Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  “I'm just looking for the Lieutenant,” continued Jack, “If you could just tell me...”

  “I said, just a second,” he shook his head, “I'm in the middle of something...” He glanced over his shoulder, annoyed at the interruption. His eyes widened with recognition and he jumped to his feet, scattering parts on the floor, his body at rigid attention, firing off a salute and holding it. “MY APOLOGIES CAPTAIN! NO EXCUSE SIR! CORPORAL DUNNOM SIR, HOW CAN I HELP YOU?”

  Jack tried not to laugh, he felt bad, he knew Dunnom was probably never going to find all of those parts. He saluted back and in a calm even voice, “Easy Corporal, try to use your inside voice... relax. I'd like to find your commanding officer so we can discuss duty options.”

  The Corporal relaxed... a little. “Through the hatch, first door on the right... Again, sorry sir...”

  Jack waved his hand casually, “Forget about it Dunnom, I have.” He turned and walked through the blast door which split down the middle with a hydraulic hiss, the two halves sliding into the walls on either side.

  Steele knocked on the open doorway to the Lieutenant's quarters, “Got a moment, Lieutenant?” The Marine looked up from his reading and recognizing a senior officer, began to rise. Jack was watching and ready for it, cutting him off, holding out his open hand, “Relax Lieutenant, relax. I'm just here to chat.” The Marine eased back down into his chair the e-Pad resting on his lap.

  “Doing some reading...?”

  The Marine eyed the Captain curiously, “Yes sir” he answered slowly.

  “Anything interesting...?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, yes... I'm reading about this ship. And you...” he wasn't sure where the conversation was headed or exactly how to address it properly. He decided being honest was the best course of action. “It's... strange...”

  Steele invited himself in and sat in a chair opposite the Marine Lieutenant, “You have no idea... and if that's the official version,” he added, pointing at the e-Pad, “it's only half the story. The truth is waaay more bizarre.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees - as if he was confiding military secrets, “Let me tell you the whole story...”

  ■ ■ ■

  The Freedom was in the lead position as the three ship formation neared the gate exit heading into Haruna Tier. As planned, all stations were manned, gunnery crews were in place, and all the ship's turrets were charged and ready. The only thing currently offline would be the shields until the ship was clear of the gate and free of its influence.

  The Gate looked deceivingly simple, like four small points of light in a square with a touch of color drifting across the middle. As the ships approached, it became obvious the expanse between the markers was tremendous and the color was actually a giant, slowly spinning swirl of brilliant translucent colors. As a ship entered the effects of the gate, tendrils of color reached out, the swirl enlarging, dancing around and swallowing the ship into clouds of undulating, effervescent color, exploding outwards like a giant Roman candle, spilling the ship from the starless tunnel of shimmering, satiny, silver silk into the star-filled blackness of Haruna Tier. In an instant, they were out and the color was gone, the effects of the gate behind them.

  The motionless mining ship loomed in front of them like a fallen tree across a narrow trail, its long dark cylindrical hull stretching in both directions off the view screen. “HARD TO PORT, SHIELDS UP!” Steele flipped the screens on his command console to the flight control tower as he watched the view on the bridge's big screen swing hard to the left. “Comm, alert the Archer and Bowman!” He activated his mic, “Tower this is the bridge, are you ready to launch...?”

  “Affirmative, bridge,”

  The nose of the Freedom was clear of the hulk in front of them, “All fighters break to port on launch... LAUNCH!” The floor vibrated as a pair of Cyclones shot from the Freedom's bow, their engines igniting after clearing the tubes and arcing gracefully up to the left. Jack looked around the bridge, “helm, keep us moving, tactical, do we have any readings out there?” An inset picture showing a rearward view popped up on the main view screen and Jack glanced at it momentarily as the Archer exited the gate, a halo of exploding color surrounding it.

  Raulya turned in her chair, “No targets in our scan range Captain. I am reading some relatively fresh energy residues...” The floor vibrated again as two more Cyclone fighters launched. “There doesn't seem to be a clear trail or wake, though it does look like there was considerable activity around the ore miner and the gate...”

