Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (6 page)

The Commander nodded and smiled without looking up from his screens... it was true; they were a
very
heavily armed d
uck. But for some reason that didn't make him any less anxious. Pirates were like cockroaches, if there were two destroyers out there, it was a sure bet there were more. The Archer and Bowman hadn't reported seeing them in the gate transit - it is virtually impossible to have missed them passing and there was no other gate in that end of the sector. So, where in the hell had they come from? Stellar Cartography had no record of any planetary bodies in that area and no asteroid fields to hide in. It was a real head scratcher...

Checking the data and sensor sweep on his screens, Commander Edgars could see that the four Lancias of Blue flight had rendezvoused with the six Cyclones of Red flight; however the destroyers were still out of the Freedom's enhanced sensor reach. There had still been no communications with the pair of destroyers but since they were not broadcasting the UFW coded ping and not responding to verbal communications, they had to be treated like hostile ships.

■ ■ ■

Moving toward the destroyers at about one third throttle, Commander Paul Smiley was watching the four Lancias of Blue flight approach from behind on his sensor screen. “Welcome to the bar-b-que, Blue Flight... let's get this party
started
.” He throttled up to about seventy five percent as the Lancias fell into formation with the six Cyclones of Red Flight.

Sitting in the lead Lancia, Lieutenant Commander Derrick Brighton keyed his mic, “Roger Red Leader, we are happy to be a part of these
smashing festivities
... point us toward the closest piñata.”

Paul smirked at Derrik's dry British humor. “OK boys, arm guns, arm ordinance...” he flipped the toggles charging his weapons systems. “Red Four, take Five and Six, flank right. Red Two and Three, we're going left.” Smiley leaned the stick, arcing his group toward the left flank. “Blue Leader, take your boys straight up the middle...” He adjusted his targeting settings, “...and Zulu Two, as soon as you see a shield gap on one of those tin cans, you split 'em in half.”

“Copy Red Lead,” Lieutenant Brian Carter nudged the throttles back to hang behind the fighters, activating the gunship's weapons systems and flipping on the targeting system for the two massive ship-killer torpedoes the Zulu was carrying. His copilot monitored the gunship's tactical information and two additional crewmen manned the chin and dorsal turrets.

Paul set his comm system to broadcast on all channels for one last try, “This is Commander Paul Smiley of the UFW jump carrier Freedom... to the two destroyers we are approaching; identify yourself now or we will be forced to attack...” There was no reply, except the destroyers began to turn, slowly, moving to offer a broadside profile, one positioned higher than the other, presumably to allow its guns to shoot over the top of its sister ship, effectively doubling their firepower.

“They're turning Pappy...”

Paul switched back to the encoded UFW channel, “I see it Mike. Red Leader to all birds, let's light 'em up!” He pushed the throttle forward and felt the kick of the fighter's full thrust.

“Pappy, something's not right. These two are cruising around like they're out for a stroll on the beach...”

It didn't feel right to Paul either. He glanced at the targeting screen, the sensor sweep blipping each time it passed the targeted ships. At 20 seconds to target, there was no defensive fire from the destroyers and they still hadn't raised their shields. For the first time in a long time, the hair on the back of his neck was standing up...

■ ■ ■

Steele
checked the sensor on the underside of his wrist for the umpteenth time, the glowing digital face showed an increase in atmosphere and temperature, but the carbon dioxide content was still dangerously high. “We can't wait any longer guys, we're running out of air and the ship's oxygen isn't safe... switch your suits to rebreather, the scrubbers ought to give us about another hour.”

“
Crap, I hate the taste of scrubbed air...”

“
I hear somebody's mouth moving,” retorted Steele, “but all I hear is waaaa waaaa waaaa...” He could hear snickering in his headset. “OK Lieutenant, I think we're ready for gravity.”

