Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (54 page)

“
Alien abduction? So we're back to the UFOs and the NSA then.”

Chase shrugged, “You can't tell me you don't believe, you saw one, for fuck's sake. I didn't get to see it, but after spending some time with his parents, I have no doubts.”

“Yeah, I did... though I wish I hadn't.” Dan Murphy drained his bottle. “I see that damn thing every time I close my eyes.”

“
You might get to see another one...”

“
What?”

“
According to his mom and dad, Jack's sister left them a note the night she was picked up, basically it said they'd be back.”

“
Holy shit... I don't know if I want to be around for that or not. Wait, but why? If he's really out there, why would he be coming back?”

“
For his parents. Maybe to settle a score,” smiled Chase. “He couldn't make it back himself, to pick up Lisa. The ship that showed up was another ship from his fleet...”

“
Fleet?”

“
Yeah. And his dad told me
that ship
was only about a third the size of Jack's ship.”

Dan grinned, “You're so full of crap...”

“No joke. Brother Jack has himself a carrier.”

Dan frowned and shook his head, “Carrier of what?”

“Of fighter craft. Like an aircraft carrier in space...”

“
Please tell me you're shitting me...”

“
On the level,” replied Chase. “He's the Captain. And the F-18 pilots that disappeared at the same time are part of the crew.”

“
How... How...” Dan's mind reeled; he couldn't think to formulate a complete thought.

“
Personally,” continued Chase, “I'd love to see one in person.”

“
No you wouldn't
.
Believe me
when I tell you, you absolutely, positively,
do not...”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

MISSILE FRIGATE, REVENGE :
ABOUT FACE

Much smaller than the Freedom's bridge, the Revenge's bridge could almost be considered cozy. Almost. Sitting in the command chair, Brian was reviewing the atmospheric report and live weather map of the surface, watching the storms slowly break up and dissipate.

“Freedom's shuttle is away, Lieutenant. Miss Alité's on her way back to home base.”

“
Thank you Ms. Raulya.” Brian let out a low sigh of relief. For some reason, Alité's transition in his head from Princess to Queen was more complicated than he had anticipated. Maybe it was the realization that she was the Monarch of an entire planet. The Princess title seemed to be just that, a title, it didn't have any tangibility. But
Queen
had suddenly become more substantial, more imposing. He worked to push it out of his mind.
OK, back to work.
“Take us back down to the surface, Mr. Ragnaar.”

“
Aye sir, plotting course to Rem One's last known position.”

Raulya turned in her seat, “Red Flight is departing the Freedom now, they'll rendezvous with us over the second continent to begin the search pattern.”

“Have we picked up any signals now that the weather's cleared?”

“
No, sir,” she replied. “No comms, no EPRBs.”

Brian didn't like the sound of that. A bird down, no locator beacon, no comms, no emergency broadcasts... There was no good news there.
We need a break.

■ ■ ■

The cruisers, Archer and Bowman, with the corvette, UFW77, were spread out across the system, patrolling. The Freedom maintained station near the planet where she could monitor her patrol flights across the system as well as the search craft in the planet's atmosphere. The bold GOD jumps of the transport ships in Veloria's atmosphere had Admiral Kelarez convinced the pirates were too accustomed to free rein in the system and was concerned they might not give it up so easily. He'd put out an encrypted message requesting reinforcements in Veloria Prime as well as the neighboring systems in case they were being used as a staging area. Whether he would get that support, or if there were any ships in reach, was still in question.

Myomerr turned from the Freedom's tactical station, “Commander, Red Flight departing to rendezvous with the Revenge. Blue Flight launching, White Flight prepping for launch.”

“We've routed Zulu One with Red Flight?”

“
Aye, Commander. Zulu One is in Red's formation.”

“
Understood.” The floor vibrated as two Lancias of Blue Flight catapulted from the Freedom's launch tubes. Commander Paul Smiley rose from the command chair, “You've got the bridge Walt, I need to head down to the flight tower...”

“
Right-O. Will you be taking a flight?”

“
I'm not expecting to, but I'm gonna suit up just in case. We're a little short handed for flight leaders so I'm putting myself on the roster for Yellow Flight. Keep me apprised...”

“
Of course.”

■ ■ ■

From the cockpit of his Cyclone, Lieutenant Mike Warren glanced left and right, checking on the other members in Red Flight. “Red Flight entering atmosphere in; three, two, one...” The Cyclones buffeted some as they penetrated the outer layer, their formation wavering. “And we have penetration. How you doing back there, Zulu One?”

“
Right on your six, Lieutenant.”

“
Atta boy, Fidos, but keep it loose.” Ensign Fidos was one of the Freedom's new pilots, untested in combat, but who'd proved himself to be reliable and steady-handed. Mike chose him for the gunship because he'd have the assistance of two other crew members and gun turrets if things got a little thick. “How're we doing on time, Santine?”

“
Right on schedule...”

■ ■ ■

Lisa stood in front of the steamed mirror in the bathroom, towel draped across her shoulders examining her naked body. The hot shower had felt good and helped some, but she still felt like she'd played through a pro football game. As the football. A slight change in hue from purple towards the blue spectrum and she figured she'd probably be able to pass as a Smurf in a pinch. Good thing she had been wearing a helmet...

