Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  Jack stared hard at the old man. "You knew this would happen..."

  "Yes... I suppose in one form or another, but not exactly when or how. It's not an exact science."

  Jack sighed. "But you couldn't tell me because you thought it might affect how I handled things? Maybe change my decisions, my destiny?"

  "Now who's being omnipotent?" He paused to gaze at the dog. "Well, actually it would not have changed your decisions. You are guided by your heart and conscience. Besides being incredibly imaginative, you have an acute sense of right and wrong which prevents you from being a casual bystander."

  Jack thought about that sense of right and wrong and for the first time in several hours, thought about the death of Joshua Kidd. He felt guilty. Guilty about letting the rage overrun that sense of right and wrong. Overrun, hell, it got trampled to death. That brought him down to the same level of principles as Joshua Kidd, he despised himself for that.

  "Forget what you are thinking, Jack." Voorlak's voice startled the pilot who had been momentarily lost.

  "But I murdered a man in cold blood..."

  The Ancient shook his head, "No... Not a man, more like a rabid animal. And not in cold blood, but in defense of all living beings. It was his destiny and you were just the instrument. It is done and forgotten."

  Jack was stunned. "Forgiven... just like that?"

  “Just like that," confirmed the old man.

  “Can I get that in writing...?”

  "Jack? Who're you talking to?" Steele turned to see Maria walk through the open door followed by Brian, Derrik and Paul.

  "I..." he turned back but Voorlak was gone, "was um, talking to Fritz." He leaned over and rubbed the dog's frame. "Wasn't I boy?"

  ■ ■ ■

  Mike Warren and Professor Edgars shared a room in an infirmary facility, several levels below the one in which Fritz lay. After a refreshing shower and a clean uniform, Jack paid a visit to them with the same group that came up to see Fritz. When the group arrived, Mike and the Professor were in the process of playfully harassing a rather attractive, nurse. She fought valiantly, defending herself against the roaming hands. When Jack told the two men to behave themselves and quiet down, the nurse defended her patients, excusing their behavior due to the drugs they'd been treated with. Both men were happily animated and obviously feeling no pain.

  The surgeon caught Jack and the others in the hall as they left and explained how Mike and the Professor were doing. It seemed beyond the serious burns, Mike also had three broken ribs and a punctured lung from the fall off the wing of the Sweet Susie. His ribs would knit quickly with the aid of an electronic stimulator which accelerates the bone healing process. And using a small patch of healthy skin, a sheet of new skin large enough to cover the damaged area could be grown through a cloning-type process which would eliminate the normal massive scarring.

  Unlike Mike, the Professor had no hidden injuries. Upon healing, he would receive a permanent, completely functional, five fingered, mechanical hand and arm covered with artificial skin. Unless carefully scrutinized he would appear totally normal. Jack was pleased that two men he called friends would return to good health in relatively short time. But since his thoughts never left Fritz for long, it was difficult for him to feel the happiness or relief he should have felt.

  There was much to do after the capture of the pirate cruiser but no matter how tired or busy, Jack found the time to see Fritz every day and spend time with him. After a couple days of stable life signs, the surgeons carefully removed the sections of Fritz's damaged brain tissue. In preparation for what, Jack was unsure, because the surgeons told him little. The only thing he knew was, what they were to attempt was strictly experimental and risky. And like most doctors anywhere, they were careful to not predict the outcome. After the initial surgery, Jack took to sleeping on the same bed as his friend, hoping the companionship would improve the odds of the Shepherd's survival. A week later, Jack entered an empty room and was told Fritz had been placed in a sterile isolation area and could not be visited for some time. Seeing the amazing things accomplished with Mike and the Professor, Jack had no choice but to put his trust in the skill of the doctors. He just wished they'd let him visit his friend.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  FREEDOM: BUBBLEGUM & PAPERCLIPS

  It had been two weeks since the capture of the pirate cruiser, and it was just now beginning to show some resemblance of organization. Jack and Paul stood alone on the bridge and surveyed the system changes. "We've got a long way to go, Jack. These guys beat the piss out of this poor ship, and the repairs they did make, were totally half-assed."