“
Copy that Captain, everybody duck and cover. Gravity in four, three, two, one...” Everything all over the ship came crashing down, a cacophony of noise in the ship's thin atmosphere, distorted in the external mics fitted into their helmets, definitely a cringe-worthy event, alien sounding and eerie. And then all was quiet again.

Steele flipped open the small panel on his left arm and flipped off the micro switch for his boots.
Ah, to walk in normal gravity
, it felt so much better. He flexed his tired legs. “OK Lieutenant, go ahead and start restoring power to the ship's systems, looks like the gennies are stable now.”

“
Copy that Captain.”

“
We'll still be down here for a little bit, the Corporal will be lighting up the thrust engines and starting the warmers for the mains.... if you could restore power to the air-car system, that would be appreciated - save us a long walk back.”

“
Will do sir...”

Whoever had said it was right, the scrubbed air did taste odd... Jack shrugged it off; it was better than no air at all, or trying to breathe the ship's weak oxygen... which bought him to another thought... hypoxia. If this was the best the ship's air system could do, it might explain some of the bizarre circumstances. “Corporal, is the air system working at full capacity?”

Draza Mac was working on the start-up for the thrust engines and maneuvering jets, standing at the engineering console and walking through the command sequence. “Yes sir,” he didn't look up from the keyboard, “but I don't know anything about those systems - wouldn't know how to back-check or troubleshoot...” the ship groaned, a sorrowful, mournful, metal, hollow groan, long and low. Draza stopped what he was doing and looked up, realizing everyone else had heard it too, “What... the fuck...
was that?”

“
Steele here, Lieutenant, did you hear that...?”

“
I was just going to ask you the same thing... what the hell was that?”

“
No idea, but I don't like it.”

“
Captain, we heard it here in the cargo bay too...”

“
In the video feed?”

“
Well yeah there too,” replied Myomerr, “but through the hull of the shuttle...”

“
I've got a bad feeling about this...” Steele turned back to the Corporal, “Hurry the fuck up. I want us off this tin can...”

The Corporal resumed the thruster engine start-up, “Could just be the hull warming up with the atmosphere...” metal squealed and creaked as if to reply, clicking and popping like a hot engine cooling off.

“Somehow I don't think it's agreeing with you...” Steele was examining two of the dead crewmen who looked like they had beaten each other to death. He wasn't ready to afford a personality to the ship just yet, but something had driven this crew to do things that weren't rational or sane, and it had to have something to do with the ship. Poor oxygen supply could lead to confusion, high levels of carbon dioxide could lead to hallucinations... but there were no warning lights or error messages, it reported that all the supply systems were working normally. Nothing added up the way it should. He paused, listening intently to the low, soft, metal... heartbeat? “Please tell me you have the engines up...”

The Corporal was frozen at the keyboard, “Nooo...”

The Sergeant looked at him from the generator control board, speaking slowly and deliberately, “Draza, quit pulling your pud and get those fucking engines up,
on the double!
And let's get our asses
off this can!”

■ ■ ■

Myomerr and Maria were getting anxious just waiting in the shuttle, as it sat in the cramped cargo bay, monitoring the video and audio feeds... Jittery might actually be more accurate - especially considering all the odd noises, flickering lights, moving shadows, falling crates, tools and debris. Maria had gotten out of her seat in the cockpit to stretch her legs and was pacing back and forth in the passenger area of the shuttle. “What's taking them so long... they need to hurry up... we need to get out of here...”

“
I know, I feel it too...” Myomerr shifted in her seat uneasily and ran her fingers through her mane. The rain of things falling through the air and clattering across the shuttle's hull when the anti-gravity came on was disturbing, but the dust that stirred up when the atmosphere began pumping into the bay did some pretty strange visual things. They had shut down all the shuttle's floodlights because the glare made it look like a snowstorm, the bay's stasis field holding it all in, creating a swirl of clouds. Things seemed to move about in the swirling clouds, shifting places around the bay... or did they? It was almost impossible to tell, everything including the windows of the shuttle were covered with a film of dark-gray dust.
“Maria... Maria!”

