Wings of Steele- The Series, page 43
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
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Shortly after that, the dreams and visions. He was far away. Very far, farther than he'd ever been. But he was alive, she knew that. Then the never ending darkness. At first she thought this meant death. But no, there were other things, wondrous things. Now there was distress. He was in trouble. And pain, that was the latest one. Blinding pain.
Lynnette took a deep breath and finished the brandy as she watched the wind swirl the snow around the cars parked at the curb. Neither she nor Kyle took notice of the dark blue sedan sitting down the street with its motor running, the only vehicle for blocks without a blanket of snow covering it. It, or the gray one, which was always around somewhere.
"Let's go back to bed," said Kyle. She nodded. He decided then, they'd go to Florida and spend the rest of the winter at Jack's. Maybe she'll feel better there, he thought. The winter had come early and the cold weather was already wearing on them both.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
FREEDOM: TULOCHAH SYSTEM, GEO ZEE - PIRATE SALVAGE YARD
Steele drifted in and out, one day running into the next, inseparable and imperceptible in their passing except for the lessening of pain in his skull. Sometimes he would wake to feel a hand holding his, sometimes to voices, speaking softly. He came to the realization his bunk mates were disappearing one by one. But almost always, Fritz was there.
Alité sat in a chair at the side of the bed, her head resting on the edge of the mattress, her eyes closed. One hand held Jack's, their fingers intertwined, her other rested on Fritz's shoulder as he slept on the bed alongside his human.
She was awake the instant his hand squeezed hers, watching his face. The bandages, tubes, wires, all were gone now. All that remained was the surgical patch over his left eye socket. He would be in pain when he woke; the doctor had ended his medications. She moved her chair closer and hovered over him, squeezing his hand and kissing his arm. "C'mon, Jack, c'mon. Come back. We're waiting, we need you..."
"Sssshhh..." he whispered, "my head hurts."
"Oooh!" She squealed and jumped out of her chair. She leaned over and kissed his face over and over. Fritz was licking his chin.
He opened his eye and tried to focus in the dim light. "Where are we?"
"In our quarters," she replied. "CABL M7 thought you'd be more comfortable here. Besides, he needed the room."
"He likes it better when you call him Doc," mumbled Jack. "Why does he need more room?"
"For the refugees..."
"Refugees? What refugees? How long have I been here?"
"Look," she began, "I'm doing this badly. Let me start over..." She went on to explain that after the collision, the Freedom was adrift for almost a week, carried by the currents of the ether storm. After about a week the engineers were able to make sufficient enough repairs to restart two of the thrust engines.
Jack turned to look at her. "I guess I made a pretty good mess of things, haven't I?"
"Don't be silly," she scolded gently, "you did what you had to do to keep us all safe. If we would have surrendered, over half the crew could have been imprisoned. They knew that. The ones who used to be pirates would likely have faced life in a work prison... maybe even execution. You saved them and they know it. They speak of you in hushed tones, whispers. They almost worship you. You risked your life for them, they don't look at it the other way around. No one else has ever done that for them. No one else has ever cared..."
"But so many hurt..." He thought of Trigoss and swallowed hard.
“We lost two people... and saved a hundred...”
“The refugees?"
“Yes, you saved them too, without even knowing you did. If we had simply surrendered they would have starved to death, trapped here on a derelict ship with failing systems...”
“How did we find them...?”
"All of our sensors were useless in the storm, so when we got the engines started, we just went the direction we were pointed in. No destination, just go. When the storm cleared, we were here."
"Where's here?"
"The salvage depot you were looking for, of course." She kissed his hand.
“Of course,” he mumbled, his mind reeling.
"We've been here since, making repairs."
"And the people?"
"We found them on one of the ships while we were looking for parts. Thirty seven of them, all good people. They've been stranded here for several months, but they're ours now." She smiled like they were her own children. "You would be so proud of the crew... your crew. They've worked so hard. I think they're trying to repay you. I just can't believe they're almost finished..."
Jack was puzzled. "Finished... With what?"
"The ship, sweetheart." She touched his face.
She must be talking about some other ship, thought Jack. He couldn't believe there was enough of the Freedom left to work on. "Our ship?"
"Yes. This ship, your ship."
"Good Lord, how long have I been here... A year?" He realized he'd asked that before but couldn't remember if there had been an answer.
"Well you've been here in our quarters about four days," she paused, "but it's been over four weeks since the collision.”
"Collision... oh yeah...” he remembered it vaguely, or was it that he remembered being told about it... it was hard to separate the two. “Wait, did you say four weeks?"
She nodded, "More. Doc had to induce you into a coma for your own good..."
"Geez," he groaned, "all I did was fall down... I think."
Alité smiled, "Walt said you were thrown over ten feet. M7, er, Doc, said he was surprised your neck wasn't broken. When you landed, a broken piece of the console went through your eye and into your brain. You would have died if Ragnaar hadn't carried you straight into surgery. I heard he told Doc if he let you die, his life wasn't worth a plugged Ulurian nickel."
Jack smiled for the first time. "The Lieutenant has such a way with words..." As he stared at Alité's face and thanked whatever God was responsible for her presence, she held his hand to her lips and he saw the gold band on the ring finger of his own left hand. "What's that?" He asked trying to focus on it fully.
