that she hated the thing. She liked luxury cars, and the Cobra was not ladylike enough for her. She considered it brutish with all its power and noise, while Jack considered the sound of the naturally aspirated 427 big block music to his ears. On reflection, there were a lot of things they didn't have in common, it was a wonder the marriage lasted as long as it did. Shortly thereafter, he realized the only things that made him truly happy, were the Cobra, flying and Fritz.