Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (66 page)

"Just
a few more minutes, Chief, she's just gotta'..."

"I'm
doing all I can, Jack, she just doesn't
have
any more."

"Hold
on, Chief, just hold on!" The laser fire came in bursts now,
bracketing
above and below the Freedom's hull, as the helmsman did his best to
be unpredictable. Laboring, she began to slow as her remaining
engine began to overheat beyond its capacity to operate. She bucked
hard under a direct hit, then another.

"StErn
shields fifteen-percent..." Raulyas voice cracked. She decided
she
preferred
hand to hand combat.

The
front moved faster toward them than they did to it. They were so
close,
Jack felt like he could reach out and touch it. "Just a little
farther, baby..." whispered Jack. The deck shook hard under his
seat, and the ship lurched sideways under a secondary explosion.

"Shields
down!” yelled Raulya.

"We're
still under power though," stated the Professor.

Jack
punched the comm button. "What
was
that, Chief?"

"The
rest of Number One just took a direct. It's completely gone. You
got
five minutes left, tops, on Number Three." The connection
beeped off.

"We're
in! We're in!"

Jack
looked up from his console as the nose penetrated the forward
veils
of the storm. "Quixetta, hard to port and nose down on my
command." This had to be timed just right. "Stern turrets,
are you still at stations?" He received confirmation that they
were. "Evacuate. All but one, I need a volunteer as a spotter."
He needed someone to tell him when they were solidly enveloped,
otherwise the maneuver might not work.

"They're
closing in." said Raulya. "They don't want to lose us."

"Don't
recharge," advised Jack, "but let the main turrets fire
when
they're
in range." She nodded and relayed the message to the gunners.

"I've
got ten-percent back on stern shields."

"Good."
Jack rubbed his hands together nervously. "We just might make
it
yet."

"Fire!"
yelled Raulya. The bridge crew could hear the distinct
zzwuump,
zzwuump
of the main gun batteries on either side of the hull as they
returned fire, vibrating the floor.

"Captain!"
Startled, Jack looked up from his plot screen showing the
fading
positions of the three ships. Emerging from the squall line of the
storm, was the bow of a huge carrier, so close, Jack figured he
could heave a stone as far. "It's UFW!" shouted Ragnaar.
The logo on the hull was enormous.

"Hard
to starboard!" ordered Jack. The ships would pass port to port.

"Their
weapons are on line!" breathed Raulya. "Their shields are
up!"

"We're
sunk..." muttered the Professor.

Paul,
Mike and Brian, stood
speechless
at its awesome size. It literally bristled with guns.

"How
did they know?" asked Ensign Quixetta.

"They
didn't..." To Jack, it was more a gut feeling than really
knowing.
"Stacell, open a channel quick!" A moment later the face
of a grizzled old officer, appeared on the screen, the picture
broken and distorted from the storm's interference. Jack couldn't
see the Vice Admiral's rank pips.

"This
is the Conquest, what can I do for you, Captain?"

"Pirates!"
shouted Jack, feigning terror. Actually he was closer
to
desperation, but it made for great inspiration. "Right behind
us... Help us! Please, we're heavily damaged..."

"Easy,
Captain, what are their coordinates?" Jack read off the
coordinates
for the two cruisers, and the Vice Admiral could hear the
zzwuump,
zzwuump
of the Freedom's gun batteries in the background. "What kind of
ship are you?"

Jack
wanted to avoid that question. "Hurry,
please
,"
he pleaded,
"our
shields are down. One more hit and we're done for..!"

The
Vice Admiral paused for a moment, trying to see
Jack's
face on his own screen through the distortion. He made his decision.
He half turned toward his crew, "Battle stations" he said
casually. The screen went blank.

"Cease
fire!"
instructed Jack. "Helm, swing to port and cross behind
the
carrier as we pass. Then straight again. We'll keep her between us
and the cruisers." Steele took a deep breath as the carrier's
guns flashed, throwing green and red streaks past the Freedom,
making the nebulous clouds of ether glow around them. "Sorry
Kelarez," he said under his breath, "maybe some other
time." He blinked hard and looked up but there was nothing left
to see on his monitor. The storm obscured all. "Helm, drop to
half power."

"Sir?"
Ensign Quixetta turned in his seat. "We're adrift, I just lost
all
power."

"Shit."
Jack fingered the comm button, "Chief?"

"Sorry
Captain," came the reply, "that's all she wrote..."

"Dammit.
Ok. Quixetta, power up the thrusters, we need to put some
distance
between us." Jack hoped there would be enough confusion between
the carrier and the cruisers that it would allow the Freedom to slip
away before they could regroup and set up a search pattern. He
watched the Ensign make the course adjustments and start the
thrusters, but in the drifting, swirling clouds, the ship's movement
was undetectable.

