Firstborn

The welcoming smell of coffee wafted toward her. Flaring her nostrils and inhaling deeply, Annie made her way around two other helos in the hangar. The coffee dispenser was on the wall to the right of the open bay, and Annie headed straight to it. A day didn’t begin without coffee!

As she stirred in cream and sugar, she heard booted feet coming in her direction, mingling with the clink of tools and the hushed voices of crew members. She looked up as she took a sip of the brew. Sergeant Kat Lakey, her crew chief, was hurrying her way, dressed in a green T-shirt, cammos and black boots. At twenty-five, Kat was a year older than her. Annie was happy this woman took care of her bird, for Lakey was the best crew chief on the base, in her opinion.

“’Morning, Kat. You look like you’re on a mission. What’s up?” Annie grinned, looking pointedly at the watch on her right wrist.

Kat smiled and halted. “Yes, ma’am, I believe I am.” Hooking her thumb toward the operations building in the distance, she said, “While you were out just now, I received a call from Ops. From our squadron commander, Colonel Dugan. He wants to see you immediately. I saw you step back into the hangar and thought I’d tell you. He called about two minutes ago.”

Sipping more of the coffee to hide her surprise, Annie nodded. “Okay…Geez, it’s early for him to be up and moving around, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am, I think so.” Kat raised a brow. “But Colonel Dugan is famous for saying the early bird gets the worm.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that one.”

“You know what it’s about, ma’am?”

“Hmm? Me? No. Why? Do you? You’re good at knowin’ all the base gossip, Kat. What dirt have you heard lately?” Annie grinned at the sergeant. Kat had a mop of brown hair and a long, narrow face blanketed with freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her gray eyes twinkled with silent laughter.

“No, nothing new, ma’am. I know we’re going to start combat training flights tomorrow, though. With live ammo.” Kat rubbed her hands, grinning wolfishly. Live ammo wasn’t used often. It cost money for shells, so usually electronic laser shots were used in training. Everyone looked forward to having the Apaches’ considerable arsenal be “hot and live”—real rockets, missiles or bullets instead of a namby-pamby red beam of light to equate a kill.

Chuckling, Annie nodded. “Yeah, I can hardly wait. Okay, I’ll grab a ride over to Ops. You doin’ okay on the software checks? I want my bird in top shape for tomorrow’s live-fire exercises.”

“Goin’ fine, ma’am. She’s not a hangar queen.” Kat chuckled.

Annie smiled and said, “Thank goodness she’s not that! Okay, I’ll get back over here ASAP.”

“Ma’am…”

Annie hesitated. “Yes?”

“Do you think this might be about Chief Dailey’s leaving? You do need a new pilot to fly with you. Could the colonel be callin’ you over to let you know a new team member has been assigned to us?”

“That would be my thinking, Kat.” She lifted her hand. “I see the base bus that’ll give me a lift to Ops. You’ll be the first to know when I get back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“At ease, Chief Dazen,” Colonel Dugan said. He pointed toward a brown leather chair set off to one side of his dark green metal desk. “Sit down, please.”

Annie smiled quickly and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She perched on the edge of the chair, hands on her thighs, and gazed at him expectantly. The look on Dugan’s oval, pockmarked face puzzled her. He was frowning, his short blond hair gleaming with reddish highlights beneath the fluorescent light above his desk. She knew he was in his mid-fifties, but he appeared far more youthful.

There were what appeared to be several personnel jackets scattered across his desk, and he was thumbing through them. Annie smiled slightly as she watched him. She liked her commanding officer. Red Dugan was a legend in his own time. He’d been one of the first to fly the lethal Boeing Apache combat helicopters, had helped create the curriculum to teach pilots how to fly it at Fort Rucker, and had a long, impressive combat record to boot. Annie had flown with him from time to time and had learned a lot from the highly decorated pilot.

“Annie, there’s no nice way to say this,” Red muttered as he lifted his head after moving the files around on his desk. “I have a problem, and I hope you can help me solve it.”

Ordinarily, her C.O. never addressed her by her first name. In fact, Annie could count on one hand the times he had done so in the year that she’d been with the Eagle Warrior Squadron. Something was definitely up. “Okay…sir. Sure, what can I do to help?”

He smiled a little. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve chosen you for this, uh, assignment.” Lifting out a file, he set it on top of the others. “Two days ago, I got a call from the C.O. of another Apache squadron who told me he had a problem pilot on his hands. This pilot, CWO3 Jason Trayhern, is now being reassigned to us.”

Frowning, Annie said, “Okay, sir.” She bit back any questions she might have. Although her curiosity was burning her alive at this point, one didn’t throw questions at a commanding officer. One waited for the C.O. to lay out the plan of action instead.

Opening the file, Dugan growled unhappily, “CWO3 Trayhern is a problem, Annie. But his father, Morgan Trayhern, is highly respected by all branches of the military. We try to take care of our own. Have you heard of Morgan Trayhern?”

