Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) Read online

  The comm chimed and he activated his earpiece without opening his eyes, “Steele...”

  “Captain, the Marines are here...”

  Thank God, someone to protect me from Maria... Jack remained relaxed and reclined, “Thank you Ensign,” he replied. “Have the quarters we discussed on the cargo hold level been prepared? I think those'll give them plenty of room for their gear...”

  “Sir,” interrupted Myomerr, whispering, “protocol dictates you meet them at the gangway...”

  “Ah, of course,” he replied, rising from his desk, “on my way...” Jack shook his head - he was not fond of the military pomp, but he understood the need to keep up traditions. He did an unconscious tuck and primp as he belted on his thigh rig and sidearm, heading for the door to the bridge. Running his fingers through his hair, the door disappeared into the wall with a swish. The bridge only had a few crew members on duty, monitoring communications and other critical systems.

  ■ ■ ■

  Twenty-seven Marines, two squads, stood to the side of the open gangway leading from Blackmount station through the open airlock on the Freedom's flight deck. They stood in formation, two straight lines, their commanding officer out in front. “Attention!” They snapped from an at-ease stance to full attention in unison, the commanding officer saluting. Myomerr stood casually to the right of the open airlock across from them, with another member of the Freedom's security team, both of them with sidearms.

  Jack returned the Marine's salute smartly, “At ease gentlemen.” They dropped to an at-ease stance with the same sharpness as they went into attention. Jack eyed their gear; hard composite body armor, visored helmets, assault rifle type blasters and one man in each squad had what looked to be a light machine-gun type of weapon. A neat stack of duffel bags and several crates stood behind them. “Welcome to the jump carrier, Freedom.” Jack reached out to shake the commanding officer's hand, “Lieutenant...”

  “Giardo, sir.” The Marine shook his hand, “ Thank you Captain Steele. I'm Lieutenant Lelyo Giardo, we are 3rd Battalion 374th Platoon and we've been assigned to the Freedom as her security and troop contingent. Do you have a billet set up for us sir?”

  “We do...” Jack turned to Myomerr, “Ensign, would you like to show our Marines their quarters?” He turned back to the Lieutenant, “We can get together later, after you and your men have settled in and get your bearings...” They exchanged salutes before Jack turned and headed back to the bridge.

  Myomerr strolled over with an electronic notepad tucked under one arm. Her shining platinum eyes regarded the Marine Lieutenant carefully as she brushed curls of her charcoal mane aside, her little black nose twitching, “Yes sir, of course.” She motioned to the Marine Lieutenant, “If you and your men will follow me please...”

  The Lieutenant turned to his men, “You heard the Ensign, FALL OUT! Grab your gear ladies, let's go!”

  The Ketarian walked with the Lieutenant, heading for the freight lift used to move aircraft between the cargo deck and the flight deck. The rest of the Marines trailed behind in two neat lines, weapons and duffel bags slung over their shoulders, their boots clomping on the deck. She pulled up the ship's deck layout on the notepad for the Lieutenant to see as they made their way to the lift. “Lieutenant, you and your men will be set up down on the level below us,” she pointed to the layout on the screen, “You of course, will have your own quarters. Your squad leaders will share quarters and the rest of your platoon will share three to a room. I hope that's acceptable...”

  Lelyo Giardo grinned, “Ma’am, we're Marines, anything above a muddy hole in the ground and cold rations, is not just an improvement, it's paradise.”

  ■ ■ ■

  As Steele had expected, the Freedom had been able to retire the four aging Warthog fighters from her inventory in favor of some superior new replacements. Unfortunately, only two of the six fighters she received were the new top-of-the-line UFW Vulcan birds... they got two more of the Lancias and two more of the Cyclones - neither a poor choice, but not quite the same category as the Vulcans. But, with the other additions it did give her a total of sixteen fighters, plus two Zulu gunships and two Invaders for spec-ops. Add in her two recovery shuttles and you had a pretty full boat. They got a full load of assorted missiles for the birds as well as a nice supply of torpedoes for the Freedom's two launch tubes - something she hadn't had in her inventory since the days she'd been known as the Ynosa. Something else she hadn't the luxury of in a long time, a full fuel load to keep the fighters fed. And last but not least... a full crew. They were up to one-hundred-ninety-seven crew members now, not including the Marines on board.

  Sixteen of those new crew members were pilots. Granted a few of them were fresh out of the academy, but, Jack was sure Commander Paul Smiley would be able to sharpen their skills considerably.

  The last several weeks on their way to UFW Blackmount in the Feerocobi System brought them no action whatsoever - it was like the pirates had packed up and left, simply disappeared. It was a bit disappointing actually, constantly chasing ghosts. Patrols had found signs of their presence... or someone's presence, but the trail was always cold by the time they'd found it. Jack, Gantarro, Captain of the Cruiser Bowman, and Rear Admiral Kelarez had several discussions over dinner on the Admiral's cruiser the Archer within the last several weeks about tactics... About what it might take to lure the pirates out, to track them, to find their hiding places, to beat them at their own game. The Rear Admiral was a sharp officer with an open mind and was willing to listen to things that were contradictory to current tactics, unconventional, maybe even controversial. Things the UFW Directorate had never considered in their rigid, inside the box thinking, not wanting to break the rules. Rule number one in war, there are no rules. Fight to win or go home. Rule number two, if you find yourself in a fair fight, cheat like hell.