  Jack sunk into the command chair. "I can't believe these people were such slobs... I mean the filth, the garbage, what a pigsty!"

  Paul stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head. "It's a wonder this thing could operate at all. Half the systems were totally inoperative."

  Jack smiled, "No wonder they had to send the fighters to chase down the Princess Hedonist. This tub would've had a hard time catching a cold..."

  "Now, now," joked Paul, waving his finger like somebody’s mother, "that's no way to talk about the Freedom." They had all agreed the new name was appropriate.

  "We should've called it the Ball and Chain," retorted Jack, with a grin. Sometimes it felt like the repairs would take forever.

  Ragnaar strolled through the open doorway onto the bridge and saluted the two officers. He wore the same uniform as Jack and Paul. "Yes, Lieutenant?" asked Paul.

  "Just wanted to let you know, Commander," began the former pirate, "the ship-wide communications net should be finished before the end of the day." Paul nodded his approval, he was getting tired of using messengers for everything.

  "What about the automatic door system?" asked Jack.

  Ragnaar shook his head. "Still got some bugs left, Captain. Could be another day or two." He rubbed his forehead. "We're not sure if it's hardware or software failures yet."

  Jack slouched in his seat and bowed his head. "Geez, how come this stuff was never corrected before?"

  Ragnaar shrugged massive shoulders. "I guess Captain Kidd didn't think it was important enough sir. Besides, he wasn't a man you could say much to either. I saw him kill a man at dinner once, for spilling the Captain's drink."

  "You're kidding!" said Paul.

  "No, sir."

  Jack sat up properly. "Brother, what a psychopath. Well, Lieutenant, from now on, there'll be no killing at the dinner table."

  Ragnaar smiled, "The crew will be glad to hear that sir." He saluted and left the bridge.

  "I kinda like him," said Jack.

  "I knew you would," said Paul, "the whole bunch are good people. Makes you wonder what they were doing with Kidd."

  "Shanghaied probably," guessed Jack.

  About twenty five crew members had followed Ragnaar's example and volunteered to serve under Jack Steele's leadership. Their services proved extremely valuable, as most were skilled workers and technicians who knew the ship well. They were finally encouraged to work on a ship they'd been forced to neglect in the past, and they worked in earnest.

  Brian, dressed in dirty coveralls and covered in grease, strolled onto the bridge. "Hey! Guess what?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Launch tube two is fixed! It's working like a charm. Wanna' see?"

  "Sure," chimed the two men. They needed to go down to the landing bay and check the Warthog fighters anyway.

  As they walked down the corridor, they passed the ship's servants in the process of cleaning up two years of neglect. The porters, most of them women, spent their years aboard the cruiser as slaves and concubines for the crew. Unpaid, unwashed and malnourished, only the youngest and most attractive, received any care at all. Handed dow
n from the officers to the lower ranks of the crew when discarded like old clothes, their fate was ultimately the same. Neglect and ill health. When the ship was captured, they were all released and given their freedom. Paid work with guaranteed care, as porters, maids and cooks, was made available on the ship for any who desired it. It was surprising to see how many of the women returned.

  As the men approached a woman scrubbing the wall padding, she paused her chores and greeted them politely. They returned the greeting and walked on. "Y'know," said Jack, after they'd passed, "it's amazing what you can accomplish with a little respect." Most of the corridors had been cleaned and scrubbed to near perfection. The wall padding, which reached from about knee height to about shoulder height, went from shades of dirty gray, back to white, an incredible transformation. Even the carpeting came clean, changing from a muddy gray to a nice, light, blue-gray. Much to everyone’s surprise, the ship was actually becoming livable.

  As the three men passed through one of the automatic doors which segmented the corridors for safety, the door slid back and forth spasmodically, the system lights lighting simultaneously. "Can't believe these were left inoperable," grumbled Brian. "What an idiot." And he was right. The doors were meant to seal off segments of the corridors in an emergency, atmosphere contamination, fire, a hull breach, even protection against hostile boarding parties. The system lights next to the door would advise how severe the hazard was on the other side and how limited the access. Leaving the doors inoperative was inviting disaster. "Who's working on them?" asked Brian, indicating the epileptic door.

