Jack glanced at the plotting screen on his console's monitor. The cruisers had slowed but were gaining with ease, the Freedom was still four minutes to the storm front.
"This escort you speak of..."
"Marines," interrupted Kelarez with patience, "would take over all operations of your ship. You and your crew would be confined to quarters."
Prisoners on our own ship, thought Jack. How nice. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "just how far is this Phi Lanka?"
Ragnaar turned around and scowled at his Captain, thinking him serious. The others were none so sure either. Only Paul, Mike and Brian knew what he was up to.
"Phi Lanka is only about two weeks away," replied Kelarez.
"Here it comes," whispered Paul to Mike.
"Well there is a problem," explained Jack, "we seem to be having some propulsion problems. It would require total shutdown for a day or so, to sufficiently make repairs to complete the trip..."
Captain Kelarez raised one eyebrow, his patience running short. "We would have to bring your crew aboard then, and leave it here. Or destroy it." He added.
"Oh I couldn't do that..." bemoaned Jack. "They love this ship... isn't there some other way? Couldn't you tow it with a tractor beam or something?" He glanced down at the plotting monitor and back up.
Paul, Mike and Brian, exchanged silent glances.
Kelarez frowned, "A tractor beam? What kind of foolishness is this? I think you've been stalling and playing me for an idiot, Captain. I am not. Do not mistake my kindness for weakness... I have run out of patience, and you have run out of time. Surrender or die, choose now."
"Stand by," said Jack, “let me consult my bridge officers,” he added, turning his back on the screen. "Audio off, Ms. Stacell."
With his back to the screen, Jack addressed the crew on a ship-wide comm. "We are faced with a dilemma, people. To surrender or not to surrender. That is the question. And I don't feel I can make this decision for all of us." He took a deep breath. "I don't want anyone to think of the word coward... as far as I'm concerned, no one on this ship could remotely fit that description. But if there is even one person that thinks we should give in, speak now... and that will be the course we will take." There was absolute silence, save for the hiss of the open comm channel. He waited. But the silence was his answer.
Steele motioned to Stacell and the comm was replaced by vidcom audio as he turned back toward the screen. "Captain Kelarez, in World War Two, General Anthony McAuliffe had a reply for a similar situation as this... NUTS!"
Kelarez raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"
Jack smiled, "Well, as Winston Curchill once put it, ...we shall defend our island whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and streets, we shall fight in the hills, we shall never surrender... Well, sir, this is our island and we will not surrender...”
"He's nuts..." whispered Paul.
"It's a practiced talent," commented Brian.
"Have it your way, Captain!" shouted Kelarez, red faced. The screen went blank.
"Hard to port!" snapped Jack, straightening up. The horizon swung producing a blur of colors. The storm front so large now, it seemed endless to the left, right, above and below. The Freedom shuddered and lurched, the fire from the cruisers closer than before.
"They're being careful to stay out of our range, Jack."
"I know, Walt. Helm, hard Starboard..." As the bow began to swing back, the ship bounced forward, shaking her hard enough to make people hold on to anything solid. Jack sat back down.
"Direct hit," announced Raulya. "No damage, stern shields down to sixty percent."
“A couple more of those and we're done for." said Walt, rather matter-of-factly.
"Helm, nose down!" The bow of the Freedom pitched forward. "Get those shields back up, Lieutenant." Jack knew she didn't need to be told, but it felt better to say it. The ship wavered as another volley of fire passed over the Freedom and glanced against the stern shields.
"Sixty-percent and holding..."
The Archer and the Bowman had taken up stern flanking positions to limit the Freedom's evasive maneuvers. It would only be a few moments until their gunners were able to predict their target's next move.
"Engineering to bridge, she's in the red now, I don't know how much longer she'll hold out..."
"Just a few more minutes, Chief, she's just gotta'..."
"I'm doing all I can, Jack, she just doesn't have any more."
