“Aye, sir. An Obsidian Class light cruiser and a Drifter Class frigate... Both not ours.”
“Hit the frigate, take that bloody bastard out!” Walt's hope was to take the frigate out quickly, leaving the lone cruiser against three larger ships. The Freedom rocked hard as she took hits from both the cruiser and the frigate.
“Shields, twenty-five percent...”
■ ■ ■
Jack and Paul saw the gate event from their vantage point on the outside of their turn as they came back in on the melee surrounding the Freedom. “Skipper...”
“I see 'em, let's go.” Jack pulled up, abandoning his attack run, rolled over and looked at the fight upside down. Side by side, the two Vulcans arced over the task force to come down on top of the pirate newcomers. “Yellow Flight, engage that cruiser!”
“Yellow Leader, copy that. Engaging the cruiser...” The two Lancias and Remaining Zulu broke free of their strafing attacks on the drone fighters and headed for the cruiser.
“Skipper, the big boys are targeting the frigate...”
“Copy, and her shields are almost down, Pappy. Let's finish her off.” Jack rolled his Vulcan and brought her nose to bear, Pappy dropping back and swinging wide to his right, both fighters jinking and weaving to avoid point defense fire.
“Bridge to Green Flight... Captain, we have two-hundred more drones inbound, shields at five percent, we're taking hits...”
Fuck me... “Copy, Freedom,” replied Jack through clenched teeth, “just keep firing. I'm about to erase one of those problems, now.” He came straight down on the frigate from the top, targeting the spine of the hull between the engines, calling up two of his four missiles, arming them as he dove in. The Vulcan's weapons lock hummed in his helmet. “Guns, guns, guns...” he growled as he squeezed the trigger and held it, purple streaks dancing across the frigate's shields. And suddenly, just before the guns' power pods ran dry, he was hitting unprotected hull plating. He flipped up the button cover on his flight stick and thumbed loose a missile, “Fox three. Fox three is away...” he switched to another, and thumbed again, “Fox three, fox three number two running hot...” he pulled up hard, corkscrewing, his Vulcan bucking from the shock wave following him up. Without looking back, he could see the glow around him reflecting off his canopy and his instruments.
“Frigate down!” called Pappy, “frigate down! You blew her entire stern off, Skipper!”
■ ■ ■
The Freedom rocked hard, the impact sounded different, metallic, harder. “Shields down! Shields down! Port Engine damaged.”
“Commander, another flight of two-hundred drones, contact in sixty seconds...”
“Bloody lovely,” commented Walt, “keep the lads firing.”
The pirate cruiser was momentarily silhouetted against the blackness by the intense flash from the frigate behind her, a glowing shock halo swelling outward, slowly fading back to black. “The frigate is down, Commander!... The cruiser is altering course, taking hits from Yellow Flight and the Archer, her shields down to twenty-five percent.”
“Let it go,” ordered Walt, “all guns and all flights to bear on these bloody flying bugs...” Their numbers shrinking, they continued to relentlessly circle the Freedom, their lasers scorching her naked, unshielded outer plating.
“Redirecting assets, aye.”
The ship shuddered like a boxer taking a heavy hit. “Port engine is down, repeat port engine offline.”
“Drone contact in thirty seconds...”
Ringing alarm bells sounded throughout the ship signaling a fire on board. “Fire! Fire in the port engine room!”
“Get the fire crews down there!” Walt grit his teeth, there were still more than fifty drones pounding on them now. In their present condition, the Freedom was not going survive a fresh fleet of two hundred more.
“The cruiser is initiating a jump.”
“Fine,” replied Walt, “let it go.”
“Fire team reporting in... fire is out of control. They're initiating an emergency vent to space.” The members of the fire team blew a specially designed emergency hatch rigged with explosive bolts off the side of the ship, a hundred foot flame jetting out through the opening. And then it was gone. The port engine room would be off limits for at least an hour while the heat dissipated. Any entry might cause a flash re-ignition with fresh air entering a fuel-laden superheated area.
