Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (41 page)

FREEDOM:
BUBBLEGUM
& PAPERCLIPS

It
had been two weeks since the capture of the pirate cruiser, and
it
was just now beginning to show some resemblance of organization.
Jack and Paul stood alone on the bridge and surveyed the system
changes. "We've got a long way to go, Jack. These guys beat the
piss out of this poor ship, and the repairs they
did
make, were totally half-assed."

Jack
sunk into the command chair. "I can't believe these people
were
such slobs... I mean the filth, the garbage, what a pigsty!"

Paul
stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head. "It's a
wonder
this thing could operate at all. Half the systems were totally
inoperative."

Jack
smiled, "No wonder they had to send the fighters to chase
down
the Princess Hedonist. This tub would've had a hard time catching a
cold..."

"Now,
now," joked Paul, waving his finger like somebody’s
mother,
"that's
no way to talk about the
Freedom
."
They had all agreed the new name was appropriate.

"We
should've called it the
Ball
and Chain
,"
retorted Jack, with a
grin.
Sometimes it felt like the repairs would take forever.

Ragnaar
strolled through the open doorway onto the bridge and
saluted
the two officers. He wore the same uniform as Jack and Paul. "Yes,
Lieutenant?" asked Paul.

"Just
wanted to let you know, Commander," began the former pirate,
"the
ship-wide
communications net should be finished before the end of the day."
Paul nodded his approval, he was getting tired of using messengers
for everything.

"What
about the automatic door system?" asked Jack.

Ragnaar
shook his head. "Still got some bugs left, Captain. Could
be
another day or two." He rubbed his forehead. "We're not
sure if it's hardware or software failures yet."

Jack
slouched in his seat and bowed his head. "Geez, how come this
stuff
was never corrected before?"

Ragnaar
shrugged massive shoulders. "I guess Captain Kidd didn't
think
it was important enough sir. Besides, he wasn't a man you could say
much to either. I saw him kill a man at dinner once, for spilling
the Captain's drink."

"You're
kidding!" said Paul.

"No,
sir."

Jack
sat up properly. "Brother, what a psychopath. Well, Lieutenant,
from
now
on, there'll be no killing at the dinner table."

Ragnaar
smiled, "The crew will be glad to hear that sir." He
saluted
and
left the bridge.

"I
kinda like him," said Jack.

"I
knew you would," said Paul, "the whole bunch are good
people. Makes
you
wonder what they were doing with Kidd."

"Shanghaied
probably," guessed Jack.

About
twenty five crew members had
followed
Ragnaar's example and volunteered to serve under Jack Steele's
leadership. Their services proved extremely valuable, as most were
skilled workers and technicians who knew the ship well. They were
finally encouraged to work on a ship they'd been forced to neglect
in the past, and they worked in earnest.

Brian,
dressed in dirty coveralls and covered in grease, strolled
onto
the bridge. "Hey! Guess what?" He didn't wait for an
answer. "Launch tube two is fixed! It's working like a charm.
Wanna' see?"

"Sure,"
chimed the two men. They needed to go down to the landing bay
and
check the Warthog fighters anyway.

As
they walked down the corridor, they passed the ship's servants in
the
process of cleaning up two years of neglect. The porters, most of
them women, spent their years aboard the cruiser as slaves and
concubines for the crew. Unpaid, unwashed and malnourished, only the
youngest and most attractive, received any care at all. Handed down
from the officers to the lower ranks of the crew when discarded like
old clothes, their fate was ultimately the same. Neglect and ill
health. When the ship was captured, they were all released and given
their freedom. Paid work with guaranteed care, as porters, maids and
cooks, was made available on the ship for any who desired it. It was
surprising to see how many of the women returned.

As
the men approached a woman scrubbing the wall padding, she paused
her
chores and greeted them politely. They returned the greeting and
walked on. "Y'know," said Jack, after they'd passed, "it's
amazing what you can accomplish with a little respect." Most of
the corridors had been cleaned and scrubbed to near perfection. The
wall padding, which reached from about knee height to about shoulder
height, went from shades of dirty gray, back to white, an incredible
transformation. Even the carpeting came clean, changing from a muddy
gray to a nice, light, blue-gray. Much to everyone’s surprise,
the ship was actually becoming livable.

As
the three men passed through one of the automatic doors which
segmented
the corridors for safety, the door slid back and forth
spasmodically, the system lights lighting simultaneously. "Can't
believe these were left inoperable," grumbled Brian. "What
an idiot." And he was right. The doors were meant to seal off
segments of the corridors in an emergency, atmosphere contamination,
fire, a hull breach, even protection against hostile boarding
parties. The system lights next to the door would advise how severe
the hazard was on the other side and how limited the access. Leaving
the doors inoperative was inviting disaster. "Who's working on
them?" asked Brian, indicating the epileptic door.

"Can't
think of his name," said Paul scratching his head. "Tall,
skinny
guy, dark skin, glasses..."

Brian
nodded, "Yeah, I know who that is. But I can't think of his
name
either."