She lowered her eyes pensively, "I... I was so afraid you wouldn't come back to me... and I didn't think I could bear to live without at least a part of you." She sniffed. "So I took your name..." She held up her left hand to display her own ring. "You aren't angry, are you?"
“We're married...?” She nodded silently and Jack smiled, he felt warm all over. "How could I be angry with the most precious, beautiful creature in the known universe..." She held his hand against the smooth skin of her cheek and he could feel her blush. He smiled again, her eyes staring down into his, a warm amber, swimming with swirls of liquid chocolate. Mesmerizing.
"Besides," she cooed, "our baby needed a sir name."
"Baby?"
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"Flight One to bridge..."
"This is Walt, go ahead Pappy."
"We've got company..."
"The UFW carrier again?"
"Negative. Definitely pirate. Looks like a cross between a destroyer and a small cruiser. There's another smaller ship with it."
"Right. Go to blackout status." He thumbed the comm button to address the Freedom's crew, ship-wide. "This is an alert, all crew to battle stations. All systems to blackout status." He repeated the announcement.
"Flight leader to all flights, blackout status, we've got company!"
The depot was nothing more than a vast field of ships, most of them wrecks, held by a harmonic-pulse stasis field around an automated central generator plant. The Freedom had found it by luck in an asteroid belt orbiting a planet called Geo Zee. The depot was easily two hundred miles across in any direction, being shaped as a sphere. When the Freedom had maneuvered in and shut down her engines, the depot's automatic system locked on and held them in place. There were ships of almost every shape, size, type and origin. Some were nothing more than hollow skeletons looking like a zebra carcass after the jackals and vultures had picked it clean. But there were just as many that were fairly intact with full bellies, ripe for the picking... it was these that the Freedom needed to salvage parts, supplies and equipment from.
All around the perimeter of the depot, the Freedom's fighters maneuvered into the shadows of the larger vessels and shutting down their systems, clung to the darkened hulks like a flea to a dog. Only their comm units would stay on, the pilots would breathe and be warmed by the two hour reserve of the ejection chairs their flight suits were tethered to.
The Freedom herself appeared to be a hulk, showing no signs of life. Her crew would breathe bottled air if needed, when the static supply ran low. This was the third time in as many weeks this exercise had to be used. The first two times to remain undetected by the UFW carrier which seemed to be so bent on their capture. Now from a pirate patrol. Playing possum as Pappy called it, would continue in strict radio silence until an all clear could be called.
Paul had latched his Lancia onto a derelict ore freighter of enormous proportions. He eyed the two ships approaching through his cockpit perspex, coming right at him. Even though he knew he was literally invisible to them, he felt uncomfortably exposed. The pirate cruiser slowed as they approached, but the smaller of the two, which Paul's computer had identified as a small, fast, armed supply vessel, continued its egress. The cruiser slowed to a stop just short of the depot perimeter, but Paul experienced a chill as he realized the supply ship intended to enter the depot, presumably to scrounge for parts. He held his breath and watched as the ship passed close enough for him to see the lights of the bridge.
Brian was on the opposite side of the depot two hundred miles from Paul and had a different view. He could not see the pirates, but he could see something else, and he could tell no one... the UFW carrier was back.
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The lights flickered and went dim, staying at half power. "What's going on?" asked Jack.
"We must be going to battery backup," answered Alité.
Jack propped himself up on one elbow. "But why?"
"That pesky carrier keeps looking for us, he must be back again. But it's alright, we're safe. The Commander puts us on complete blackout status and that stupid carrier just wanders by. Paul calls it playing possum."
Jack smiled and nodded. "Of course he does."
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"Starboard turret five to bridge."
"Bridge," answered Walt.
"Pirate supply vessel is visible about twelve miles off starboard stern quarter. It appears to be shutting down."
Walt Edgars sat back in his chair after acknowledging the gunner's report. "That's just bloody wonderful," he said to no one in particular. "Just how long do they intend to stay?" The same gunner called back some moments later to inform the bridge the vessel had just launched what appeared to be two shuttles. Commander Edgars was not pleased.
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Brian watched in absolute horror as the carrier slowed and began to launch fighters outside the edge of the depot. He was too far to actually see the fighters clearly, but he could easily see the bright flares of light as each ignited its engines upon clearing the tubes. He was half tempted to switch on his computer to find out what type of fighters they were, but he knew this would broadcast his presence. He counted the flares as they appeared, ten fighters in all, grouped in two formations of five each. He lost them as they turned towards him, their engine flares no longer visible. What should he do? He fidgeted nervously and craning his neck, searched the darkened hulls around him. Can anyone else see them? He wondered if his hiding place was dark enough to hide him from the close scrutiny of a fighter. Then suddenly they were there, entering the depot... ten top-of-the-line Vulcan fighters.
Paul was twisted as far around in his seat as humanly possible, looking to see where the pirate's supply ship had gone to when he spied the shuttles gliding across the depot. To him it looked like they were angled toward the Freedom. "Oh for the love of God," he whispered to himself, "don't do that, pleeease." Then he looked around but could see none of his flight members. Just everybody stay put... he thought.