Static
lightning flashed through the murk, and Jack turned his
attention
back to the comm. "Chief, you've got your work cut out for you.
Use whatever parts you've got and see if you can bring one of those
engines up. In about ten to twelve hours, we'll shut down and drift
until we can get that other generator on line too. We might as well
use this storm as cover..."

"Right."
Trigoss paused. "Y'know I could really use some help down
here,
some good, strong backs."

"You
got it, Chief." Jack keyed off. He stood up and ran his fingers
through
his hair as the tension begin to ebb. He took a deep cleansing
breath. Thanks to God and a well placed storm, he'd managed it
again.

Lightning
flashed again and Jack narrowed his eyes at the momentary
shapes
in the swirling mass. Then nothing. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
He should let everyone stand down. Ragnaar had said these storms
could last for hours. Even days. "Raula," Steele began,
"relieve..."

There
was a flash like lightning and a jolt that sent him sprawling
onto
the floor of the command pit. "Stern shields are down!" He
could hear Raulya saying.

"Thrusters
off line..." said another voice. Jack struggled to his
knees,
his world was red. Holding the back of Ragnaar's seat he tried to
regain his footing against the moving deck, but the peal of the bell
in his head matched the pain above his left eye, where the skin
puckered and the blood ran freely. He did not hear the clamor that
surrounded him, his world dissolved into a dull, fuzzy grayness.

UFW
LIBERATOR CLASS CRUISER, ARCHER: CALO ALTO SYSTEM

"Captain,
we've struck something!"

Kelarez
raised an eyebrow. "No, really?" He waved his hand
angrily,
"How
about telling me something useful... like a
damage
report
!"

"Starboard
engine nacelle crushed," stated the engineer, saving
the
navigator from further rebuff. "That engine is off line."

"Get
it back," growled Kelarez.

"Sorry,
Captain," continued his First Engineer, "nothing we can do
out
here,
it'll have to wait till we get back to base. It's an exterior repair
requiring dock and gantry."

The
UFW Commander slid back in his chair and silently cursed the
Vice
Admiral in the UFW carrier for ordering his ship into the storm.
"Take us out of this soup, Mr. Hanett."

"Yes,
Sir!" The Ensign was as glad as anyone to be leaving the storm.

There
was no way of telling what it was that they'd struck. The
carrier,
debris, Steele's ship... And at this point, what did it matter?
Kelarez knew of only one instance of a ship being successfully
tracked through an ether storm like this. The UFW destroyer had
emerged in pirate territory, chasing his pirate quarry straight into
a pirate fleet. The destroyer and its crew narrowly escaped, only by
going back the way it came... into the storm.

The
images of that armada flashed through Kelarez's mind. Almost
lost
my ass on that one, he reflected.

"Get
your cruisers back in there, Captain! Find that bastard!" The
Vice
Admiral's lined face scowled at Kelarez from the view screen.
"Nobody plays me for a fool!"

Of
course not,
you
fat moron,
thought Kelarez. "I'm sorry, sir, but
between
the damage you inflicted on us and damage from the collision, we
must return to base for repairs." His voice was even and
respectful, but his eyes spoke volumes of animosity for the man. The
Vice Admiral was not a field commander, just a desk potato looking
for a field service bar and a promotion before retirement. Vince
Kelarez turned to his communications officer. "Ms. Notsobe,
send a message to the Bowman, fall in, we're returning to base."

"You
are a coward, Kelarek," spat the Vice Admiral, "I will see
you
court-martialed!
I'll have your pips in my hand! I'll see that you lose your
command!" He paused his tirade and turned away. "Tell the
Bowman to get back here! Where's it going?!"

"Vice
Admiral," interrupted Kelarez, "the Bowman is under my
command and
will
only follow my orders. So I suggest if you want Steele's ship you'd
better go in and get it yourself." He adjusted his tunic. "And
if you're going to court-martial me, you'd better get my name right.
It's
KELAREZ
,
not Kelarek." He turned to his comm officer and drew a line
across his throat with his thumb. She ended the vidcom connection.
"Navigation," he said, turning back. "Plot a course
for Yarwa Station. Helm, take us there." Kelarez took a deep
breath and relaxed as the Bowman pulled into cruising formation. The
Captain was not a coward, not by a long shot. He just knew that
sometimes discretion was the better part of valor.

"Think
he'll catch Steele?" asked the navigator as they watched the
carrier
disappear back into the ether storm.

"No,"
said Kelarez, "the Vice Admiral couldn't hope to catch a cold,
standing
naked on an ice planet in the middle of winter. Besides, Steele has
too much luck."
He's
good too,
he thought.