Independence Day: Crucible (The Official Prequel) (36 page)

“I’ll keep this brief,” Mitchum said. “I have persuaded the powers-that-be that an article thirty-two hearing is—how can I put this? A bad idea. It would only drag something out that we want to put behind us as quickly as possible. In part, you can thank Lieutenant Hiller for this—he refuses to sign a complaint against you, and his only testimony is that you made a profound misjudgment. From what I have seen of the data, I would tend to agree, but bad judgment comes in a variety of scents—and in your case, it stinks. I don’t know what sort of ax you were grinding, Morrison, and I don’t care, but it ends now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said.

“You’ll finish flight school, but I’m reassigning you. You’re too dangerous to fly a fighter.”

He’d known it was probably coming, but it still felt like a kick in the gut.

“Understood, sir,” he said.

“No snappy comeback?” Mitchum said. “No sarcastic comment?”

“Not today, sir,” Jake said.

“Then you’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

* * *

It was cold outside, and the light was fading. In the deep indigo to the east, stars were appearing. He watched as an H-8 took flight from behind the distant hangar. He followed it as its running lights quickly dimmed with distance. He sighed.

“You really screwed up,” a familiar voice said.

“Patricia?”

He turned to find her watching him from a few meters away, bundled in an overcoat.

“Hi,” she said.

“How—?”

“I wasn’t able to get in touch with you for a week,” she said. “You didn’t think I would wait any longer, did you?”

“I thought—”

“Don’t think, Jake,” Patricia said. “Not your strongest attribute.”

He studied her for a moment, trying to read her. Was she angry? Disgusted?

“I did screw up,” he said finally. “I just wanted it so much…” He trailed off.

“That doesn’t justify anything, does it?” he blinked when he saw her expression. “What?” he asked.

“They sat on it for three hours, Jake,” she exploded. “For three hours I knew that there had been a crash, that a fighter had been destroyed. For three hours I thought one or both of you could be dead.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“I know,” she said.

He reached for her again, but something stopped him, and he dropped his hand by his side.

“Patricia,” he said. “Look. I’d understand if you didn’t…” He couldn’t quite finish.

She frowned. “You think I flew all the way out here and waited around in the cold to
dump
you? Morrison, sometimes I think your head isn’t set on straight. Stop moping already and kiss me.”

He stared at her for a heartbeat or two and then he did that, and for a while nothing seemed to matter. Then Patricia drew back a little.

“It’s cold,” she said. “Let’s go get a drink and a bite to eat.”

“Are you sure?” he said. “I’m not too popular around here these days. It’s a small town. People may see us together. Word might get around.”

“Yeah,” she said. “About that. Turns out I don’t care nearly as much about that as I thought I did. Not after—well, priorities change. I’m not ashamed of you, Jake. You made a mistake, a bad one. It could just as easily have been Dylan who made it, the way you two go after each other, but it’s not the end of the world, is it?”

He took that in and nodded.

“I won’t be flying fighters,” he said. He squeezed her hand. “But I guess, at least—”

“At least?” Her eyebrows jumped up and she pulled her hand away. “Hang on there. You don’t think I’m some kind of consolation prize, do you? Because if that’s how it is, I guess I
did
fly out here for nothing.”

“No!” he said. “Patricia, God no. I’ve wanted to fly since I was a kid. It’s the first thing I remember wanting, the last thing I thought about every night before I closed my eyes. Until I met you. After that I thought—I
knew
—you were my future. At first I believed that was because you were going to the Academy too, that we had shared goals. But since you left flight school I realized—it’s not about that. It’s about you. About how I want to be with you. If I had to choose between being a pilot or being with you, I’d stay grounded for the rest of my life.”

“The rest of your life?” she said, after a little pause. “That could be a while.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath, “but I don’t see a rest of my life without you in it. When I try to, I draw a blank.”

It hung there for a minute, and despite the chill he felt as if he was sweating. Then she smiled a little. To Jake, it felt like the sun rising.

“I know what you mean,” she said.

“You do?”

