Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (23 page)

On the bridge of the
HMS Homanju
, wide eyed, Cdr.
Johnston reeled and hit the ship to ship com-button. “All ships return to
flagship! All ships return to flagship!”

“Sorry, sir,” JD said. “It’s dead. Our signal is scrambled.”

He hit another button. “Fulvus to the bridge.”

The admiral stepped from his office onto the bridge. On the
huge screen, a tactical display showed multiple blips heading toward them.
“What am I looking at, Commander?”

“The rebel fleet, sir,” Johnston said. “They’re massing to
strike.”

It took a moment to register, but when reality hit him, Fulvus
stumbled back and slumped into a random chair. His mind raced for answers and
options. Sure, the Kodiaks could engage them but such numbers would overcome
even those beasts.

The helmsman turned to him abruptly, “Sir! They have two
Xebecs with them. What do we do?”

Undisciplined, Fulvus panicked and began to spout orders
that made little military sense. “Full reverse!” he said. “Order the
Rutledge
to block them!”

“Belay that!” shouted Commander Johnston. “
Homanju
is
a battle cruiser well capable of putting up a fight. And so we must! Sir, if we
run, if we leave the added safety of the carrier, we’ll insure our doom.”

Fulvus’s jaw dropped, and the blood drained from his face.

Every trained military man here knew that if they were set
upon while alone, they’d be overtaken in a matter of moments. The massive ship
was cumbersome and slow to accelerate. Survival dictated they stay with the
carrier and combine their efforts with it. In doing so they had a better chance
of holding out until help arrived.

“Target the Xebecs,” Johnston ordered. “Bring the guns to
bear! JD, continue your efforts to contact the Talons. Order them back at once.
And order the
Rutledge
to cover our rear. Helm, move us into position to
cover theirs.”

The bridge crew moved quickly, grateful a real officer was
now in command.

Fulvus jumped to his feet, grabbed Johnston, and shoved him
hard. “No!” he growled. “We got to get out of here!”

Johnston shoved the Admiral back. He fell into the command
chair. Johnston motioned to Thuggins at the door.

Instantly, the guard turned his M1-A80 on Fulvus and fired.

The admiral convulsed as each charged bullet passed through
his body. Fulvus—hole riddled and spurting blood—slumped where he sat.

Johnston glowered at the guard. “Idiot! You were just
supposed to restrain him!”

Surprised by the suggestion, Thuggins smirked. “So, consider
him restrained.”

The commander’s jaw clenched, but he had no time for the
brutish guard.

Sergeant Thuggins cocked his head and spoke with an uncommon
callousness. “I had my orders. If you don’t like the results, take it up with
my boss, Senator Carringer.”

Handpicked by the senator, the guard’s reason for existence
became clear. Johnston could guess how Fulvus had really come to power, and
that his doing so had ruffled the wrong feathers. And, as for the guard, Johnston
knew he couldn’t touch him . . .
yet
.

However . . .
accidents
happen. In the back
of Johnston’s mind he saw Thuggins destined for an airlock mishap.

Just then the flagship bucked and tossed the bridge crew
around like rag dolls.

Johnston scrambled to his feet and hit the com’s console.
“Gunners, fire at will.” The ship bolted to one side. Consoles shorted,
spitting sparks and fire. Smoke began to fill the room.

Like wolves on a deer the rebels swarmed their prey to
brutally tear at both the flagship and carrier. The return fire was intense.
The Xebecs, taking the brunt, held against the assault.

From the flagship, Johnston called for help as he watched
sections of his own ship tear away or explode violently into space. Those of
his men on their feet soon found themselves sprawled on the floor; all others
clung to whatever they could and held on for dear life.

Power abruptly died. The synthetic gravity failed. The ship
bucked. And Johnston found himself flung to the ceiling along with everyone
else and everything not nailed down. JD floated nearby with a severely deep cut
on his brow. Without gravity, JD’s blood began to pool at the wound.

“Did you get through?” Johnston asked the radioman beside
him.

JD nodded weakly. “Short range only, sir. The Talons might
have heard, but . . .” His eyes closed.

