Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (58 page)

The
first volley of missiles had dropped the carriers forward
shields.
The second, detonated against exposed plating and the open launch
tubes, destroying the unprotected fighters being launched. Brilliant
flashes, one after another in rapid succession, danced across the
front of the carrier. The newly-launched Fallkens, consumed in the
explosions, added their own fury to the force. Giant fireballs
jumped from three of the four launch tubes. The carrier's nose was
left a mass of burnt, twisted metal.

Secondary
explosions ripped through the ship's forward torpedo
bays,
belching short-lived balls of flame into space. Jack was out of
range of the destroyer's guns and throttled back, looking over his
shoulder at the carrier. "Leader One to all birds... back to
base." Jack searched the space behind him for Warthogs but
could only see one. The destroyer was still firing at something
between it and the carrier... "All Freedom's fighters back to
base..." urged Jack, looking at his watch. They were running
out of time. A heartbeat later, a blackened Warthog under full boost
emerged from between the two ships. It made a straight-line, all-out
run, for the safety of distance.

“
Mayday!
Mayday! This is Pappy, I'm in trouble. Mayday! Mayday!"

Jack
made a tight right hand bank, shouting, "Cover fire! Cover
fire!"
Jack locked onto the destroyer and thumbed two missiles. Mike looped
back hard and, sighting upside down on the destroyer, fired his last
two missiles. Dense laser fire reached out toward the two pilots who
had turned back to protect their friend. "Break! Break!"
They swung outwards, away from each other. Heavy streaks of red and
green passed between them.

"Mayday!
Mayday! I can't hold her together..."

"Eject,
Pappy! Eject!" shouted Jack. He searched the sky to his right
to
pinpoint Paul's craft. "Where is he?" asked Mike.

Jack
was about to answer when a brilliant flash made him jump in his
seat.
A small sphere of debris expanded silently outwards. Jack suddenly
felt drained, he let his body go limp, letting the Lancia fly
itself. No one spoke for some time. "Pappy..." muttered
Mike. Jack's eyes burned.

The
other fighters had vectored to the retreating Freedom as ordered,
only
Mike and Jack remained. The carrier motionless, the destroyer
damaged enough to deter pursuit, only the cruiser remained
untouched. But its Captain had chosen to remain with the carrier.

"I'm
on bingo fuel, Skipper," mumbled Mike.

They
had won the fight, but Jack felt like he had lost something
greater...
a part of himself. "We'd better head back," said Jack
quietly.

"Shuttle
One to Leader One..."

"This
is Leader One," answered Jack lethargically, edging the
throttle
forward.

"We're
picking up a beacon off your starboard bow."

Jack
throttled back and glanced down at his scope. There was a green
blip
with a blinking green ring around it, signifying a distress beacon.
He looked up. It was right about where Paul's fighter disappeared.
"I see it too..."

"Roger,"
answered the shuttle. "Then we're moving in, to intercept
and
recover."

Jack
saw a green blip appear as the shuttle emerged from the edge of
the
debris field surrounding the Velorian freighter. "How long have
you been out here, shuttle?"

"Just
got here," lied the pilot.

"Uh,
huh," agreed Jack, unconvinced. Jack turned to Mike, he could
see
him across the forty or fifty feet of space between their cockpits.
"Head back Mike, I'll hang with the shuttle."

Jack
could see Mike shaking his head. "No way," he objected.
"If
that's
Pappy out there, I'm stayin'."

Jack
was worried Mike would run out of fuel. "Boogie Lieutenant,
that's
an
order
."

"Yes,
sir
!"
The reply was curt, if not downright contemptible. Jack
ignored
it. He knew how Mike felt. In fact, he was cutting it pretty slim
too. He watched the Warthog accelerate away and swung the Lancia's
nose toward the emergency beacon.

BAHIA,
TWO SECTORS FROM DEBRIS FIELD:
RESCUE
& RECOVERY

Derrik
glanced over his left shoulder through the cockpit perspex at
his
port engine. The forcing cone gone, large sections of plating and
cowling missing, it drooled long strings and gobbets of gooey foam.
It was messy, but he was still alive. Had he shut down the engine
before
blowing the canister of fire foam, the back feed of fuel would have
pulled the burner flame into the fuel tank. Instead, it pulled in
the thick, gooey substance, sealing the fuel line.

Funny,
he thought, that was the same side that his Harrier got hit
on
in the Falklands. Though this time, he had not been injured. He said
a private thanks.

