Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (69 page)

“
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?"

■ ■ ■

"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 their flight suits.

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 simply
enormous
proportions. He could see the two ships approaching through his
cockpit perspex and they were 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
.

■ ■ ■

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. It's
ok
though, 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."

■ ■ ■

"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.

■ ■ ■

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.

■ ■ ■

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..."

■ ■ ■

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.

■ ■ ■

"Conquest
to Flight Leader, progress report."

The
flight leader of the Vulcans thumbed the comm button, "Flight
Leader
to Conquest," he hissed, "why don't you just take out an
ad in the interstellar news and tell
every
one
where we're at?" He released the comm button and shook his
head. What an
idio
t
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 thing. The Vice Admiral was so obsessed with
finding this rogue cruiser he was chasing that 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.

■ ■ ■

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.

■ ■ ■

"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."

■ ■ ■

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 tankers
hull, pranged engine supports and some twisted, floating debris.