The Price of Freedom

by William R. Forstchen

  Pieces of the fighter spalled away from its hull as it tried to hold station. The frame couldn't take the abuse and broke up. The pilot ejected a moment later. With the rebels withdrawing from the system, he knew the pilot would have to be very lucky for anyone to pick him up.

  The Vesuvius continued to pursue the Intrepid, using its superior maneuverability and acceleration to overtake the smaller and clumsier ship. Blair gauged the distance the Evil I needed to make the jump point safely against the speed and range of the Vesuvius' main battery. The Intrepid would come under ranging fire several minutes before she made the jump.

  Wilford apparently drew the same conclusion. Intrepid's four surviving escort frigates turned and boosted towards the huge ship. They closed the range quickly, looking to Blair like brave terriers attacking a bull elephant. He heard the captains sounding off as they began the countdown for their torpedo runs. The Vesuvius, presented with a target for its primary batteries, commenced firing.

  One frigate detonated as a single beam pierced its phase shields, hull armor, and the hull itself. The other three light ships scattered, counting on their speed to get them through the Vesuvius' fire. The Vesuvius turned, exposing its long side to the frigates as it brought its stern-mounted weaponry to bear. The carrier began to engage with its full primary battery, savaging the frigates as they completed their countdown times.

  The Intrepid, given a reprieve, changed course slightly to better align itself for the jump. The carriers recall warbled in his headsets. He knew that any non-jump capable fighter that didn't hit the flight deck before the Intrepid went through the point would be lost.

  A second frigate staggered under a direct hit. Its drives failed and it drifted out of formation. A second weapon, a mass driver round, hit the stricken ship a moment later, destroying it in a spectacular explosion.

  The remaining two frigates started their attack runs, hurtling towards their target. The defensive fire intensified as they came into the secondary batteries' range. Stream after stream of turret lasers and other heavy weapons probed space for the nimble little ships.

  They held their courses long enough to fire their torpedo spreads and turn away to begin their run home. The Vesuvius' defensive batteries maintained continuous fire as the huge carrier attempted to evade the homing torpedoes. The frigates, job done, fled for the jump point.

  Blair watched as a single Black Lance popped out of cloak above the trailing frigate. It fired something that attached itself to the frigates hull. The frigate slewed to one side. The rear torpedo storage blew, ripping off most of the drive bays. The frigate, quickly dying, began to tumble. The Lance settled on the second, fired and recloaked.

  The second frigate also slowed. Portholes and hatches on both ships blew outward as their atmospheres detonated. Blair hunted in vain a few moments more for the hidden enemy, then turned for home. He fired his afterburners, boosting himself up to maximum speed and away from the battle zone. Blue flares marked the Intrepid's and the surviving escorts' passage through the jump point in a single panicky mass.

  Blair angled his own fighter through the jump point, then gritted his teeth against the inevitable feeling of jump shock. Passage through the jump point made every cell in his body feel as though it had been shredded.

  He swerved as he emerged from the jump, dodging the wrecked remains of a pair of corvettes. The Intrepid, her complement of escorts sadly depleted by the emergency passage through the jump point, had already set her course for the next point.

  Blair dropped his cloak and sent his IFF signal. The officer standing in for Sosa replied in tones that conveyed both panic and relief. He received quick authority to land and blazed into the crowded, confused deck.

  New ships brought up from below were being spotted for conventional launch. Pilots ran from their damaged or expended fighters to assist the ground crews while their grim-faced replacements climbed into their cockpits and readied for launch.

  He saw Maniac run from his Hellcat to a Rapier and climb in. Obsolete Sabers and Scimitars, early model Rapiers, and even scratch-built bastards were being sent to face the Confederations very best machines and pilots. They were scraping the bottom of the barrel.

  Blair shook his head. The main complement of fighters needed time to refuel and rearm. That reality was inescapable. He knew, without a doubt, that most of the pilots launching from the Intrepid's deck would die. That reality was also inescapable, and bitterly necessary.

  He turned away, his heart heavy. An orderly sprinted up to him. "Sir!" he said. 'The admiral wants you on the bridge!" He took off without waiting for Blair's acknowledgement. Pliers appeared from behind the Lance. "You'd better go, son," he said. "She'll be ready when you are."

  Blair nodded, then began the long scramble to the bridge. When he arrived, Wilford waved him to a chair. "Colonel, the Vesuvius has just emerged from the warp point. We are seven minutes ahead of her, traveling at flank speed. We saw a hit by torpedoes, maybe more than one. Will that slow her?"