  "Can't think of his name," said Paul scratching his head. "Tall, skinny guy, dark skin, glasses..."

  Brian nodded, "Yeah, I know who that is. But I can't think of his name either."

  They stopped at the elevator and Jack pushed the button. "That's terrible, we've got to get to know these people better." He hated forgetting names. To him, it was like saying that person was not worth remembering.

  "Don't worry," said Paul as the trio stepped onto the elevator. "We will. It takes a little time."

  The ship was divided into four main levels, the fifth only extended about half the length of the ship at the belly, it was strictly for cargo. The elevator took them from level one, where the bridge was, to level four. Level four held pilot's on-call quarters, flight briefing, ready rooms, flight and landing bay, launch chutes, hangars, and everything else that went along with flight operations, including maintenance and repair.

  While not the same size as the mind boggling dimensions of the Princess's bay, the Freedom's bay was sizable at just short of three football fields long and a little over one wide. Bright orange sodium floodlights lit up the common areas of the landing bay, with a greater concentration of white floods and spotlights in the hangars along the outer walls, to illuminate the mechanics shops and the parked fighters. The only place dimly lit was the prep and launch area which had red lighting to prepare the pilots' eyes for the darkness of space.

  After Brian displayed his handy work, the three pilots strolled the empty flight deck and hangars. They stopped in front of a work shuttle and watched the mechanics tinker. "All this room," began Paul, "and all we got is four lousy fighters..." He kicked at an invisible pebble on the deck.

  "Five," interrupted Brian, pointing at another under a tarp.

  "It don't fly," blurted the mechanic, who didn't bother to stop tinkering, his head and arms buried in an open access panel at the front of the shuttle.

  "So fix it."

  "Piece'a junk," countered the mechanic. "In fact, don't think it ever flew. Use it for parts though."

  Jack walked over and lifted the tarp, the fighter was full of blast holes. Its canopy was missing and it sat on an anti-grav cargo palette because its landing gear had been torn off. "Whoever used it last, didn't take very good care of it..."

  "It used to be Kidd's," said a passing crewman. "He was a lousy pilot." Everyone had a decent chuckle, even the mechanic, who was pretending not to listen. It was obvious, Kidd wasn't popular, even with his own crew.

  "Captain!"

  Jack turned on his heel. "Trigoss! I was just thinking about going to look for you. How's the outer hull coming along?" Using plate steel that had been found in a dark corner of the Freedom's cargo bay, the engineers of the Princess Hedonist had been making structural repairs on the old battle damage of the aging cruiser.

  Trigoss waited until he got closer. "Not bad, Jack. Not bad at all. We should have it finished in about a week. And with material to spare."

  "Wow, that's great!" Jack paused. "Look, are you sure Gant doesn't mind you guys giving us all this help? I don't want to get you guys in hot water."

  The burly engineer dismissed the thought with a wave of a ham-sized hand, "Not a bit. In fact, he's kind of tickled. Besides, we're all doing it on our off duty hours." Trigoss shifted and lowered his voice. "Listen, Jack, I've been thinking. The Princess doesn't really need me. They've got a whole slew of good engineers. I'm usually bored to tears, nothing challenging. Y'know..?"

  It suddenly dawned on Jack that the man was thinking about giving up his career to join the crew of the Freedom. "Wait a minute T, I can't ask you to..."

  "Look, Jack," interrupted the engineer. "I got no family ties... I'm bored silly here, and besides I've got the experience. You need a good... no, scratch that. You need an excellent engineer to hold this tin can together. You find me a decent bone yard and we just might be able to scrounge enough parts to make this wreck worth something."

  "What about stability, your pension..."