  “What about the miner? Are you picking up anything off of her?”

  “No sir, all systems are offline except the emergency beacon... Engines are cold, so she's been sitting for at least a day... I'm not seeing any life signs on board. As cold as she is, I'd think they'd be pretty obvious.”

  “I'm not seeing any damage...”

  “I'm not either Captain, but it does look like the forward cargo bay is open.”

  “Does she have an ID?”

  “Checking...” Raulya pulled the serial number off the emergency beacon signal to look it up. “UFW has her listed as the Oceania, she's owned by the VirTech Mining Corporation. Their stats show a crew of ten.”

  “Ten? That's it? That thing has to be over a mile long... holy crap.” He keyed his mic for a ship-wide page, “Lieutenant Giardo, and Ensign Myomerr to my ready room, on the double...”

  Jack rose from his command chair, Fritz rising with him, “Commander, you have the bridge.”

  Professor Walt Edgars nodded, “Right you are.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Jack was sitting on the corner of the holo-chart table, Myomerr and Giardo standing behind him. The vid-screen was split down the center, for a conference with the commanders of the three ships. “There's only two possibilities here,” started Jack, “they were running and got caught just short of the gate, or, and I think this is more likely, the Oceania was moved in this position on purpose, to hinder travel through the gate - giving them the perfect opportunity for a seizure...”

  The Admiral nodded, “I'm sure you're right. I think the first course of business is clearing the way...”

  “We're going to send a boarding team over, we'll know more shortly.”

  “Perfect. And in the meantime, we notified VirTech Mining and they're sending a crew to come and see if they can reclaim her... the snag is that it'll take them at least a day to get here.”

  Jack shrugged, “No problem. We can hang here and see if we can find any clues. If you want to patrol on, maybe you can pick up their trail. We'll catch up as soon as we get free here.”

  “Alright Mr. Steele, we're going to head to Klinghoffer, I think that's our best guess, keep us informed. We'll double back if you need us.”

  Gantarro saluted, “Don't let them sneak up on you Jack...” the communication ended and the screen winked out, switching back to a view of the Oceania sitting motionless in space.

  Jack turned to his officers, “OK, let's go...”

  “Wait,” Lieutenant Giardo rubbed his forehead, “sir you can't go...”

  “Sure I can.”

  “Sir, a ship's Captain shouldn't be on a boarding party, that's a breach of protocols... it's too much of a risk.”

  Myomerr looked him square in the eyes and shook her head, “Tell me you just didn't say that...” she grinned, her fangs showing.

  “Remember our little chat Lieutenant; protocols are different on this ship... my ship, my rules.”

  Understandably, the Marine didn't want an unknown, potentially in the way if things went South, but he could see it was a losing battle. “Under protest.”

  Steele nodded, “Noted. But I'm still going.”

  ■ ■ ■

  “No offense sir, but what the hell is that thing?”

  “This?” Steele finished strapping the thigh rig over his flight suit. “Sergeant, this is a one of a kind, custom made .45 caliber, 1911 semi-auto, charged particle blaster. He drew it from the holster and ejecting
the magazine, cleared the chamber and handed it to the Sergeant as they boarded the shuttle with the other Marines. “Our Chief Engineer knows how much I liked my personal weapon, so he created something that looks, feels and shoots like it, but works with or without atmosphere.”

  “It's a lot heavier than our sidearms... how's it shoot?” He handed it back to the Captain.

  “It's a stainless steel alloy, not composite like yours...” he said, accepting it back, “I haven't had a chance to shoot it yet. The Chief said it has less recoil than my original 1911 and the magazine holds three times the ammunition. I kinda like the extra ammunition idea.” He chambered a round and safetied the gun before re-holstering.

  They belted in as the Lieutenant secured the door. Vibrating as the anti-grav kicked on, the shuttle lifted off of the flight deck and headed out through the blue veil of the stasis field, passing out into the inky blackness through the Freedom's stern, the long hull of the Oceania visible in the distance ahead of them.