"Hold on, Chief, just hold on!" The laser fire came in bursts now, bracketing above and below the Freedom's hull, as the helmsman did his best to be unpredictable. Laboring, she began to slow as her remaining engine began to overheat beyond its capacity to operate. She bucked hard under a direct hit, then another.
"StErn shields fifteen-percent..." Raulyas voice cracked. She decided she preferred hand to hand combat.
The front moved faster toward them than they did to it. They were so close, Jack felt like he could reach out and touch it. "Just a little farther, baby..." whispered Jack. The deck shook hard under his seat, and the ship lurched sideways under a secondary explosion.
"Shields down!” yelled Raulya.
"We're still under power though," stated the Professor.
Jack punched the comm button. "What was that, Chief?"
"The rest of Number One just took a direct. It's completely gone. You got five minutes left, tops, on Number Three." The connection beeped off.
"We're in! We're in!"
Jack looked up from his console as the nose penetrated the forward veils of the storm. "Quixetta, hard to port and nose down on my command." This had to be timed just right. "Stern turrets, are you still at stations?" He received confirmation that they were. "Evacuate. All but one, I need a volunteer as a spotter." He needed someone to tell him when they were solidly enveloped, otherwise the maneuver might not work.
"They're closing in." said Raulya. "They don't want to lose us."
"Don't recharge," advised Jack, "but let the main turrets fire when they're in range." She nodded and relayed the message to the gunners.
"I've got ten-percent back on stern shields."
"Good." Jack rubbed his hands together nervously. "We just might make it yet."
"Fire!" yelled Raulya. The bridge crew could hear the distinct zzwuump, zzwuump of the main gun batteries on either side of the hull as they returned fire, vibrating the floor.
"Captain!" Startled, Jack looked up from his plot screen showing the fading positions of the three ships. Emerging from the squall line of the storm, was the bow of a huge carrier, so close, Jack figured he could heave a stone as far. "It's UFW!" shouted Ragnaar. The logo on the hull was enormous.
"Hard to starboard!" ordered Jack. The ships would pass port to port.
"Their weapons are on line!" breathed Raulya. "Their shields are up!"
"We're sunk..." muttered the Professor.
Paul, Mike and Brian, stood speechless at its awesome size. It literally bristled with guns.
"How did they know?" asked Ensign Quixetta.
"They didn't..." To Jack, it was more a gut feeling than really knowing. "Stacell, open a channel quick!" A moment later the face of a grizzled old officer, appeared on the screen, the picture broken and distorted from the storm's interference. Jack couldn't see the Vice Admiral's rank pips.
"This is the Conquest, what can I do for you, Captain?"
"Pirates!" shouted Jack, feigning terror. Actually he was closer to desperation, but it made for great inspiration. "Right behind us... Help us! Please, we're heavily damaged..."
"Easy, Captain, what are their coordinates?" Jack read off the coordinates
for the two cruisers, and the Vice Admiral could hear the zzwuump, zzwuump of the Freedom's gun batteries in the background. "What kind of ship are you?"
Jack wanted to avoid that question. "Hurry, please," he pleaded, "our shields are down. One more hit and we're done for..!"
The Vice Admiral paused for a moment, trying to see Jack's face on his own screen through the distortion. He made his decision. He half turned toward his crew, "Battle stations" he said casually. The screen went blank.
"Cease fire!" instructed Jack. "Helm, swing to port and cross behind the carrier as we pass. Then straight again. We'll keep her between us and the cruisers." Steele took a deep breath as the carrier's guns flashed, throwing green and red streaks past the Freedom, making the nebulous clouds of ether glow around them. "Sorry Kelarez," he said under his breath, "maybe some other time." He blinked hard and looked up but there was nothing left to see on his monitor. The storm obscured all. "Helm, drop to half power."
"Sir?" Ensign Quixetta turned in his seat. "We're adrift, I just lost all power."
"Shit." Jack fingered the comm button, "Chief?"