Johnston grabbed JD’s collar to pull the young man closer.
He checked the carotid. No pulse.

Jordon and Josh jetted from the asteroids to engage the
Kodiaks which the two Xebecs had engaged in an exchange of heated gunfire.
Against the mean gunships, the Xebecs suffered severe damage, but their
captains refused to leave the fight. Before long, with Jordon and Joshua’s help,
all four Kodiaks were reduced to scrap iron and life pods.

Capt. Chonri’s corsair,
Zion’s Prize
, faced heavy
pounding. Fifteen feet of its bow began to tear away. Seeing this Captain Muncy
brought
Star Chaser
in to take up the blows otherwise directed at the
wounded ship. Chonri, now with room to breathe, got his shields back up and
reentered the fight.

Captain McCarthy joined Muncy in the mêlée to completely
destroy the guns of the
Rutledge
. Then all three turned back to hit the
Homanju
.
Soon all six Confederation ships, laid waste and helpless, began to drift.

Rebel repair crews immediately went to work. to give new
life to their own ships. They started with the four most damaged among them.

None too soon Buck’s group turned back into the asteroid
field and caught the Talons that were now hurrying to the flagship’s rescue.
With the Talons’ speed greatly reduced in and among the asteroids the small
vessels held no advantage and soon found themselves only so much twisted and
burning metal because of the rebel’s guns.

The light Confederate cruisers found themselves the rebel’s
next targets.

With the rebel fleet now somehow behind them the cruisers,
with their vulnerable aft exposed, needed desperately to turn around to meet
the rebels head-on. But in the tight confines of Saigus, any quick turn cost
them plenty. They slammed into rocks or each other in a frantic attempt to
escape their situation.

Worse yet they had to contend with Katusia. Isaac Katusia, a
Rhone scientist, discovered materials in the Saigus asteroids that made for
great rockets. Every Katusia rocket’s component, from the guidance system to
the warhead explosive, came from compounds found in these asteroids. Unless one
had specialized scanning equipment, and knew what to look for, a Katusia
rocket-rack was virtually undetectable.

Mounted throughout the asteroids were dozens of these rocket
launchers. Each carried twenty rockets. Every time a Cruiser’s rear-end
presented itself the rockets auto-launched with deadly accuracy.

As if that wasn’t bad enough for the Confederate ships, two
small Talons armed with Phiton charged particle cannons proved themselves even
more difficult to contend with. Jordon and Josh targeted the scanners of the
first few cruisers they happened upon, which left the big ships blind. Unable
to find their way through the asteroid field with cane or canine the cruisers
stopped moving altogether.

A few more Confederate cruisers’ took blow after blow from
Katusia rockets, severely weakening their shields if they didn’t collapse
altogether. As they scrambled to evade the Katusias and the two traitorous
Talons the huge ships wrecked themselves on the massive boulders, enough
anyway, to tear gaping holes in their sides. And they had yet to face the fast
approaching rebel fleet.

In spite of their repair crews’ best efforts and frantic
work to keep them afloat one Confederation ship after the next lost power and
began to drift. Life support systems faltered, and the call to launch escape
pods from the doomed ships came.

Unable to respond to their compatriots’ calls for help or their
panicked screams, those aboard the larger cruisers outside the asteroid field
could do no more than keep watch and wait. The smaller vessels were simply
situated beyond their reach. Entering the asteroids to attempt a rescue at this
point was no more than a fool’s errand.

This was the way of pirates, rogues, and scalawags; lure an
enemy out of his element and into yours to gain the advantage. Get him to fight
on your turf and by your rules instead of you on his.

Up to this point Jordon and Buck’s plan, though not without
fault, had worked well. Only a few Rebel vessels had taken serious damage thus
far, but even those ships remained in the fight in spite of it. By the time the
rebel fleet came upon the cruisers trapped in the asteroid field, there was
little left for Buck’s people to do except gather escape pods and imprison
their occupants.

With the easy part over, Buck and Jordon, with little more
than slingshots, were now left to face the giants and their massive guns beyond
the asteroids. Out in the open, Buck’s people would be more vulnerable than
ever.