“
Good morning, dearie!” Helen's voice was almost musical, but Lisa yelped in surprise, trying to cover herself up with the towel, eliciting an uncontrolled whimper as her muscles protested loudly over the sudden movement. “Oh, for goodness sakes girl, you'd think I've never seen your type of equipment before. I have two grown daughters of my own... Of course neither one of them had ever been so purple, but that's beside the point, isn't it.” It wasn't so much a question as a statement. She set a little silver tray on the vanity with a pitcher and glass of pale pink liquid and pulled a little glass tub of yellow cream from her apron pocket. When she unscrewed the lid, it filled the room with a flowery scent that reminded Lisa of Jasmine. “You might as well unclench, sweetie, this is going to help you...”

Lisa relaxed some, “That smells wonderful, what is it?”

“Extract from the flowers of the Pattahoolia tree... it increases circulation, so it will relax your muscles, reduce pain and help the bruising go away faster.” She took Lisa's towel away and threw it on the floor, “That is just going to be in the way. Here drink this...” Helen handed her a glass of the pale pink juice and pulled out the small chair from the vanity, sitting her sizable bottom gingerly on it. Taking a dollop of the cream from the little container she rubbed it between her hands and began firmly but carefully massaging it into Lisa's bruised body. “My goodness, child, did you manage to hit every branch on the way down?”

Lisa noted the cream went on coolly and warmed some, her skin feeling electrified as Helen massaged it in with grandmotherly care. The juice wasn't a citrus, but had a taste like grapefruit without the tang, sweeter like it was mixed with papaya. “This is yummy, what's it called?”

“Pattahoolia fruit, of course.”

“
Of course.” Lisa drank the juice with introspection, wondering why it felt less uncomfortable for an old woman, a stranger, to be massaging her bruised body than her actual mother.
Would she ever let her mother do this?
she wondered.
Not as an adult... at least not while she was capable of doing it herself. Did she look that much like a lost puppy?
Looking in the mirror, she'd have to say yes. The crisscrossing patterns of bruises had joined forces overnight, conspiring to take over, blending together, spreading out. She had bruises on top of bruises. If that was even possible.

Helen gave her a playful tug on her hair, “OK, I think that's all of them. I've laid some clothes out for you,” she said, rising from the chair, “but give yourself a few moments for the cream to soak in before you get dressed. I washed that flimsy little white bodysuit you had on, but that outer thing - well, I wouldn't know how to get clean... it looked like someone used you as a plow to dig up a field,” she chuckled, her turquoise eyes sparkling. “Jenitee's clothes should fit you fine, you're about the same size, her work pants should be able to carry all the things you had with you.”

“I can't thank you enough...”

Helen waved it off, “It's nothing I wouldn't do for my own children.” She pointed at the pitcher, “And drink as much of that juice as you can, because what the cream does on the outside, the juice does on the inside.”

■ ■ ■

Nevin swung the farmhouse screen door open, strolling in, “Well
good afternoon
, sunshine.”

Lisa looked up with alarm from her breakfast,
“Afternoon?”

“
Stop it Nevie,” scolded Helen. “He's teasing you, dearie. He loves to poke fun at anyone who gets up later than dawn...” She poured him a cup of coffee. “Find anything?”

“
Found where she came down,” he said, indicating Lisa. “That was quite a walk young lady. If you had chosen any other direction, you would've either walked into the ocean or would still be out there somewhere. You're very lucky you found us, lots of wilderness out there...”

“
And lots of wildlife,” added Helen.

“
Anything dangerous?” asked Lisa. Nevin and Helen looked at each other for a telling moment, before looking back at her, giving her a chill. “Really? Anything I couldn't kill with my carbine?”

“
I suppose,” replied Nevin. “If you have enough ammunition.” He sipped his coffee, “You almost ready to go?”

“
Where are you headed now?” asked Helen.

“
The boys want to meet in town and we'll fan out inland of where our young lady landed, check the washes and canyons...”

“
How about the shore?”

Nevin shook his head, “Hutthorn and his boy were goin' that way and his skimmer broke down. Soon as he gets it runnin' again, he'll head that way and radio us if he finds anything.”

■ ■ ■

The skimmer was a utilitarian looking machine, resembling a Jeep with no wheels, an anti-gravity hovercraft of sorts, propelled by directional air jets. Despite it's obvious age and rather rough, homemade, work-weary appearance, the ride was smooth and fast, though not the quietest.

“How fast will it go?” shouted Lisa over the engine noise while adjusting her goggles.

Nevin didn't take his eyes off the gravel road. “On a flat, like this road, an open field or water, two-hundred or so. The only drawback is, she don't stop so fast.”

“What do you do, if you
have
to stop fast?” she shouted.

“
Crash...” he hollered back.

That was
not
what she wanted to hear. “Swell,” she muttered, checking her safety harness.

“
Don't worry, young lady,” he hollered, glancing in her direction, “I haven't had a crash in over twenty years...”