  The Freedom had taken up a position about a hundred miles from the Oceania, fighter patrols roaming the entire sector, a heavily armed Zulu drifting on station about halfway between the two ships.

  With the ore miner looming ahead, looking like a giant lifeless animal carcass, Myomerr steered the shuttle toward the open cargo hold below the hull near the front of the ship. “There doesn't seem to be a mark on her anywhere, Captain...” she adjusted her sensors, “it's kind of eerie.”

  Co-piloting, Maria reduced throttle and activated the shuttle's flood lights, illuminating the side of the Oceania and the dark opening of the cargo bay as they maneuvered under her hull. She glanced over her shoulder, “In we go...” The bay was small, a worn, four-man shuttle sitting to one side, its hatches open. Most of the rest of the bay was stacked with miscellaneous crates and assorted tools, but looking relatively unused. Easing in, they crabbed the shuttle sideways in the darkened bay to allow room for the Marines to disembark, the craft settling to the deck with a solid bump as Maria reversed the anti-gravity to land. “OK guys, no gravity out there, switch on your boots and don't forget your air...” She and Myomerr closed their helmet visors sealing their suits.

  The Marines unbelted, gathered their gear, and activated their systems before cracking the door, a whoosh of air escaping into the open, unprotected bay.

  Steele looked around, “Mic check everybody...” One by one as they stepped out of the shuttle they checked the comm systems with each other and with the shuttle. Jack signaled to Maria, “OK we're clear, button it up, stay put till we come back.” She signaled thumbs-up and the ramp began to lift upward off the deck. Steele squinted in the glare of the spotlights, was that her thumb or middle finger... he dismissed the thought. “Stay in contact with the Freedom and the patrols,” he instructed, “if anything develops out there, let me know.”

  “Will do, Skipper...”

  He reached up to the side of his helmet, switching on the lights and camera mounted to his helmet, as did the Sergeant and Lieutenant, “Are the cams up?”

  “Video and sound, all good.”

  Jack nodded inside his helmet, heading across the small bay, “Let's head to the bridge and see what kind of shape she's in - see if we can get some of these systems up and running.”

  The Lieutenant caught him by the elbow. “Sir, I think we should go first...”

  “We're back to that again Lieutenant?”

  “Yes sir...”

  “You boys play nice. Don't make me come out there...”

  In unison, the Captain and Lieutenant turned to look back at the cockpit of the shuttle. With the spotlights on, they could only see the silhouette of the craft, but Jack knew Myomerr was sitting there with that toothy grin of hers. He turned back, their bodies making long shadows that reached up the walls of the bay. “OK Lieutenant, you lead, I'll be right behind you.” Looking for and finding an emergency access hatch not far from the elevator, the squad climbed four levels up the access tube in the almost pitch black darkness, their helmet and hand spotlights playing odd swimming shadows on the walls of the narrow tube as they climbed the ladder. Jack decided it was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic.

  They waited, clinging to the ladder, as the Lieutenant worked the mechanism of the door above them and muscled the rusty door open, kicking it hard to force the protesting hinges to give way. Jack couldn't hear the squeal of the hinges so much as he could feel it through the rung of the ladder he was clinging to. The Lieutenant looked down below him, “OK we're in...” he swung himself off the ladder and shouldered through the narrow door, bringing his weapon up, it's light pointing down the empty corridor. “Clear left...”

  Jack followed behind him, unholstered the new hybrid 1911 and covered the corridor in the opposite direction. “Clear right... we're close to the bridge, but I'm not sure which way it is...” the rest of the squad made their way up and into the corridor, their weapon lights combining with the helmet and wrist lights, playing beams of light about, searching the darkness. “I think this thing is shaped like a capital A, and we're in the center corridor, we can go either way, your call.”

  “We need to clear both sides anyway Captain, we'll split and meet at the bridge...” he turned and motioned to the members of the squad, “Sergeant, take some of your men and follow the Captain, the rest of you are with me.”