"Sorry Captain," came the reply, "that's all she wrote..."
"Dammit. Ok. Quixetta, power up the thrusters, we need to put some distance between us." Jack hoped there would be enough confusion between the carrier and the cruisers that it would allow the Freedom to slip away before they could regroup and set up a search pattern. He watched the Ensign make the course adjustments and start the thrusters, but in the drifting, swirling clouds, the ship's movement was undetectable.
Static lightning flashed through the murk, and Jack turned his attention back to the comm. "Chief, you've got your work cut out for you. Use whatever parts you've got and see if you can bring one of those engines up. In about ten to twelve hours, we'll shut down and drift until we can get that other generator on line too. We might as well use this storm as cover..."
"Right." Trigoss paused. "Y'know I could really use some help down here, some good, strong backs."
"You got it, Chief." Jack keyed off. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair as the tension begin to ebb. He took a deep cleansing breath. Thanks to God and a well placed storm, he'd managed it again.
Lightning flashed again and Jack narrowed his eyes at the momentary shapes in the swirling mass. Then nothing. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He should let everyone stand down. Ragnaar had said these storms could last for hours. Even days. "Raula," Steele began, "relieve..."
There was a flash like lightning and a jolt that sent him sprawling onto the floor of the command pit. "Stern shields are down!" He could hear Raulya saying.
"Thrusters off line..." said another voice. Jack struggled to his knees, his world was red. Holding the back of Ragnaar's seat he tried to regain his footing against the moving deck, but the peal of the bell in his head matched the pain above his left eye, where the skin puckered and the blood ran freely. He did not hear the clamor that surrounded him, his world dissolved into a dull, fuzzy grayness.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
UFW LIBERATOR CLASS CRUISER, ARCHER: CALO ALTO SYSTEM
"Captain, we've struck something!"
Kelarez raised an eyebrow. "No, really?" He waved his hand angrily, "How about telling me something useful... like a damage report!"
"Starboard engine nacelle crushed," stated the engineer, saving the navigator from further rebuff. "That engine is off line."
"Get it back," growled Kelarez.
"Sorry, Captain," continued his First Engineer, "nothing we can do out here, it'll have to wait till we get back to base. It's an exterior repair requiring dock and gantry."
The UFW Commander slid back in his chair and silently cursed the Vice Admiral in the UFW carrier for ordering his ship into the storm. "Take us out of this soup, Mr. Hanett."
"Yes, Sir!" The Ensign was as glad as anyone to be leaving the storm.
There was no way of telling what it was that they'd struck. The carrier, debris, Steele's ship... And at this point, what did it matter? Kelarez knew of only one instance of a ship being successfully tracked through an ether storm like this. The UFW destroyer had emerged in pirate territory, chasing his pirate quarry straight into a pirate fleet. The destroyer and its crew narrowly escaped, only by going back the way it came... into the storm.
The images of that armada flashed through Kelarez's mind. Almost lost my ass on that one, he reflected.
"Get your cruisers back in there, Captain! Find that bastard!" The Vice Admiral's lined face scowled at Kelarez from the view screen. "Nobody plays me for a fool!"
Of course not, you fat moron, thought Kelarez. "I'm sorry, sir, but between the damage you inflicted on us and damage from the collision, we must return to base for repairs." His voice was even and respectful, but his eyes spoke volumes of animosity for the man. The Vice Admiral was not a field commander, just a desk potato looking for a field service bar and a promotion before retirement. Vince Kelarez turned to his communications officer. "Ms. Notsobe, send a message to the Bowman, fall in, we're returning to base."
"You are a coward, Kelarek," spat the Vice Admiral, "I will see you court-martialed! I'll have your pips in my hand! I'll see that you lose your command!" He paused his tirade and turned away. "Tell the Bowman to get back here! Where's it going?!"