Derrik
refocused his attention on the Freedom's bay as he neared
its
stern. The Freedom had slowed to recover fighters, but she had put a
good distance between her and the pirates. Derrik flipped the
switches for gear and anti-grav. He was surprised when the
indicators showed both systems operative and responsive. Even the
braking jets were still working properly. He breathed easier. The
runway lights illuminated, clearing his final approach. Two nets
hung before the tower in case he developed problems... he hoped he
wouldn't need them. Walrick, who had escorted him back, had landed
first.

The
damaged Warthog passed through the stasis field and touched
down
nicely, splashing huge blobs of gooey foam all over the deck. "Sorry
about the mess, tower. Had a bit of a row with the neighbors."
He fired braking jets and more foam slopped and gushed, making a
gooey trail down the runway. As he taxied toward the Warthog's
parking revetment, he popped the canopy and pulled off his helmet,
laying it in his lap. The rush of air felt more than just good.
"Ahh, home sweet home..."

■ ■ ■

Professor
Edgars was afraid if he went too much further, the
fighters
would run out of fuel before they reached the Freedom. "All
stop, helm."

"Yes,
sir."

"Tower,
how many craft are unaccounted for yet?"

After
a quick count, the tower replied. "Well, sir, Lieutenant Carter
is
on final approach, so that leaves two Warthogs, one Lancia and
shuttle number one."

"What
the hell is a shuttle doing out there? Who took it out?"

"Ensigns
Myomerr and Arroyo," replied the tower.

Walt
slammed his hand down on the console. "Arroyo's supposed to be
in
sick bay, dammit!" He rubbed his forehead. "Tower, prep
two Lancias and put them in the tubes. Tell Walrick and Carter
they're on standby, those stragglers might need some protection."
The tower acknowledged. "Helm," he continued, "bring
us around, then full stop. Raulya, drop shields. Transfer power and
recharge all guns."

Brian
touched down and a lineman directed him to taxi directly to a
prep
skirt in front of the tower. After a quick inspection and finding no
damage, a ground crew swarmed around the Lancia and began to refuel
and rearm it. Brian laid his helmet on the dash as a Crew Chief
climbed the ladder. "What's going on Chief?" The pilot
pulled off his gloves.

"You're
on standby," he began, "until the others return." He
started
unbuckling
Brian's harness.

"Should
I stay in the cockpit?"

“
Nah.
Just don't wander off, Lieutenant."

As
soon as it was finished, Brian's Lancia was moved back into the
launch
tube.

Mike
was so low on fuel when he landed, that when he fired braking
jets
as he entered the bay, they fizzled out mid-burst. He quickly
flipped off the anti-grav and the Warthog dropped to the deck with a
thud, screeching down the runway on its skid plates. It came to a
stop with its nose, just inches from the safety nets before the
tower. Mike pulled the lever, popping the canopy, "Man, what a
landing," he announced. "Am I fucking good, or what?!"
The lineman, climbing the boarding ladder, pointed out the burn
marks and blast holes in the Warthog's left wing without saying a
word. Mike's eyes widened, then narrowed. "I said I was good,"
his voice was more humble now, "not perfe
ct."
He sat quietly and let the crewman unbuckle his harness, standing on
the seat and stretching after he was finished. "Boy, almost
three hours in that cockpit..." He dropped his helmet over the
side to the crewman on the deck.

Derrik
and Brian approached from the pilot's ready-lounge at the base
of
the tower on the other side of the grab net. "Where's Paul?
What happened out there?" called Derrik.

Mike
had turned around to descend the ladder. "Haven't you heard
from
them yet?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.

"We're
on radio silence," said Brian, clinging to the grab net. The
two
pilots looked like people watching a softball game through a mesh
fence.

"Damn..."
said Mike, stepping to the deck. He walked to the net
shaking
his head, "I'm not sure exactly what happened, we got
separated." Brian and Derrik pulled up on the net, lifting the
bottom edge off the floor. Mike ducked underneath to their side. "We
split to evade some inbound stuff," he began, walking with them
back to the lounge. "The next thing I know, I got two bandits
on my tail and I can't shake `em. All of a sudden, two of those new
birds," he points to a Lancia, "come out of nowhere..."

Brian
was nodding, "That was me and Jack..."

Derrik
was nodding too. "Don't feel bad, same thing happened to
me."
He pointed to his Warthog sitting in its revetment. "That's
mine."

Mike
made a face like he'd swallowed bad medicine. "What's all that
white
shit?"

"Fire
foam."

"Geez,
what a mess," sympathized Mike. "So," he said,
changing the
subject,
"did you get him?" He was looking at Brian.

"Yeah,
sort of. I had to chase him clear round the other side of that
floating
junkyard out there. I took his shields down, so he tries to shake me
by taking a left into the debris...
smack!"
Brian clapped his hands together. "He crashes right into a huge
piece of scrap." He shook his head. "What an idiot... end
of story, film at eleven." He shrugged.