“Yes, sir, I have. He was a Marine Corps officer in the closing days of the Vietnam War. His company got overrun and only two people survived, him and another guy.”

“Yes, and there was a cover-up by our government on this particular operation when the company was lost. They painted Captain Trayhern as a traitor to whitewash the debacle, which was really the fault of the commanders above him. He, in the meantime, had suffered a severe concussion and was taken to Japan to recuperate. It was then that the CIA got involved. Morgan had amnesia and didn’t remember who he was, so, with the approval of the French government, they invented a new name and history for him and sent him off to the French Foreign Legion after his recovery. Out of sight, out of mind, or so the government officials thought. Trayhern remained there many years until one day his memory came back, and when it did, he returned to the United States to clear his name.”

“His family has a long history of serving in the U.S. military,” Annie said.

“That’s right. Their service record stretches back two hundred years, a real role model for the military way of life in this country. Despite that, Morgan Trayhern had to go through a lot to clear his name and restore his family’s honor after he was branded a traitor.” Dugan smiled faintly. “The man did it. He investigated on his own and finally was able to identify the men who had colluded against him.” Waving his hand, the colonel said, “That’s history now. But since then Morgan started a supersecret agency known as Perseus, which works closely with the CIA. His expertise has been focused on helping people around the world when the country in question can’t or won’t handle the problem. Suffice it to say, Mr. Trayhern has worked with every U.S. military service, and continues to do so to this day. I’ve met the man myself, and he is a true hero. He’s someone the military does not want to let down if we can at all help it.”

Hearing the awe in Dugan’s voice, Annie was impressed. “And his son is coming here? He’s being assigned to us?”

Nodding, Dugan set his lips in a frown. “Yes.”

“Then, sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you looking so unhappy about all of this?” If the son was anything like the father, Annie thought, he’d be a real asset. A hero in the making.

“Because, Annie,” Dugan replied, looking at her across the desk, “the two Trayherns are nothing alike. Have you heard of Jason Trayhern?

“Uh, no, sir.”

“When he was a third-year cadet in the Naval Academy at Annapolis, he got enmeshed in a drug ring scandal. He was never found with drugs, but names of cadets who had purchased them were found on his laptop computer. The people who conducted the investigation at Annapolis think his roommate set up Trayhern to take the fall. Jason and his lawyer had said from the get-go that Trayhern was framed. But the cadets have this skewed honor code and they don’t rat on their brother or sister cadets. No one came forward in his defense, so they booted him out.”

“Ouch. What must his family have felt like?” Annie murmured. “Or him, if he was innocent? I’d be really angry about it.”

“Precisely. It was a black mark against the Trayhern military dynasty, a blemish of the worst sort.”

“And he talked to the investigation officials?”

“Yes, he did, but the ‘blue wall’ closed ranks—the cadets refused to give up the real culprits to clear Trayhern’s good name. If someone had come forward to vouch for him, more than likely Annapolis officials would have allowed him to stay, all things being equal.” Dugan opened his hands. “I know from talking with one of the admirals at the school that they really wanted to save the senior Trayhern from this kind of embarrassment. But his son was caught with the evidence on his laptop and couldn’t explain how it got there.”

Shaking her head, Annie said, “Well, sir, we don’t know all the details.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Running his hand through his short blond hair, he added, “And that’s why I’ve chosen you, Annie, to deal with Trayhern. I need the most astute, intelligent pilot I have in my squadron to handle this mess coming our way.”

Annie sat up straight. “The mess being Jason Trayhern?”

“That’s a roger. We’re getting him dropped on us because he’s a loner, Annie. He’s not a team player. He’s said to be rebellious, angry and arrogant, from what Major Butler has told me. Two pilots in his regiment petitioned Butler to have Trayhern replaced, because the man simply refuses to get along with anyone else in the cockpit.”

“Oh, sir…”

“Sorry, Annie. You don’t deserve this kind of partner, either. I’m sorry we had to give Chief Mike Dailey a medical discharge. No one wished more than me that his high blood pressure problem could be resolved. You two were my ace team in the squadron, and I really hated to see him go. But we can’t have a pilot at risk in the cockpit, either. And now you’re the only one in the squadron without a copilot.”

Annie thought back to earlier that morning, when the red-tailed hawk had screamed out for her attention. When she’d asked what message it brought, the exact feeling she had right now had blanketed her. She felt upset. In chaos.

“So you’re assigning Chief Trayhern to me?”

“Yes, I am, Annie.” Dugan shrugged. “Ordinarily, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but the situation is unique. I know Morgan Trayhern personally. I’m sure that, as a father, he’s going through hell right now because his son has gotten booted out of two Apache squadrons in a year’s time. This boy of his is a real burr under the saddle—his and ours. I had a choice in whether or not to take Trayhern. I’m doing this as a favor to his father. We’re going to give Jason Trayhern one last chance.”

Chewing on her lower lip, Annie sat there digesting the problem. “Sir, we’re slated to go over to Afghanistan in a month.”