  "Who needs it," said Trigoss shrugging his shoulders. "I've been a military brat all my life. I gave them thirty years, then they dumped me for mandatory retirement." He paused as if he was rechecking the dates in his mind. "And, do you know I've been waiting almost ten years to give those lousy pirates the kind of bloody nose you gave them in one damn evening? Hell, Jack, you're a natural. But it won't do any good if your ship disintegrates beneath your feet. Besides," he added, smirking, "I want to be around when you do it again."

  "Ok, Ok," conceded Jack, holding up his hands, “I surrender already, you've got the job. Chief Engineer, ok?"

  "Thanks!" With a wave, he bounded off in the direction he came.

  "Geez!" exclaimed Brian, "you'd think you just gave the guy a couple million bucks or something." Jack was speechless and Paul just shook his head.

  "Anybody feel like eating? I'm starved!"

  The three startled pilots turned around to face the familiar voice and saw Mike striding towards them in full uniform. "Mike!" they exclaimed in unison. "How'ya doin'? How'ya feeling?" The questions came in a verbal torrent.

  Mike backed up, his hands in front of him. "Easy fellas, no hugs if you don’t mind. Doc says I can come out and play, but no rough stuff." The four men laughed and it felt good. "Say, where's Derrik? I'm supposed to tell him the Professor gets out tomorrow."

  "Does he have his new arm?"

  "Not yet, Pappy," answered Mike. "They're still working on it. He'll get it in a day or so." The four men chatted comfortably as they strolled across the bay toward the elevator which would take them to the galley, the one place on the ship which had been properly maintained. "I don't get it," queried Mike, "only four birds to fly?"

  "Yep," nodded Brian, "and one wreck to pull parts from."

  "Once upon a time," ventured Paul, "this ship probably held fifteen to twenty. Probably different types too."

  "Old records," began Jack, "showed it originally held fourteen. There were twelve active, with two additional in reserve. Look, don't worry about it," he promised. "We'll acquire a few more."

  Brian pushed the button for the elevator. "How?"

  Jack smirked as they stepped i
nto the lift, "Oh, I've got an idea or two."

  Paul groaned, "I don't think I like the sound of that."

  Mike rubbed his ribs absentmindedly. "I didn't like the sound of it last time." Their laughter echoed in the elevator car.

  ■ ■ ■

  Lunch was a pretty substantial spread, delicious food and lots of it. Well laid out, it delighted the eyes, the aromas enticed the nose, and the flavors didn't disappoint. Marna, the chef, was a rather small, odd looking woman with shiny gray skin and deep-set glassy eyes. She demanded perfection, controlling the kitchen and dining area like a croupier handling a deck of cards. She watched the food preparers and porters like a hawk. No wine glass went unfilled. No table wanted for anything.

  As she explained to Jack, though it was not normally quite this extravagant, the one thing pirates did very well was eat. She had wanted to show the combined appreciation of the female portion of the crew for their freedom, and this was the best way that they could think of to make the new officers and crew feel welcome.

  Jack looked around him... there were his people, members of the old pirate crew and members of the Princess's crew that were helping out. All of them chatting amiably and eating happily. But other than the porters, there were no women to be seen, save Maria, Raulya and Myomerr. Jack inquired about this and was told females had never been allowed to dine with the crew they ate what was left, after everyone else was finished.

  Jack stood up and raised his glass, ringing it like a bell with a spoon. Everyone stopped eating and the room grew quiet. He saw Ragnaar at the next table watching him closely. "I have been told the Captain used to kill people at dinner." There was silence. "I find that to be a very rude habit...” Light scattered laughter spread through the group. "Well that type of behavior will not be tolerated on this ship!" There was more scattered laughter and applause, but Jack raised his hand to quiet them down, which they did. "I have also been told, women were not allowed in the galley until the men are finished eating.” He looked around. “What the hell? Seriously? You don't like girls? Whose dumbass idea was that?" Laughter rolled through the galley, the idea had been Kidd's of course. "Well that stops now! And," he added, grinning, "anyone who doesn't like that, I will kill... out in the corridor of course, and after dinner." The laughter now came easily to them and Jack realized he'd succeeded in breaking the ice, making them all a bit more comfortable.