Leaving the Providence fleet far behind Riley released
control of
Viper
to Ericca. She was, after all, the better pilot, and
they had need of him on the scanners as they headed for planet Coredei, a
pirates’ stronghold.

Just outside a little village called Derbe, to keep cover,
the Archers swung in low to skirt the ground. They found the estate they were
looking for and landed behind the stables. Ericca climbed out and, with Riley
behind her, peeked around a building’s corner.

Skuppers Linstrom was busy brushing down a horse. He was a
very round, very beefy stable hand who had a loud but friendly manner. The big
Swede was with Tyson Blackhart when they’d come into the tavern that first day.
It was Skuppers who had pulled the men off Ericca. The would-be-rapists were
large and muscular, but Skuppers found no difficulty in holding each off the
floor with one hand.

“Psst!”

Scupper’s head popped up. He looked around. Seeing nothing
he went back to brushing out the horse.

“Psst! Skuppers!”

He looked back and saw Ericca duck back behind the corner of
the building. “Little One?” he shouted happily.

Ericca rolled her eyes. Neither tact nor subtlety were
Skuppers strong suits.

He came around the corner and made no effort to be quiet
about it. With a big smile he spread his arms to welcome the two youths.
“Little One!” he repeated loudly. “Ah, is Riley too! You’ve come home at long last.
All of us, ev-e-ry one”—he shook a finger to emphasize each salable—“is missing
you . . . always.” Although his English had much improved he still
had quite an accent.

Ericca shhhed him. “Don’t give us away!”

“What? Why, little one?” he said without restraint.

“Skuppers, will you please not give us away?”

As if the light had finally came on, the big Swede hunkered
his shoulders and slinked the two steps to the building before spinning to
press his back to the wall. But his belly still extended outward far more that Ericca
liked. For a man built like him, hiding was impossible.

“Skuppers,” Archer said quietly, “Blackhart will kill us if
he discovers we’ve returned.”

“He will? No, that can’t be. Master Blackhart loves you kids.”

Ericca spoke quietly “I’m afraid not, my big friend. He made
it clear that—”

“Wait!” Archer interrupted. “Are we talking about the same Blackhart
here?”

“I’m telling you,” Skuppers said, “Tyson is master now.”

“Tyson is master?” Ericca said. “What happened to the old
man?”

Skuppers beamed like Christmas had come a dozen times this
year. “Saundler is dead!”

“You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

“I’m don’t like Saundler.” Skuppers spat on the ground to
punctuate his disrespect.

“When did that happen?”

Skuppers paused for a brief moment. “The day after you go, he
is having heart-attack in his study. No one is knowing until too late.” He spat
again. “Goodbye to him. He is the devil’s problem now. Saunder is aggravation
even for him, I think.”

“Wow,” Archer said. “If we had only waited one lousy day . . .”

“Come.” Skuppers hooked an arm over each young person’s
shoulder and pressed them forward and around the corner. He led them toward the
mansion. “Tyson will be sooo happy, Little One. He is missing you most of all.”

With his father gone, Tyson Blackhart was now the highest
ranking pirate. His home, a large estate with a palatial castle-
esque
mansion at its center—
complete with stone wall, manicured garden, Grecian
statues, and fountains spraying glistening water umbrellas
—was usually a
quiet retreat away from the hustle and bustle of the owner’s thieving business
affairs.

But not this day. This day the place was a hive of activity.
When the groundskeepers spotted the Archers, they immediately dropped what they
were doing and ran to greet them with a flurry of smiles, handshakes, and enthusiastic
pats on the back, and might have held then there all day with questions had
Skuppers not pushed through.

They Even entered the main hall, and there Ericca caught Tyson
eye’s, and he hers. With a dip of his head Skuppers saluted the new Pirate
King.

“I’m leave you now, Little One. You or Riley, maybe, need
anything,
anything at all
, you come see Skuppers, okay?” With that he
gave each a solid pat on the back and left them.

Tyson stood tall and straight in his black knee-high leather
boots white pants and ruffled white linen shirt underneath a long black
overcoat. For a man pushing thirty, he was handsome and manly and everything Ericca
believed a king should be. To her surprise, upon seeing him again, she felt her
heart pound against her breast bone.