“We have shields back up, ten percent.” The drone reinforcements descended on the Freedom with a vengeance, and the shields lasted but a few short minutes. The Vulcans, Lancias and Zulu swept in and out of the swarm, gunning automated fighters to pieces on each pass, risking fire from their own ships, jinking and zig-zagging to avoid collisions.
And then it all just... stopped. The unmanned fighters drifted lifelessly through space in the direction of their last heading, crashing into the Freedom's hull and disintegrating, crashing or bumping into each other, floating away. The Freedom ploughed through their waves of silver like a ship through water, pushing them away, leaving an open wake behind it of broken and shattered bodies.
Walt called up the weapons screen on his command chair, “As long as these blasted things are asleep, let's reroute all power from guns to shields. Get them back up.”
“Aye, Commander, rerouting power.”
“Commander, we have an incoming signal from Red Leader,” Stacell shifted in her seat, “and we have an incoming signal from Blue Leader.”
“It's bloody well time...”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RESURRECTION STATION, IRUJEN SYSTEM: FINDERS KEEPERS
It had never happened before. Ever. The UFW capturing a pirate station. It was one of those minor details the Directorate had never considered, much less anticipated. So with a little bit of trepidation, they embraced the success. And with a little bit of encouragement carefully mixed with some finely crafted direction, the Directorate saw the value in keeping it, dispatching two of their newest Comet Class, fast missile frigates. The ships were expected to arrive in about four days, which as far as Jack was concerned couldn't come soon enough. Two-thirds of the task force was rather battered, and he was feeling a little vulnerable babysitting an unarmed station.
Resurrection Station, so named by the members of the task force, had, in its previous life, been enormous luxury liner. In fact, it was much like the nearly two mile long, Princess Hedonist, that spirited Jack and his group away from Earth. Of course, it had changed more than a little, converted by the pirates that had hijacked her, into a semi-mobile space station. Taking advantage of that mobility, it was agreed upon it would be best to relocate the station to another planet's orbit to reduce the likelihood of any pirate surprise visits.
The entire station had been evacuated by the time Red and White Flights converged on it, leaving the station and the drone fleet on automated control. The shuttles and small ships disappearing in the distance were no immediate threat. The Freedom's flight leaders' main priorities being to secure the station and stop the drone onslaught, so no pursuits were made, the fleeing ships disappearing unmolested. Upon finding the relay beacon carefully hidden in a slowly drifting asteroid debris field, Blue Flight was able to sever the communications between the automated fighters and the station. The relay signal had been so powerful, it had interfered with their own communications to their task force and they had no knowledge of the severity of the situation until after they'd destroyed the damn thing.
Under its own power, it took almost forty-eight hours to move the station to its new location, accompanied by the task force. While en-route to its new placement, the station came in range of the abandoned drones. A temporary skeleton crew had been assembled from the ships in the task force to run the station and they were able to call the surviving units back, recovering them. The pirates had not yet had time to equip the station with any other defenses than the unmanned fighters, but had stocked it well, with almost a thousand units. Including what had been recovered, there were somewhere in th
e neighborhood of five-hundred left. They wouldn't know for sure until they took an inventory, which Jack decided would be left to the new crew that would take over the station to staff it.
It was an obvious choice for Gantarro to move the station with his experience on similar ships. Once it was moved, positioned and set to orbit the new planet, his expertise was no longer needed on the bridge of the station and he was able to return to the Bowman to oversee the repairs. The station was freshly equipped with a brand new exterior repair bay and gantry setup suitable for anything under the size of a full carrier.