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The gunners relayed through the Freedom's intership comm, the shuttles' movements. "Starboard turret five, they're passing right underneath me now. They're armored shuttles, good size, probably a 30 man shuttle at least."
"Port turret four, I see them now. They're really giving us the once over."
"Port five, looks like they're trying to find a place to board..."
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The chills gave Brian the shakes as his body filled with adrenaline. He felt as obvious as an eleventh hour pimple - the one a teenager gets in the middle of the forehead an hour before a big date. The closest UFW fighter was only about a hundred meters away, close enough for Brian to see the figure of its pilot bathed in the glow of his electronics. Brian Carter forced his head back against the headrest and fought to control his breathing and the nervous energy which demanded to be let loose. The Vulcans slowly passed the Lancia, invisible in the shadows of the ruined tanker.
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"Conquest Control to Flight Leader, progress report."
The flight leader of the Vulcans thumbed his comm button, "Flight Leader to Conquest," he hissed, "why don't you just take out an ad in the interstellar news and tell everyone where we're at?" He released the comm button and shook his head. What an ass he thought. The Vice Admiral would surely get them all killed eventually. They had been out to this location five times this month without seeing a damn thing. The Vice Admiral was so obsessed with finding this rogue cruiser, he was taking risks and making mistakes that went beyond simple stupidity.
They were in pirate territory, alone, and navigated about recklessly and predictably, inviting a pirate task force ambush. He put it out of his mind and turned his attention back to the matter at hand; sneaking up on that cruiser... Hopefully it would be the right one and they could soon go back to regular duty.
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Paul wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as he watched the pirate cruiser angle towards him and the depot. He had lost the shuttles as they disappeared behind the Freedom, he hoped the pirate cruiser wasn't thinking of joining them. Then a sudden rush of fear swept him when fighters emerged from under the nose of the cruiser. "Oh God, we're in it now..." He flipped the safety covers off the engine igniters and locked them in the on position. He would do a cold start. He wondered just how fast he could get all his systems running, detach from the freighter, and get his shields up. More fighters emerged. Paul rolled his head around to loosen the muscles of his neck and held his thumb poised above the comm button. OK boys... he thought.
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"Bridge to all stations... status, can anyone see what they're doing?"
"This is port turret three, they're not doing much of anything, sir. They stopped next to us and it looks like they've shut down."
The Professor sat back in his command chair and rubbed his chin. "I don't get it. Do you, Lieutenant?"
Ragnaar turned in his seat. "They could be waiting to ambush someone, sir..."
"Starboard turret six to bridge, fighters!" She was watching through hand viewers. "Coming in hot from the stern... Two flights of five!" She added, after counting. "They're headed right for us!"
"Bridge to all stations," announced Walt, "stand by to power up on my command..." He turned to Raulya, "Full shields too, my dear."
"Sir...!" Ragnaar's voice snapped the Commander around. "Sir, we have six more fighters, coming in from ahead!"
Walt rose from his seat. "All stations..."
"WAIT!" Everyone turned to the voice. Jack Steele stood in the doorway of the bridge, dressed in uniform and warmed by a flight jacket draped across his shoulders. Alité stood under one arm, keeping him steady on his feet. "If they were a threat to us," he continued, "they would have already hit us by now. Wait it out..." They watched in silence as the two flights of UFW Vulcans screamed over the top of the Freedom's hull then angled off to engage the approaching pirate fighters.
"How could you have been so sure?" asked Walt.
Jack shrugged weakly, "I wasn't - not a hundred percent anyway." He eased to the floor with Alité's help. "Whew... that was a long walk, I need a rest."
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Paul took a deep breath and tried to swallow his heart when he saw the Vulcans. He was relieved and concerned at the same time if that was possible. It meant the Freedom hadn't been spotted, but for how long? He would just have to wait and see.
Fighters from both sides raced back and forth through the depot, zig-zagging around the wrecks held in stasis, the dogfight raging in tight swirls and running pursuits. Pirate after pirate fell to the guns of the UFW Vulcans. One hot pirate pilot managed to escape destruction by weaving his Falken fighter through the exposed engine supports of a rusting tanker. The pursuing Vulcan pilot wasn't lucky enough to make it through, his only legacy a blackened smear on the tanker's hull, pranged engine supports and some twisted, floating debris.
The pirate fighters were no match for the UFW Vulcans and even after launching additional fighters, could do little more than play hide and seek in a game of tag that encompassed the entire depot. Seeing the difficult position of his fighters and their dwindling number, the Captain of the pirate cruiser chose to withdraw and abandon his charge, the supply ship. Maybe he was actually hoping to draw off the carrier and let the smaller ship escape. In either case, the result was the carrier discarded its position of anonymity and took chase.
The Flight Leader of the UFW Vulcans caught the departure of his carrier on his sensor scope and broke off pursuit on a sure kill allowing the pirate pilot to escape death. "Leader to all Conquest birds, disengage! Repeat, disengage!" He wrenched the stick to avoid the hull of a darkened cruiser and did not notice the two shuttles hiding in its shadows.