They
entered the lounge and threw themselves on the loungers,
stretching
out. No one spoke for awhile. "Do you think he made it?"
asked Derrik. It was a disjointed question but they all knew he was
talking about Pappy.

Mike
shook his head slowly, he had been trying not to think about
it.
"I don't know... I hope so." He fidgeted. "There
was
a beacon."

"That's
a good sign," said Brian. "Right?" He looked at
Derrik.

"Could
have been automatic..."

"Maybe..."

"Think
so?"

It
grew quiet again. Until the announcement from the tower, "Craft
on
final approach, recovery crews stand by." The three pilots
jumped to their feet and ran for the door. They didn't stop until
they reached the net. Mike's Warthog had been moved and the runway
was clear. They waited. "Well?" said Brian. He tapped his
foot in mock anticipation, trying to disguise his concern.

Barely
visible outside the bay, Jack's Lancia suddenly popped into
view
as it slowly passed through the blue veil of the stasis field. The
fighter moved lethargically as it touched down, moving down the
runway as if it was in slow motion. "What's he doing?"
asked Mike. No one had a clue. His canopy popped open and rose
quietly as he neared the safety net and swung off, taxiing to the
skirt where the Lancia coasted to a stop of its own volition. The
three pilots exchanged confused glances as Jack descended the ladder
from his cockpit.
Where
was the shuttle?

With
a loud whoosh, the shuttle passed through the stasis field
at
a speed more normal to landing spacecraft. It braked hard and
touched down halfway to the tower, coasting to the net before
stopping. Jack walked to its side entrance and waited for the hatch
to open.

"Is
Pappy Ok?!" shouted Mike. Jack cupped his hand around his ear
to
show
he couldn't hear Mike, who was becoming visibly more anxious. The
three pilots lifted up on the net and scooted underneath as the
shuttle's hatch and ramp opened. "I
said
,"
yelled Mike, trotting over to where Jack stood, "is Pappy
alright?" Jack looked sullen or tired, Mike couldn't tell
which.

"I'm
fine kid..." Paul stood in the shuttle's doorway, grinning from
ear
to ear, his helmet dangling from his left hand. He strolled casually
down the ramp.

Mike
met him halfway and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Man, am I
glad
to see
you!
I thought you were a gonner..."

"So
did I. In fact, I almost was..." Jack slapped him on the back
as
he
reached the bottom of the ramp. There was a round of handshaking and
backslapping as the five pilots released the tension of uncertainty
and gave private thanks for getting their friends back in one piece.

"What
about me?" Maria descended the ramp, her arm linked with
Myomerr's
arm for support. Paul turned around and, with arms opened wide,
hugged them both. "
Why
did you wait so long to eject?"

"Well,"
said Paul stepping back. He suddenly had a full audience. "I
couldn't
punch out too close, I woulda' been toast. I had to wait till I got
clear. I figured if I timed it right, they'd think I went up with my
bird and wouldn't come looking for me. I had to hope y'all would
find me first." He hugged Maria and kissed Myomerr full on the
lips. "Good eyes kids."

"
You!
"
said Jack, pointing at Maria, "should be in bed."

"I
can fly, I just can't stand. Besides, I couldn't let her go out
alone,
you need at least two for recoveries." She wiped the sweat off
her forehead. "If we hadn't been out there, Paul would still be
out there." She pointed at Myomerr, "We were the only two
who were
free
to go... everyone else was at battle stations."

Jack
smiled and scooped her up because she was beginning to wobble.
"Well
you did a fine job. Now it's back to bed with you." The group
moved off the runway together and headed for the ready room to
remove their flight suits. "Chief!" shouted Jack, still
carrying Maria.

The
mechanic stopped his work on the shuttle. "Yeah?"

"Close
up the bay and the tubes. Call a stand down, we're done for
the
day."

"What
about that cruiser out there?" asked Derrik.

Paul
shook his head. "Gone."

"Where'd
it go?"

"To
that big cruiser Heaven in the sky," he said, waving his arms
expansively,
his helmet still in his left hand.

Mike's
eyes narrowed, "Huh?"

They
all started walking again. "Wait'll I tell you this,"
joked
Paul,
"this is gonna' kill you..."

■ ■ ■

Paul
kept them in suspense until they had all cleaned up. Jack had
checked
in with the bridge and now they were all seated together on the
floor of Maria's suite. LaNareef, feeling stronger now, was there
with Walrick. Alité was there with Jack, Myomerr with Paul,
Seeta with Brian and Mike was with a cute little porter named Tilee.
Jack was surprised, he had no idea Mike was seeing someone. Food and
wine had been provided by Marna's culinary wizardry.