Examining the plans found in the control tower, it appeared they fully intended to install another repair bay on the opposite side of the station's hull. The blueprints also contained renovations to the flight and storage bays to house fighters and assault ships as well as a new automatic racking system for stowing the drone fleet. There were indications for an improved defensive shield system and gun turrets as well. All-in-all, the plans were pretty good, the UFW would do well to follow through with them. Stripping the pirate frigate they'd killed would be a good start for parts. Generators, power cell systems, gun turrets, many of those things could be reused. Of course, Jack's big curiosity lay in recovering the GOD drive system if it was still intact. The engines were a total loss, blown completely off the ship. But hopefully it was located farther forward within the ship's hull.
■ ■ ■
Gantarro poked his head through the control tower's open door. “OK, Jack, she's all set up. Three of my people will do shifts on the bridge until the staff arrives. There's not much to do but they will monitor the systems and make sure she stays in her orbit.”
“Thanks my friend.” Jack rose from the control desk he'd adopted to oversee the work until the new crews arrived. “You heading back to the Bowman?”
Gant nodded,”I want to see how bad she is...”
“Well the station only has four Rhinos but we've got them working on her already,” he checked his watch. “They'll be out there for about another four hours before we have to pull them in for a recharge.”
“I appreciate you handling the Bowman first.”
Jack waved it off, “We have our own Rhino...”
“Really? How did you manage that?”
“Blackmount forgot one. The guys noticed it on our hull when they were coming back from that dustup in Klinghoffer. We were able to pull it into the bay and my Chief was able to recharge and reprogram it.”
Gant smiled, shaking his head, the familiar sparkle in his sapphire eyes, “A capti vita....”
Jack nodded, a charmed life.
■ ■ ■
The pirates had altered the interior flight tower of the ship to extend through the hull with a second level, standing fifty feet above the outer hull. This station-level alteration enabled the traffic controller on duty to view the approach and docking of ships entering the interior bay, as well as the external repair dock. It presented a pretty spectacular view and Jack had used it earlier to guide the Bowman into the repair dock. Lining her up with the stasis transmitters to capture her hull, he could easily remotely control and connect the extendable gangway tube, preparing her for the repair work she needed.
Moving back to the inner tower and securing the hatches to the upper tower, Jack settled in to study the plans and coordinate operations until the station had a proper staff. His earpiece chimed, “Freedom tower to Captain Steele.”
“Go ahead.”
“Skipper, can I swap you a loaded Cyclone for your Vulcan? I'd really like to get it out with the other one for long patrols. Y'know, because they're faster...”
Jack looked out of the station's tower window down at his Vulcan sitting on the deck below. “Sure, Pappy, no problem.”
“I'll be sending out two pairs at a time to do patrols.”
“Sounds good. If we have anyone we can spare who can do a little programming and setup, send them over. Maybe we can get a flight of drones out there too. I'd like to improve their tactics a bit though.”
“You're not gonna like it...”
“Like what?” asked Jack.
“Well, Hecken Noer is swamped. But you already knew that. And most of the engineers are busy...”
“Yeah, what's your point?”
“I'm pretty sure Maria can do it.”
Jack palmed his face and groaned before activating his mic. “Uuuhhh...” he pondered, pulling on his lower lip. He really didn't want to have to deal with her. “Oh, man... Is she around? Can she hear me?”
“Nope.”
Jack sighed, “OK. But if she gives me one bit of lip, so help me God...”
He could hear Paul laughing. “No problem. I'll make it understood.”
“Thanks.” Steele rubbed the bridge of his nose; he was hoping he wasn't going to regret this decision. He yawned, damn why am I so tired? He checked his watch, Ahh, no sleep in twenty hours... that would do it... “Pappy, you still there..?”
“Roger,” came the reply.
“Can you send some food over too? For about twenty-five people. And some fresh clothes for me?”
“Gotcha covered, big guy, it's already on the shuttle. And it's headed over now.”
“You da bomb, Pappy.”
Marine Warrant Officer Dayle Alaroot knocked on the doorway of the control tower's open door. “Skipper?”