Tyson was conversing with a ship’s captain, someone Ericca
didn’t know. When he concluded with the captain he turned his head to Ericca
and her brother but didn’t move to greet them. He was king now. Prince Tyson would
have met her half way, but protocol dictated King Blachhart await her approach.

Ericca and Archer crossed the room to him, and each dipped
their head. “Ty, you seem—”

He abruptly turned away and went into the king’s study, a
room off the main hall. Errica and Riley followed. The study was a large room with
a bank of windows at one end, and adorned with blood-red silk and satin
curtains. The walls were white, inlaid with gold leaf filigree and trimmed in
dark cherry wood. Ancient paintings and tapestries hung on the wall busy. Two
suits of polished armor at the wall flanked a massive oak desk. On the wall
behind that a shield baring the Blackhart sigil hung above to crossed swords.
He took a seat on the leading edge of his desk to face them. “You are to
address me as ‘Sire’ or ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Grace.’ I have
responsibilities, and I must present an image to my people.”

“Did we catch you at a bad time,
Sire
,” Ericca said acerbically.
“Shall we return at a time more convenient . . .
Your Highness
?”

“There’s never a convenient time, Tawn,” he said. “Riley,
leave us.”

Archer exchanged a look with her and she nodded her okay.
With that, he dipped his head to the king. “By your leave, Your Grace.” With
that he stepped from the room.

Tyson beckoned, Ericca stepped closed, and he gathered her
hands in his. “Why did you leave me?”

Only after a lengthy moment of studying his face, his eyes,
did she, speak. “Your father threatened my life. I had no choice.”

“You should have come to me.”

“I was afraid, for myself, for Archer. I couldn’t risk it.”

“Ericca, I held the rights to you. My father would have
respected my Patent-of-Claim. I hold them still, and I even have the
Bill-of-Sale
to prove it. You should have come to me. I would have protected you.”

“Bill-of-Sale, huh?” She pulled free of his hands and turned
to consider the room. “Patent-of-Claim? What happened to you . . .
Sire
?
Of all the people I’ve ever known, I thought you would be the last to succumb
to these trappings.”

He sighed. “When I became King, all that changed. I have responci—

“Excuse me, Miss Archer,” he said interrupting himself. “The
King need not justify himself to a subject. You’ll guard your tongue or I’ll
have you shackled.”

She spun to him, her ire pricked. “You can try, mister; but
I wouldn’t recommend it.”

His jaw slacked. Then his brows leveled, and his face became
stone. “So Daddy was right. Familiarity does breeds contempt after all. That
you have a private audience with the King means nothing to you?”

“No. Not really.” She considered the room again, its evident
wealth, and began to walk around to touch object of interest.

“Why did you come to me?”

“Money,” Ericca said, glancing back. “What else?”

His eyes shot to her. “How much do you need?”

“No, Ty,” Ericca said, picking up a porcelain figurine to
examine. “Nothing like that. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“If you’re referring to this Prov – Confed battle overhead,
I have men already on it.”

“That . . .
in part
. But do you know where
the Prov fleet is going?”

“Not really.”

She turned to face him. “Well, let me tell you.” But right then
her mind tripped, and nearly went blank. Being near the man, hearing his voice,
touching him and being touched by him made it nearly impossible for her to stay
focused. Nearly. But she jerked her thoughts back to reality.

“I’m listening.”

“They’re on their way to make you tons of money. An inside
word will make the right man rich beyond measure. In your case, just a tad
richer than you already are.”

“Seriously?”

“Picture this. A rebel fleet twenty-two ships strong takes
on a Confed taskforce twice that size. They mix it up a bit. Inject that Prove
flotilla who just passed by here. Once they reach their destination a lot of
ships are going to clash, all at a known time and place. What is that worth to
you?”

“Depends on who winds up on top in the end.”

“What if I were to say it would be you?”

“I’m interested. Keep talking.”