"Vice Admiral," interrupted Kelarez, "the Bowman is under my command and will only follow my orders. So I suggest if you want Steele's ship you'd better go in and get it yourself." He adjusted his tunic. "And if you're going to court-martial me, you'd better get my name right. It's KELAREZ, not Kelarek." He turned to his comm officer and drew a line across his throat with his thumb. She ended the vidcom connection. "Navigation," he said, turning back. "Plot a course for Yarwa Station. Helm, take us there." Kelarez took a deep breath and relaxed as the Bowman pulled into cruising formation. The Captain was not a coward, not by a long shot. He just knew that sometimes discretion was the better part of valor.
"Think he'll catch Steele?" asked the navigator as they watched the carrier disappear back into the ether storm.
"No," said Kelarez, "the Vice Admiral couldn't hope to catch a cold, standing naked on an ice planet in the middle of winter. Besides, Steele has too much luck." He's good too, he thought.
The Ensign nodded thoughtfully... "Do you think the Vice Admiral will really court-martial you?"
Kelarez ran his fingers across the row of gold pips on his collar. "I'm sure he'll try, but after we tell the brass at Phi Lanka he fired at his own cruisers, I think he'll cease to be a problem." Vince Kelarez had an exemplary and decorated field career. There were many benefits to this, primarily the honor of credibility that rose above mere rank.
He headed for his ready room to study his charts. Good luck, Captain Steele, he thought, I look forward to meeting you again. Maybe someday we'll get a chance to tip a glass and toast to our health. Kelarez couldn't help but admire the admittedly odd but tenacious Earth man.
After setting the program, Vince Kelarez sat back and put his feet up. He knew this might take awhile and closed his eyes. The holochart flickered on and began to search the vast stores of its memory to find in the great expanses of the universe, a quiet sector of space containing a small, little traveled planet... called Earth.
■ ■ ■
The first thing Steele noticed was the dull pain above his left eye that seemed to reach deep into his skull. Trying to open his eyes made it sharper, so he stopped. Wherever he was, it was warm. It was dark. And it was very, very quiet. He tried to think back, but that hurt too. As he lay there, he slowly became aware of weight upon his body, the sound of steady breathing. He tried to reach out with his left hand and found that he could not. But his right hand was free. It felt as if it were made of lead, but it mov
ed.
Jack touched the body that lay across his. "Fritzer?" The weight shifted as the dog moved forward to nuzzle and lick his chin. Jack also found he could now move his left arm. "Hey, buddy..." He rubbed the Shepherd's coat. "Where are we...?"
"You're in sick bay," came a voice from across the room.
"Zat you, Doc?" Jack's speech was slow and slurred.
"No. Name's Lil Toncaresh. I'm an ABS, Able Bodied Spaceman. You can call me Lefty."
"Lefty?"
"Yeah," continued Toncaresh with a sigh, "lost my right arm in an explosion in Engine Room One, a few days ago. Doc tells me that animal with you saved my life. Wish I knew how to tell him, thanks."
"You just did," said Jack. "He udernerstan... unnerstanns... understands..." Jack felt guilty about the man's injuries and wondered if all the decisions he'd made lately had been good ones. "Sorry about your arm..."
The ABS shrugged. "It's Ok. Doc says he'll fit me for a replacement in a few days. I'll be good as new. Hell, Commander Edgars has one and you can't even tell..." Toncaresh shifted in his bed. "How's your head..." he realized he didn't know the name of the man with the dog. "What is your name anyway?"
"This is Fritzzz...” He patted the dog. “I'm Jack. Jack Sssteele. And my head hurts like the blazes."
"Steele? As in Captain Steele?"
"That would be the one... but call me Jack. Ok?"
"Uh... yeah, sure," he stammered. "Geez, sir, I mean Jack. We were all pullin' for you..."
"Who all?"
"All of us here in sickbay," answered Toncaresh. "There's about ten of us here. We were worried. You've been out cold since you came in."
"Howww long have I been here?"
"This is the sixth day," said another voice.
Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) Page 42