“Hey Dayle,” Jack waved wearily, “c'mon in, have a seat.”
Dayle dropped into one of the control officers' chairs at a console and swiveled it around. “We got all the survivors off the frigate and tucked them in for the night.” He leaned forward, his carbine lying across his lap.
“How many do we have?”
“Thirty-seven. The brig they built here will actually hold about a hundred comfortably. Two-hundred if you want to pack 'em in.”
“Geez, that's huge. Any wounded?”
“Nah, either dead or alive, no in-betweens.”
Jack frowned, “That's kinda odd...”
“Yeah, I thought so too. But we checked the whole damn boat...”
“Did you have any problems? Any resistance?”
Dayle shook his head, “None at all. They knew their ship was a goner, Hell, you blew the whole stern off. I think they were glad to get off her. By the way, why are we holding onto her? I saw the Archer out there patrolling around her.”
“Blackmount Station is lending us a tug and crew so we can move the ship here. We're going to salvage her for parts. The Resurrection can use the turrets and extra shield generators, the power systems... And I want to have a look at that GOD drive.”
Lights on the control board blinked. “Freedom Shuttle One, to Resurrection Tower. We're two, on final approach, single file.”
Steele stood up to view the bay below, flipping on the approach and runway lights, dimming the bay's overhead floods. “You're both clear, Shuttle One. Bear right after entrance, the left is full.” He looked at the rows of silver drone fighters clogging the left half of the bay. It was going to be a while before he didn't hate those things.
■ ■ ■
He didn't think it was possible, but after refueling and relaunching a hundred of the silver unmanned fighters, he hated them even more. He lay back on the bed in the quarters of the Air Boss just down the corridor from the control tower and stared at the ceiling with drowsy eyes. He contemplated getting undressed, taking a shower, and... he was asleep before finishing the thought.
Maria and Jack hadn't spoken more than a handful of words and she felt like she was literally walking on eggshells. In bare feet. Of course, she was thankful to have her room confinement lifted and actually be able to contribute something, but it wasn't actually what she had in mind. She learned mechanical coding while attending Harvard in their Biorobotics Lab and she was relatively sure after looking at it she could understand and manipulate the code for the drone fighters, but she'd rather be doing almost anything else. Coding wasn't particularly enjoyable but she knew how important this was to defendin
g the unarmed station. The coding for friend and foe recognition was easy and she made the programming adjustments before they sent the flight of a hundred units out on patrol. They would follow their patrol programming for the next twelve hours before returning to the station to refuel. Having placed a new signal relay beacon in the same debris field where they had found the first gave them range of about seventy percent of the system.
Now came the hard part. Improving their tactics, both offensively and defensively. She was also supposed to attempt to improve their situational awareness and collision avoidance subroutines. A tall order. Tactically, it was a matter of assigning prioritization to different types of targets, types and level of threats, as well as values to their targeting subroutines. She named her test programming, What to shoot at, when, why and how. Then another test routine, How not to crash. Maria sat at the programming console down on the flight deck near the drone storage racks, two drones hovering in the center of the bay, facing each other.
Followed by four repair Rhinos plodding across the deck, Marine Draza Mac was happy to be sporting his new Sergeant stripes. He walked the four units across the deck and directed them all into a large revetment stall designed for their maintenance. Two more Marines came down to the deck from the control tower to assist the Sergeant in swapping out the Rhinos' spent power cells from the ones sitting in the charging trays. Being their first time at the task, it took almost an hour to make the swap, get the Rhinos back online and headed back off toward the Bowman to resume the repairs. “No sweat, guys,” volunteered Draza Mac, “we'll be faster the next time,” he locked a spent power cell into the charger and plugged it in.
“How long do they run?” asked the Marine Private watching the parade of four Rhinos heading back across the deck towards the gantry walkway.
“Six to Eight hours,” replied Draza Mac, “depending on how much welding or heavy lifting they're doing.”
Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) Page 18