  The group split in half and moved away from each other into the darkness, their weapons at the ready. Moving down the corridor in a stacked formation, Steele, in the lead. He peeked left around the corner at the intersecting corridor, the Sergeant checking the opposite direction. To the right, it looked like the corridor tilted upwards, just beyond a set of yawning blast doors... more darkness lay beyond. The team turned left and moved up the corridor towards the bridge, checking the living quarters on each side, their doors open. The last man in the group advanced with them in reverse, watching the team's back.

  “Captain, why are all the doors open like this...?”

  Steele slid the next half-open door back on his side by hand, peeking in, leading with the muzzle of his sidearm, “In the case of a total power failure or shutdown, they're designed to release automatically so you don't get trapped.”

  “It's damn creepy...”

  Steele smirked, “Yeah it is...” he paused to look down at something smeared on the floor and adjacent wall, “Blood...” he scraped at the smear on the floor with the toe of his boot, “hmm, frozen.” He checked the sensor on the underside of his wrist, the digital face glowing green, it showed -15° Fahrenheit.

  “Captain...” Steele looked to his right, the Sergeant and a Private were illuminating the interior of a room with their helmet and weapon lights, a body floated motionlessly in the room, bludgeoned and covered in frozen blood.

  They moved on, reaching the corner of the corridor as it turned left, the Lieutenant's team just entering the bridge doorway ahead. They all filed in, staring at the gory mess spread before them, 3 frozen bodies floating motionless; beaten, shot, stabbed, it really wasn't clear what happened. Whatever occurred, it was prolonged and very messy.

  “Wow...” the voice was female, “pirates Captain?

  Steele had almost forgotten about the video feed. “My gut tells me no...” he said, holstering his sidearm and moving through the debris on the bridge, “maybe a mutiny, I don't know, not enough information yet. But I don't think we're going to find anyone alive on this ship.” He grabbed one of the bodies and drew it to him, examining the fingers and eyes with his lights.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Jack shrugged inside his suit, “Nothing, anything, everything...” he let the corpse go. Since there was no power on the bridge, they would have to go to the engine room if they wanted to get anything accomplished. “OK, half of you stay here, half with me; we're heading to the engine room.” He looked at the squad, “Who's our best mechanic...?”

  A Corporal stepped forward raising his hand, “That'd be me, sir, Draza Mac.

 
“OK, Corporal, let's go, you too Sergeant. Lieutenant, we'll stay in touch, once we get some power running, you'll need to initiate some of the systems from here.” He headed for the open doors to the corridor and paused, “Maybe you can find a place to store these unfortunate folks...”

  Their weapons holstered and slung, the group moved with purpose down the corridor they had just traversed, passing the intersecting corridor with the elevators and access tube. Past the open blast doors, the corridor did pitch up, curving right toward the center of the narrow ship and meeting the corridor from the other side of the ship in the center, a duo of metal troughs stretching out into the darkness towards the stern of the ship.

  “Looks like we're on top of the ship,” said Steele stepping down into the closest trough, “this air-car system must be in the spine of the ship.” Closely resembling a subway tunnel, there were few features on the walls or ceiling, the unpowered lights flush with the smooth surfaces. The distance would have begged to be run or at least jogged under normal conditions, but that was impossible without the artificial gravity. Walking in the magnetized boots was laborious and time consuming. With the air car system operational, the trip to the stern would probably take a total of three minutes tops. About every quarter of a mile there was a service platform to either side of the system and it begged the question what for, but Jack hazarded a guess that they provided maintenance access to the mechanisms that held the external cargo containers in place against the hull.

  “Is that a light ahead...?”

  Jack squinted, “I think you're right, but what could it be coming from?” He concentrated on the light, still walking. He remembered an old trick of looking fifteen to twenty degrees to the side of the object for low light detection and the light became more defined but there were no other details.

  “I've got movement...!”

  Jack tried unsuccessfully to identify the voice as weapons were immediately produced, all forward movement stopped, the Marines dropping to a crouch, prone or flattened against the wall of the trough, blading their bodies.