She took a step nearer to lean in close to the pirate king.
“It doesn’t matter who wins this. It doesn’t matter who comes out on top. In
the end they’ll all have beaten each other senseless. Cannons. Shield emitters.
Scanners and communications arrays. Countless torpedoes, rockets, not to
mention slaves. A smart man with enough ships showing up at the right time
could clean up handily.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I want back in. I want a ship of my own.”

“Our own,” corrected Archer from the doorway. He had just
stepped back in, in time to hear only the tail end of the conversation.

“Our own,” Ericca restated. “We want something small, fast,
but big enough to carry
Viper
. Maybe a crewman or two which I’ll
provide, myself. Small payment for what we’re about to give you.”

“Tawn,” Tyson said softly, “you could have had all that for
the asking. Certainly you knew that?”

She sighed. “Sure. All I have to do is marry you.”

He knit his brow. “Would that have been so bad?”

“To be your wife? No. But to be a queen . . .”

“I asked you to marry me. But that was never to make you my
queen. You would be my consort.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her face
swiftly grow hot. “Consort?” Only he was capable of doing this to her. She
looked at Archer. “Can you give us another moment, little brother?”

“Sure. No problem.” Archer turned away and stepped out.

“Ty,” Ericca said turning back to him, “you can have any
woman you want. Why me?”

He shrugged. “Do you want to know the real reason? Or shall
I concoct a lie?”

She chuckled nervously. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Of all the people I know there are only a handful I trust
with my life, and none of them as much as I do you. If we were to marry I know
I wouldn’t end up with a knife in my back; not by your hand anyway.”

Ericca’s heart hadn’t slowed. From the first day they met he
had this effect on her. There was no denying it. And that’s what scared her
most. Unlike his father, King Saundler Blackhart, and despite his chosen
vocation, Tyson was kind, gentle, and caring to everyone. Saundler, his father,
though
, was by far the most vicious man she knew. No one before or since
even came close. He had once said that when it came to pirates it was important
to couple fear with discipline. The few ambitious men who had tried to
overthrow him discovered that fact the hard way. Each and every one of them
wound up impaled on a pike outside the wall and raised high as a warning to
anyone with similar ideas.

“Your consort?” Ericca said, studying his dark brown, nearly
black eyes. “Not your queen?”

He smiled. “As my consort you’d want for nothing. Isn’t that
enough?”

Without saying it, he was saying it. She was good enough to
frolic with, someone to satisfy his manly needs, but in his eyes Ericca wasn’t
Queen material. “Consort?” she said again, feeling the word roll off her
tongue. It tasted bitter.

“Your every desire would be tended to. You’d have your own
honor-guard, and full run of the estate.”

“And the village? Will I be able to see my old friends?”

“You’re not a prisoner, honey. But the Rusty Dragon is still
a rough place. You’ll need your guard with you if you go down there to see
Lilia.”

“I needed the work. They needed their tables bussed. And at
fourteen there was little else I could do. As an employer she wasn’t half bad.”

He chuckled. “Employer? Is that what you think she was?”

“What? Yes, of course.”

“Ericca, she was your owner. I bought you from her for five
crowns. Nine for the pair of you. I thought you knew.”

This came as a complete shock to Ericca. When Lilia had
taken her in, she thought the madam had taken pity on her and Archer. When
Tyson and Scuppers came into the restaurant just as two men were about to rape
her, she thought it was just happenstance. When Tyson took her and her brother
into his home, she saw that as just another kindness. Now she understood. Tyson
was there to make a purchase, his timing nothing more than chance. Back then
she didn’t want to believe in God, not with the load of crap dumped on her, but
seeing all that, even then, in the back of her mind she saw all of this as His
handiwork. To discover that to Lilia, she and Archer were nothing more than a means
to make more money, a product for sale; that bit. Lilia was so sweet to her,
and kind to Archer, Ericca thought she had found a home—
brothel
notwithstanding
—and that she had made a friend. Now, all she wanted to do
was run away all over again. Ericca had believed that even as young as she was,
she was shrewd and tough. To find out she was that naïve changed everything.
She thought she knew better than Jordon Kori. Maybe she knew nothing about
nothing after all.