They
stopped at the elevator and Jack pushed the button. "That's
terrible,
we've got to get to know these people better." He hated
forgetting names. To him, it was like saying that person was not
worth remembering.

"Don't
worry," said Paul as the trio stepped onto the elevator. "We
will.
It takes a little time."

The
ship was divided into four main levels, the fifth only extended
about
half the length of the ship at the belly, it was strictly for cargo.
The elevator took them from level one, where the bridge was, to
level four. Level four held pilot's on-call quarters, flight
briefing, ready rooms, flight and landing bay, launch chutes,
hangars, and everything else that went along with flight operations,
including maintenance and repair.

While
not the same size as the mind boggling dimensions of the
Princess's
bay, the Freedom's bay was sizable at just short of three football
fields long and a little over one wide. Bright orange sodium
floodlights lit up the common areas of the landing bay, with a
greater concentration of white floods and spotlights in the hangars
along the outer walls, to illuminate the mechanics shops and the
parked fighters. The only place dimly lit was the prep and launch
area which had red lighting to prepare the pilots' eyes for the
darkness of space.

After
Brian displayed his handy work, the three pilots strolled the
empty
flight deck and hangars. They stopped in front of a work shuttle and
watched the mechanics tinker. "All this room," began Paul,
"and all we got is four lousy fighters..." He kicked at an
invisible pebble on the deck.

"Five,"
interrupted Brian, pointing at another under a tarp.

"It
don't fly," blurted the mechanic, who didn't bother to stop
tinkering,
his head and arms buried in an open access panel at the front of the
shuttle.

"So
fix it."

"Piece'a
junk," countered the mechanic. "In fact, don't think it
ever
flew.
Use it for parts though."

Jack
walked over and lifted the tarp, the fighter was full of blast
holes.
Its canopy was missing and it sat on an anti-grav cargo palette
because its landing gear had been torn off. "Whoever used it
last, didn't take very good care of it..."

"It
used to be Kidd's," said a passing crewman. "He was a
lousy
pilot."
Everyone had a decent chuckle, even the mechanic, who was pretending
not to listen. It was obvious, Kidd wasn't popular, even with his
own crew.

"Captain!"

Jack
turned on his heel. "Trigoss! I was just thinking about going
to
look for you. How's the outer hull coming along?" Using plate
steel that had been found in a dark corner of the Freedom's cargo
bay, the engineers of the Princess Hedonist had been making
structural repairs on the old battle damage of the aging cruiser.

Trigoss
waited until he got closer. "Not bad, Jack. Not bad at all.
We
should have it finished in about a week. And with material to
spare."

"Wow,
that's great!" Jack paused. "Look, are you sure Gant
doesn't
mind
you guys giving us all this help? I don't want to get you guys in
hot water."

The
burly engineer dismissed the thought with a wave of a ham-sized
hand,
"Not a bit. In fact, he's kind of tickled. Besides, we're all
doing it on our off duty hours." Trigoss shifted and lowered
his voice. "Listen, Jack, I've been thinking. The Princess
doesn't really need me. They've got a whole slew of good engineers.
I'm usually bored to tears, nothing challenging. Y'know..?"

It
suddenly dawned on Jack that the man was thinking about giving up
his
career to join the crew of the Freedom. "Wait a minute T, I
can't ask you to..."

"Look,
Jack," interrupted the engineer. "I got no family ties...
I'm
bored
silly here, and besides I've got the experience. You need a good...
no, scratch that. You need an excellent engineer to hold this tin
can together. You find me a decent bone yard and we just might be
able to scrounge enough parts to make this wreck worth something."

"What
about stability, your pension..."

"Who
needs it," said Trigoss shrugging his shoulders. "I've
been a
military
brat all my life. I gave them thirty years, then they dumped me for
mandatory retirement." He paused as if he was rechecking the
dates in his mind. "And, do you know I've been waiting almost
ten years to give those lousy pirates the kind of bloody nose you
gave them in one damn evening? Hell, Jack, you're a natural. But it
won't do any good if your ship disintegrates beneath your feet.
Besides," he added, smirking, "I want to be around when
you do it again."

"Ok,
Ok," conceded Jack, holding up his hands, “I surrender
already,
you've
got the job. Chief Engineer, ok?"

"Thanks!"
With a wave, he bounded off in the direction he came.

"Geez!"
exclaimed Brian, "you'd think you just gave the guy a couple
million
bucks or something." Jack was speechless and Paul just shook
his head.

"Anybody
feel like eating? I'm starved!"

The
three startled pilots turned around to face the familiar voice
and
saw Mike striding towards them in full uniform. "Mike!"
they exclaimed in unison. "How'ya doin'? How'ya feeling?"
The questions came in a verbal torrent.

Mike
backed up, his hands in front of him. "Easy fellas, no hugs if
you
don’t mind. Doc says I can come out and play, but no rough
stuff." The four men laughed and it felt good. "Say,
where's Derrik? I'm supposed to tell him the Professor gets out
tomorrow."