Yes,” she said, and she kissed him again. “Now let’s get in out of the cold.”

“Right,” he said. He took her hand and they started walking.

After a few steps she looked up at him.

“You know you’re going to have to do that again, right?” she said. “With a ring and flowers. And use the actual words, posed as a question.”

“Yeah,” Jake said, “I get that.”

* * *

Jake met Charlie at the airport with his bags.

“Valedictorian,” Jake said. “I knew you could do it, Charlie. I wish I could have been there to see you walk.”

“That’s okay,” Charlie said. “To tell the truth, it was pretty boring, all in all.”

“That’s the way I remember it,” Jake said. “So are you ready for flight school?”

“Followin’ in your footsteps, bro,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “That’s not a very good idea. Better you follow in your own footsteps—or, whatever, you know what I mean.”

“Hey,” Charlie said. “At least you didn’t get court-martialed or anything.”

“Looking on the bright side these days?” Jake said.

“Why not?” Charlie said. “We made it.”

Jake snorted. “You made it. I’ve flown the last fighter I’m ever going to fly.”

“But you are going to fly, right?” Charlie said.

“Sure,” Jake said. “If you want to call it that. I’m assigned to tugs.”

“That’s, ah—that’s great,” Charlie said.

“Don’t even—” Jake said. “But look, it’s my fault. I blame no one.”

“Really, not even a smidgen?”

Jake struggled with that. It was his fault, sure, technically, but if Dylan had pulled away, just let him have it…

That was pointless. He’d nearly killed the Chosen One. Charlie was right—he was lucky not to be in prison, much less still in the service.

“How is Dylan?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know,” Jake said. “Physically okay, I guess, but he’s not talking to me.”

“And Patricia?”

Jake couldn’t keep from grinning. “That’s still good,” he said. He clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “You know what? You’re right. We did okay for a couple of orphans, and at least one of us is going to fly a fighter.”

“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “I hear all the cool kids are piloting tugs.”

Rain rose early, dressed, and reached for her flight jacket. She held it for a moment, not quite believing it was hers. She ran her fingers along the seams of the Legacy Squadron patch.

Everyone seemed to think it had been easy for her, that it was inevitable she would represent China in the international unit—but to her, it was still unbelievable. Inside her there still lived that little girl, bitter over the loss of her parents, angry at the universe, the arc of her life bending toward ruin. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Jiang, she knew things would be very different at this moment. Very few people her age even had aunts or uncles, so she had been more than lucky.

She put on the jacket and went outside. It was still dark, and the moon stood nearly straight overhead. She looked up at it, tracing the familiar face of the satellite with her gaze, focusing at last on the spot where the moon base was. Without a telescope, she couldn’t see it, of course, but she knew it was there, and so was Uncle Jiang. It felt almost as if he was looking down on her.

Soon she would be there herself, with her new squadron, and she would see him again.

She made her way across the frozen ground to the hangar, where the guards recognized her and waved her through. She continued on until she found it, her ship.

“Ms. Lao,” someone said. “You’re up early.”

She looked down and saw that it was one of the mechanics, an older fellow whose name she did not know. He seemed to be fiddling with one of the engines.

“Hello, sir,” she said. “Is anything the matter?”

“No,” he said. “I’m just making certain that she’s ready for her next flight. I’ve been assigned as part of your ground crew.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Would you tell me your name?”

“It’s Lu, ma’am,” he said.

“I appreciate your attention, Lu. I’m honored you chose my ship to maintain.”

“The honor is mine,” he said, sliding out from beneath the H-4 and standing up. “In fact, I asked for the assignment.”

“Why?” Rain asked.

“It was my great honor to crew for your father on his last flight,” Lu said. “I believed he would wish me to serve his daughter. He talked about you so much, and your mother, May. He would be very proud of you.”

At first, Rain didn’t know what to say. She just looked at him.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “And thank you for telling me.”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “What are you doing up so early?” he asked.

“I just wanted to see it,” she said. “I’m trying to think of a name.”

“Names are important,” Lu said. “They were to your father.”

