Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (32 page)

Steele twisted around in his harness, taking in the enormity of the vast canvas of color and flecks of white spread across the expanse of the system like some heavenly abstract painting. He inhaled deeply without realizing it, the same autonomous response one reflexively does when stepping outside after a rain. Cruising slowly, Red flight got an update from the bridge of the Freedom while the members of Yellow Flight formed up behind them and Lt. Commander Derrik Brighton's, White Flight was readied and held on standby, prepared to launch.

Ensign Duncan Taylor keyed his mic, “Yellow One, Red One, we've got your six, boss...”

■ ■ ■

Mike watched as the ships got closer, the right screen showing scan data, listing speeds, headings, estimated mass and approximate shapes. “Still no idents on any of them, they're not broadcasting a ping.”

Brian nodded inside his helmet. “And with all this crap around us, Christ, it's like sitting in a cloud made of gravel. I'm not even getting a schematic. I'd really like to know what type of ships we're dealing with.”

“What about a short ping?” asked one of the younger pilots. “See if they respond or ping back?”

“
Think they'll pick us up?” asked Brian.

“
I'm surprised they haven't picked us up
already
... maybe this ferrous stone is protecting us.”

“
According to my calculations, Lieutenant,” began one of the younger pilots, “the fact that we have our weapons, shields, engines and ident systems off, reduces our recognizable scan profile by at least eighty percent. With our current surroundings, I'd have to estimate we are nearly invisible.”

Mike eyed the identification sequencer next to the comm system. It was common to patrol in hostile territory with the broadcast off to reduce the sensor signature. “OK, braniac, how long can I send a ping without giving up our location?”

“If the sound jockey is good, fifteen seconds he'll have a direction. Thirty seconds he'll have an area, he'll pinpoint you in forty-five or less.”

“
Good to know...” Mike reached out and pressed the momentary ping button, holding it for five seconds, sending out a short UFW ident signal.

■ ■ ■

“Admiral, I just picked up a five-second ident signal.”

“
Whose?”

“
UFW, sir.”

“
Direction?”

“
No, sir. It was too short to get a signal lock or even a direction.” The Petty Officer listened carefully, her eyes closed, sweeping her sensor beacon in all directions for signals. “Got it again, same thing, sir. I think they're prompting us for a reply.”

“
Direction?”

She shook her head, “No, sir. Too short. I'd say he's doing on purpose, he doesn't want to reveal his location.”

The Admiral calmly turned to his left, “Take us to yellow alert.”

“
Aye, sir.”

He checked the status screen on his command chair. “We've got twelve birds out?”

“Aye, sir. Raefer Flight is out.”

“
Let's go ahead and launch another flight.”

“
Aye, sir.” The FTLO
Flight Tower Liaison Officer
keyed his mic, “Launch Grendel Flight.”

“
Thank you, Mr. Singh,” commented the Admiral casually. “Let's ready another flight.”

■ ■ ■

“Ohh, that's not good...”

Mike instinctively looked out over at Brian's Cyclone, a half ton of gravel and rock floating between them. “What's not good?”

Brian was studying the zoomed image of the blobs they were tracking on his right screen. “I think it's a carrier, I just saw about twelve more dots appear... all at once.”

“
Are you shitting me?”

“
Nope, no shit.”

“
Holy crap, it just keeps getting better...”

“
You could just say it's craptastic, then, huh?”

Mike sighed, “You could, if you wanted to irritate the hell outta me...”

“Well, we could say,” started Brian, “that this whole discussion just went down the
shitter..
.”

Mike pursed his lips, “Seriously. Stop it. Or I swear to God, I'll shoot your bird.”

“I love you too...” snickered Brian, shifting his eyes back to the right screen.

Mike reached forward and pinged the ident one more time. “You're closest to the edge; can you nose out and see if you can pick up a ship type?”

“Copy,” replied Brian. He rotated the selector on his throttle for thrusters only and nudged it forward, creeping through the cloud of rock and gravel, creating a sound like hail that made him cringe. As he neared the edge he zeroed the throttle and coasted to a stop, watching the sensor screen calculate the information. It drew a schematic outline without any description data. “Dammit,” he hissed, flipping through the other sensor types, letting each one make a full sweep before returning to LIDAR, providing him the best results. “No description, but I get a line scheme.” He flipped from one target to the other. “Looks like - my best guess, a carrier and a battleship. I'm counting twenty-four dots that I'm assuming are fighters.”

Mike didn't like the sound of that. And he didn't like the chatter between the two younger pilots breaking his concentration. “Button it up, guys.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant. Question?”

“
Go ahead.”

“
Lieutenant Carter, can you tell where the bridge structure is on the one that looks like a carrier?”

Brian tapped the buttons on the CMFD and chose the larger of the two forms. “If I'm seeing this right, the bow has a wide notch in it and the bridge would be centered, on the rear one-third of the upper structure...”

“Lieutenant Warren, I believe that it's an Oijin Class carrier, an older design - nearly a hundred years old. But she'll hold over seventy fighters and support craft...”

Mike let out a low whistle.

■ ■ ■

“
Admiral, we're getting another ping, sir.”