Maria ran back into the cockpit, leaning over Myomerr's shoulder, “What's wrong?”

“The video feeds just went down!”

“
Audio?”

“
No, nothing... their comms are down too - I've lost all communication with them!”

Maria plopped back into her seat, “Lemme try...” she pulled up the base communications command system and paused in mid keystroke, “What is that sound...?”

Myomerr tilted he head, her feline ears standing up, “Sounds... like a
heartbeat
...”

■ ■ ■

Commander Edgars leaned forward in his command chair, “Red Leader, please repeat, did you just say
they disappeared?”

“
That is
affirmative
, Freedom.”

“
Two destroyers just disappeared...?”

“
Affirmative.”

The Commander leaned back in his chair, scratching his forehead. “Would you care to elaborate on that Red Leader?”

“Disappeared... as in vanished, ceased to be visible, no longer present...” the open mic hissed quietly for a moment, “poof, all gone - they go bye-bye...”

Walt Edgars cleared his throat; fighting the urge to laugh, “Understood...” he could see other members of the bridge crew fighting the same urge.

“Red Flight will be returning to refuel, Blue Flight and Zulu Two will continue on patrol.”

“
Understood, Red Leader.” Walt was eager to talk to Paul in person to get more details, he was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around two ships the size of destroyers, vanishing in space within visual striking distance. “Mr. Ragnarr, Ms. Raulya, have you ever heard of any ship having this ability before...?” Both of them agreed this was something entirely new and unheard of. “Ms. Raulya, please send a secure message to Admiral Kelarez and inform him of this development, maybe he'll have some insight into this...”

“
Yes sir... wait,
Commander
, we've lost
all contact
with the shuttle and the boarding party!”

Walt quickly pulled up the video feed from the shuttle relay and found three blank frames... “I don't have a good feeling about this...”

■ ■ ■

Corporal Draza Mac looked up from the engineering console, “Thrusters and jets are up,” his fingers plugging away at the keypad, “main warmers next.”

Steele nodded inside his helmet, “Lieutenant, you've got thrusters and jets. Activate our running lights and get us away from the gate...” he waited but there was no response. “Lieutenant...” he looked around at the other Marines in the engineering section, “can you guys hear me?” He got a round of affirmative responses.

The Sergeant tried as well, calling each member of the bridge team by name with no response.

“Shuttle, this is Steele, can you hear me...?” Nothing but silence. He looked around at the Marines, “Pack it up, we're outta here.”

The Corporal looked up from the engineering console, “I haven’t finished setting up the warmup routine for the mains yet...”

“Don't care, we're done here. The thrusters are enough to get us off the gate, that's all I care about, let's go...” he turned and headed toward the front of engineering, weaving his way through the generators and equipment, the Marines filed in behind him. They stopped dead in their tracks as the lights flickered and went out, throwing them back into darkness, before the emergency lighting winked on, section by section, bathing everything in an eerie red glow. “Oh... what the
fuck...”

“
Shouldn't be happening Captain, the gennys are running, the batteries are charging, the thrusters and jets are on line...”

“
Doesn't matter Marines, let's go,” he switched his wrist and helmet lights back on as he moved through the engineering bay headed for the blast doors leading to the spine of the ship and the air-car system. “We're done with this pile of shit... we ought to point it into the nearest planet and let it burn up.” As they neared the blast doors they began to open, slowly, grinding and squealing in protest, stopping about halfway open. Steele eyed the door, “Why don't I trust this door...” He knew he said it out loud but he wasn't expecting an answer, it was more of a rhetorical question. He jumped through, half expecting it to move, to try to block him or crush him. But it didn't. Whether it was what he said, or that the others were thinking along the same lines, each man made the same hesitant jump through the half open door, which sat there, seemingly stuck in place.