“Were they?” she said, surprised, wondering how he could know that.

Lu nodded. “The last plane he flew was an old Shenyang J-8. It was about sixteen years old, not even close to state-of-the-art. We lost most of our better jets in the failed attacks on the destroyers. I did my best with it, updated some of the radar equipment—but it all had to be done so fast. I was very young. I sometimes wonder, if I had been a better mechanic…” He trailed off. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t want to hear an old man rambling.”

“No, wait,” she said. “You were saying something about names.”

“Oh,” Lu said. “Yes. He named her
Beautiful Wind
.”

“
Beautiful Wind
,” she repeated. “
Meifeng
.”

Lu nodded. “I remember thinking at the time it was an odd name for a plane.”

In the flicker of that moment, she saw in the space behind her eyes her father’s face, that face she once believed she had forgotten. Beside him, a woman smiling down at her.

“It was my mother’s name,” Rain said softly. “He usually just called her ‘May,’ but it was really Meifeng.”

Lu looked a bit chagrined. “I hope I haven’t brought up unpleasant memories,” he said.

“You haven’t,” she said. “To have any memory of them at all is a blessing. Thank you.”

She bowed to him, and then went back out to look at the stars.

* * *

Dikembe lay in bed, knowing he was awake, unable to move anything but his eyes. He didn’t know where he was, only that he’d been dreaming strange and horrible dreams, and that they had followed him from the waters of sleep into the night air. The darkness seemed filled with unseen presences lurking just beyond what he could see and hear, hints of strange, liquid eyes and a babble of nearly intelligible voices.

He couldn’t turn his head, but
it
came to
him
, entering his frozen field of vision a little at a time. It was like a moon rising, but then he began to see the score across it, and his heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to close his eyes, to scream, to push the terror inside of him away. He thought he knew fear. He thought he had mastered it. But this was the worst, the brightest terror he had ever known.

Then his mind finally found his body, and it spasmed as if an electric shock had been run through it. His legs kicked involuntarily as the paralysis broke, and he fell heavily from the bed onto the hardwood floor.

When he looked back up, there was nothing there.

Groaning, he pushed himself up and pressed his hand to his forehead. He threw on a robe and made his way from the room, down the hall, to what had once been his father’s office but which now belonged to him. He turned on the lamps, but not the overhead lights.

Dikembe began to draw. He drew until the daylight filtered into the atrium and cocks crowed in the town. And finally, after so many trials, one came out right, or so close to right that it sent a surge of fear through him just to look at it.

Then he got up for a cup of coffee and sat on the veranda, bathing in the morning light, trying to put distance between him, his nightmares, and the thing he had drawn.

Yet the peace he sought did not come, not even momentarily, for as he turned his gaze to the monstrous ship that yet squatted on the savanna beyond the walls of his compound, he saw that something was not right. It took him a few moments of staring before he realized what it was. Then he leapt up and called for his guard to assemble the vehicles—and as they did so he quickly donned his uniform. He took his seat in one of the trucks, and in a few moments they were racing down a dusty road that was all too familiar.

They came to the edge of the hill—the one his father had come over in the tank. The day he lost his brother to death and his father to madness. From there he stared out at the massive ship, quiet for so many years.

“Gather the army,” he said. “Bring every heavy weapon we have, and do it quickly. Evacuate the nearby villages.”

He held up his hand, and he saw that even in the daylight it took on a bluish tint.

This time it was going to be different. He wasn’t going to make the mistakes his father had made.

This time, the world would know.

* * *

When the woman’s face appeared on the screen, at first David Levinson didn’t recognize her. But then she smiled.

“Director Levinson,” she said. “How are you?”

“Patricia?” he said. “Is that you?”

“It’s me,” she said.

“Ah… It’s been a while. You’ve grown up.”

“So they tell me,” she said.

He paused a moment, trying to think of something to say.

“I hear you’re working for the president.” He could see from the background that she was in the White House. It was impossible not to think of Connie, in her suit, always in motion, always with a purpose.