  Even though he had never met the members of the UFW Directorate, Jack knew the type; the ones who would rather play it safe, see how it goes, tiptoeing around the truth and making tentative efforts so it actually looked like they were doing something, when all the while they were losing the battle for the lack of guts it would take to risk going all-in and actually winning. Couldn't have that, things might get a little messy, we might get our hands dirty. Politicians - they infected everything they touched with bullshit and uncertainty, walking around with blinders on, lest they see something distasteful. Jack despised people like that, who can't get their heads out of their asses long enough to actually make a decision.

  But Jack had to hand it to Kelarez, however he did it, the Rear Admiral was able to straddle the fence between warrior and politician to speak their language and get through to them. Steele would've liked to have been a fly on the wall to hear that conversation, it must've been some pretty spectacular bullshit because it seemed the UFW Directorate was giving the go-ahead to use whatever means Kelarez wanted, for his task force. He wondered offhand if there was a plausible deniability clause to that agreement.

  A step in the right direction thought Jack, standing in front of the holo-chart in his office. He was studying their route and the notes hovering over some of the locations like little electronic Post-It Notes. If you reached out and touched the notes, they would open, giving a detailed report, then dissolve back into the little footnotes that they were. There were a few new ones too, information updates forwarded to them through UFWs SecureNet, about activity other convoys and task forces had encountered. He made himself a mental note to discuss SecureNet with the Rear Admiral to find out more about its access and security protocols - that could be a serious risk if it wasn't handled properly...

  The door to the bridge slid open with a hiss and Myomerr stepped into the Captain's ready room, her electronic notepad in hand. “Excuse me Captain...”

  Steele looked around the room and then back at her, “It's just us...” he smiled.

  “Jack,” she smiled back, her feline fangs making an appearance. “It's the Marines, they are so regiment
ed, so proper - it's got me a bit on edge...”

  He nodded, “They're like that back home too, it's hammered into them from the day they step off the recruitment bus. It's OK, they'll relax a little when they get to know us.” He pointed to her pad, “Watcha got?”

  She handed it to him, “Everyone's aboard and accounted for. All repairs are complete and we're all stocked and ready to go...”

  His fingers slid across the glass surface, paging through the notes. “The gangway and umbilicals are all detached, we're locked up tight?” She nodded and he handed back the e-Pad. “Good, looks like it's time to shove off then...” As they stepped toward the bridge door he paused, “So, how many bags did she come back with?”

  The Ketarian smiled a crooked smile, her fangs showing again, “You really don't want to know...”

  Steele chuckled, grinning, “Great...” Hopefully somewhere in all that shopping, his wife picked up something slinky and see-through.

  ■ ■ ■

  “Captain on the bridge...!”

  Steele strolled over to his command chair, catching the Marine standing at the bridge door out of the corner of his eye, unmoving, stoic. “OK boys and girls,” he dropped into his seat and flipped on his command screens, “for the first time we have a full boat and a full crew...” he rubbed his hands together, “feels good, doesn't it?” He keyed his mic, “Bridge to engineering...”

  “Engineering, go ahead bridge...” Hecken Noer's thick voice was unmistakable.

  “Light 'em up Chief, we're all buttoned up and ready to go...” The comm chimed as the connection ended. “Ms. Stacell, has Blackmount cleared us for departure?”

  The communications officer turned in her seat, “Yes sir, we're all clear.”

  “Excellent. Helm, take us out, thrusters one half.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a dark curl dropping to his forehead, “Mr. Ragnaar, plot us an intercept course to rendezvous with the Archer and Bowman. Once we're clear of the station, best speed.” The view screens on the bridge wrapped around to the left and right of center, providing a panoramic view. Steele watched the right side as the repair dock, gantries and station slid slowly past.

  The bridge door to the corridor swished open, a low, dark figure jetting through, a glint of metal flashing a reflection. The Marines on the outside and inside of the door both lunged and failed miserably at stopping the intruder. Fritz skidded to a stop next to Jack's command chair and wagged his tail, another Marine jogged down the hall in pursuit, far behind the Shepherd. “Hiya buddy..!” Jack reached down and patted the dog on his side, making a hollow thumping noise. He smirked as he looked over his shoulder at the three Marines standing together, looking highly annoyed...

  CHAPTER TWO

  JUMP CARRIER, FREEDOM: BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

  The steady low rumble of the Freedom's engines was smooth and reassuring, it was good to know she was given a clean bill of health and was operating in top form. Now the task became to get the new crew members used to the ship, their quarters, stations and responsibilities. Forgoing the fact they were wearing the light gray UFW Space Service uniforms and not the Freedom's blue and dark gray, it would still be easy to pick them out of a crowd... the wide-eyed, lost looks on their faces, blindly searching the corridors for something familiar, like a high-school freshman wandering the halls of a new school.