The Admiral didn't look up from his command screens. “Stay dark.” He looked over toward the tactical stations. “Anything on scans?”

“Negative, sir. And we're fully extended.”

“
Find them!
” The Admiral looked to his left, “What do you think Captain?”

“
Could be an auto beacon, sir. I don't like it.”

“
They could also be eyes-on,” added the Admiral. “Though I don't know from where, there's nothing out here. But if that's the case, let's give them something to see. Let's launch another flight.”

“
Aye, sir. Shall we go to red alert?”

“
Let's hold off on that,” replied the Admiral, “I think we're OK at yellow.”

■ ■ ■

“Freedom to Red Two.”

Jack recognized Walt's voice. “Red Two, go ahead Commander.”

“Captain, we've gotten an update from Blue Flight...”

“
Don't be shy, Commander. Spit it out.”

“
They've defined two ships, a battle ship and what they believe is an Oijin Class carrier. If they're correct on the ID, the carrier is an older design but quite capable. She'll carry over seventy fighters and support craft. Currently, Blue Flight counts thirty-six bogies escorting the pair...”

Whoa
. Steele flashed back to the size of the carrier they ran into in the Calo Alto system when they were searching for the salvage field at Geo Zee. Reaching through his open visor he pinched the bridge of his nose with gloved fingers, his mind racing ahead. “Alright... Freedom Squadron, all stop.” He pulled his throttle back to zero, coasting. “Freedom, launch White Flight, have them rendezvous with us.”

“
Copy, Captain. White launching now.” The mic stayed open, producing a gentle hiss. “You thinking of engaging?”

“
Not unless we have to. If we have to, we'll hit and run, delay them here. Please advise the Vice Admiral, I'm recommending that the task force move back to the gate to Irujen and wait for us there. My expectation is, they'll follow us through the gate. We can arrange to have a little welcome party ready for them when they come out into Irujen with their shields down.”

“
Understood, Captain.”

“
Two extra missile frigates and about five-hundred tuned combat drones,” commented Pappy, “pure evil genius, Skipper.”

“
Thank's Pappy. Let's hope Kelarez sees it that way.”

“
White One, Red One, approaching your six...”

“
Copy White One,” confirmed Paul Smiley. “Take the right flank. Yellow Flight, take the left flank. Line formation, everybody. Wide spacing. Shields, guns and idents off, let's stay neutral on their sensors for as long as possible.”

■ ■ ■

Set to thrusters, Mike Warren nudged his throttle forward, moving cautiously through the gravel and rocks, the hail sound setting his teeth on edge. “Easy, Blue Flight, take it
really
slow.” The four Cyclones emerged from their concealment, no worse for the wear except maybe for a little needed paintwork. He looked out over his wing,
the Chief is not going to be happy about that
.

“
What's the plan?” asked Brian.

“
Tail them, try to stay off their sensors. Hit and run if we have to.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “OK... It occurs to me, these folks don't seem to be in any great hurry... Does that worry you at all?”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” replied Mike. “I haven't decided if it worries me or not. But it sure is curious.

“
They're running below forty-percent cruise, Lieutenant,” volunteered one of the younger pilots.

“
I suppose if I had seventy-something fighters at my command, I probably wouldn't be in any great hurry either,” observed Mike. “OK, Blue Flight, engines on, ten percent. Time to play follow the leader. Single file, on me. Stay close.”

■ ■ ■

The seaman at the tactical station was looking at something on his screen he'd never seen before. “Admiral, we have, well, a row of bogies dead ahead on the edge of the sensor grid...”

“
Identify,” replied the Admiral.

“
No information yet sir. There's twelve of them. They're in a straight line across our path, directly between us and the Irujen gate. They appear to be stationary.”

“
Send our on-station flights to investigate.”

“
All three flights, sir?” asked the Captain.

“
All three.”

“
Aye, sir.” The FTLO keyed his mic and sent the orders to the escorting fighters to investigate the strange formation of objects ahead. The bridge crew watched on the big screen as thirty-six tails of light streaked away in formation.

“
Tactical, time to contact?”

“
Ten minutes to engagement range, Admiral.”

Time ticked away slowly on the bridge of the carrier, the fifteen-plus members of the bridge crew busily manning their stations, stewards coming and going. “Tea, Admiral?”

“What? Oh, yes, thank you.” He took the mug and held it while the porter poured.

“
Tea, Captain?”

He waved her off. “None for me...”

■ ■ ■

Time ticked off slowly and the Captain began to regret not taking the tea offered, his mouth dry.

“Admiral, I'm getting chatter between the flights...”

“
Let's hear it.”

The FTLO switched the fighter communications to a bridge audio feed.

“Raefer One, I'm being painted, I'm being painted..!”

“
Easy, Raefer Three, stay in formation...”

“
Grendel Six is being painted...”

“
Raefer Ten is being painted...”

“
Raefer One, what are they? I'm not even getting a profile!”

“
Easy Raefer twelve, we need to get closer...”

“
This is Grendel Four, I'm locked! I'm locked!”

“
Admiral!” shouted the comm officer, “We've just intercepted a message...
Blue Flight, go!”

“
That's it?”

“
That's all there is,” reported the comm officer.