  With his head buried in his electronic notepad, Ensign Zwellin turned the corner of an intersecting corridor and nearly fell over the German Shepherd coming the other way. A bit taken aback, he realized the animal was not alone. “Excuse me...” it took a moment for him to realize it was a superior officer, “Captain!” He went rigid, snapping a salute, cracking himself in the forehead with his e-Pad.

  “Holy shit Ensign,” Steele returned the salute, trying not to laugh, “are you OK...?” He reached forward to steady the man.

  “Uh yes, sir, sorry sir...”

  “Heh,” snorted jack, “don't be sorry, it was your head. You look a bit lost, can I help you?”

  “Yes sir, I seemed to have gotten a bit turned around... I'm looking for the bridge.”

  Steel pointed back toward the way he'd been coming from, “All the way down to the end of the corridor, it turns right; it'll be the first door on the left with the Marine standing in front of it... You sure you're OK?”

  The pale-skinned young man nodded, rubbing the strawberry welt on his forehead. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir...”

  “No problem. So what's your position, Ensign...”

  “Zwellin, sir. I'm you're new navigator.”

  Oh HELL no! shouted the little voice in his head. “Great...” he smiled weakly, it didn't even sound convincing as he said it, “carry on Mr. Zwellin.”

  ■ ■ ■

  The new pilots had it a little easier finding their way around, their quarters being on the same level of the ship as the flight bay. Reporting for duty was a short walk, or run depending on the circumstances, down their corridor and through the blast doors into the flight bay. The control tower was at the forward end of the flight bay, in between the two launch tubes and the briefing room was in the base of the tower. Steele paused as he stepped off the elevator into the flight bay; it was busier than he had ever seen it. Two Cyclone fighters sat in the launch tubes canopies open, fueled, armed and ready to launch. Four more sat in the forward revetments, fueled, armed and waiting for their turn to be moved up to the launch tubes. All around the bay seemed to be movement of personnel and equipment, resembling some odd kind of perpetual motion machine. The Marines had their presence here too, at the entrances to the bay, near the tower and patrolling the flight deck. Steele made a mental note to have a chat with their Lieutenant.

  Commander Paul Smiley had just finished up his briefing with all the pilots, new and old, when Jack slipped into the back of the briefing room. The training schedule for the new pilots had been hashed out and Paul had passed out the promotions for Walrick and Duncan Taylor, both of them moving up to Lieutenant JG. Jack waited until the group had filed out before moving up to the podium, “How do they look?”

  Paul shrugged, “They seem to be OK, a couple have combat experience, the rest are still a little wet behind the ears, but they're sharp, I'll give 'em that...”

  Jack smirked, “I almost wish we'd kept the Warthogs to break them in on...”

  Paul held up an e-Pad, “They all scored well and their instructors gave them good grades in their cockpit time - hopefully we're past the point of breaking things by stupidity...” he shrugged, “but Mike, Derrick and I will check them all out. And none will fly patrols without a senior, that's why I wanted to promote Duncan and Walrick.”

  Jack nodded, “Good, don't want to lose any of these new birds to a simple fuckup.” He took the e-Pad and looked over the notes and scores of the new pilots, nodding. “Yeah, they are pretty good. Some pretty glowing comments from the flight instructors too.” He looked up, “Wasn't sure what to expect, I was hoping the UFW wasn't handing us their rejects or something.”

  “Looks like top of the class to me,” Paul accepted the e-Pad back, “or pretty close to it.”

  “That's good...” Jack glanced at his watch, “because we should be at rendezvous in just a few minutes, the Archer and Bowman are waiting for us at the gate to Haruna Tier.”

  “What happened, I thought we were headed to Ossomon...”

  “We were, but there's a distress call pinging in Haruna Tier. So far there've been no replies to our calls...”

  “Pirates?”

  Jack shrugged, “Maybe, but it could be routine. It's an ore miner - can't imagine what they'd want with an ore ship...” He drummed his fingers momentarily on the podium, “But we launch as soon as we come out of that gate... take all six of the Cyclones,” he thumbed over his shoulder. “Maybe ready a Zulu...”

  Paul nodded approvingly, “Will do. How long's the gate ride?”

  “About eight hours, enough to get some rack time if you guys need it.”

  �
�� ■ ■

  The Marines had taken over a caged-off tool room in the cargo bay and turned it into their unit armory. It had probably originally been an armory when the ship was first commissioned as the Ynosa, but fell into duty as a simple storage room when she had been lost to the pirates. The reclaimed armory was conveniently located just outside the blast doors that led to the Marine's quarters. Weapons, parts, ammunition and armor were neatly stacked, hung or racked in place for easy access and maintenance. A Corporal sitting at the workbench, his back to the door, had his weapon in pieces in front of him. Jack tapped on the grillwork of the locked door to get his attention. “S'cuse me Corporal...”

  “Just a sec...” the Corporal hovered over his parts not turning around.