  "No, sir," Blair answered, "the damage wasn't significant."

  "And our frigates?"

  "All gone." Blair shifted in his seat. "Sir, shouldn't I be getting ready to launch?"

  "No, Colonel Blair. You have the uncanny ability to place yourself in harm's way, and the Border Worlds can't afford your famous luck to desert you. I made a mistake in letting you go the first time, and I won't make it again/'

  Blair looked up at the partially restored main screen. The graphic showed the Intrepid's fighters launching. lines of red dots began to emerge from the front end of the Vesuvius.

  "Launches are coming from the starboard bay," the sensor officer reported. "It's a fresh wing. The last batch came from the port bay."

  "Thank you," Wilford replied. "Come right to course two-seven-zero. We'll take an outward leg towards the Aleph Six jump point, then try for the Aleph Three in four minutes."

  "Sir," the sensor officer cried, "that'll take us through the Ella system's asteroid field!"

  "That's correct. That big so-and-so's going to have one fun time running that field at its max speed. It'll have to slow, or risk impact damage. We might make some time. Certainly we'll get a chance to test her captain's mettle." He paused, thinking. "Release the escort. They won't take much abuse in that asteroid field and there's no sense subjecting them to that. Loop one back around to the last system and see if you can recover the pilots who ejected or didn't make jump." He leaned back, trying to straighten stiffened muscles. "Also, send one ahead of us, around the belt and into the next system. Let's give them as much warning as we can."

  Blair chafed in his seat as the drama played itself out. The fighters launched by the Intrepid approached the Vesuvius' craft. The monitor showed a swarm of red enemy dots engulfing their weak CAP. Blue dot after blue dot winked out, each representing a life and a fighter. In less than a minute the survivors broke and ran for the carrier. Blair counted a half dozen remaining of the eighteen that had launched.

  The Vesuvius' wing slowed to reorganize. Blair didn't see any perceptible difference in their numbers. It did, however, take them longer then he would have thought to reform. He realized, in a flash of insight, that while the blacksuits were all natural pilots and superbly trained, few had any real combat experience. It was easy to forget the enemy was, in many ways, green. He hoped he'd be able to figure out a way to use that to their advantage.

  "Admiral, we're at the navigation point," Garibaldi said from his plotting board. Blair, unable to sit still, got up and joined him, plugging into the tactical officer's station.

  "Very good," Wilford replied. "Come left to course one-nine-five, zee minus ten.

  "One-nine-five minus ten, aye, Admiral," Garibaldi echoed. "Asteroid belt in two minutes. Aleph Three in six minutes."

  "Thank you, steady as she goes. Activate phase shields and charge guns. Are the fighters aboard yet?"

  "They're coming in now," the comm officer replied. "What there is of them anyway."

&n
bsp; Wilford nodded. "As soon as they've recovered, start spotting the rearmed fighters. We'll need to have some kind of a defense if they catch us."

  Blair checked the carrier's tactiGal board. Hawk's squadron was listed as ready for launch, while Panther's and Maniac's were rearming. The Intrepid had three of its six defensive turrets on-line, as well as the forward torpedo room. The carrier, much to his surprise, maintained her old destroyers centerline armament. The Vesuvius' relentless pursuit had closed much of the gap when the Intrepid abruptly heeled over and entered the asteroid field. The ship's phase shields started to take damage at once, flaring under the asteroids' impacts. The ship's defensive turrets engaged what rocks they could, the debris arriving as a hail rather than a single, deadly mass. The shields dropped to seventy percent at once, and continued to bleed away as impacts weakened them.

  The Vesuvius hit the field's edge. Blair saw the big ship's phase shields glow as it bulled its way through the stone sleet. Its defensive turrets opened up, outlining the ship in red laser beams as they tried to protect the ship, with imperfect success.

  The old admiral had given the Vesuvius a Hobson's choice that used the Confed ship's speed against it. The Vesuvius would pay for each meter it gained on the Intrepid in additional damage. The other option, slowing, allowed the Intrepid to either maintain or extend its lead.

  The Vesuvius thundered after them, its bow and forward sections flickering red as its phase shields were depleted by asteroid hits. Blair checked its velocity and saw no change in its acceleration. How much punishment could the big ship take?

  The bridge crew cheered when its shields flared and died. The carrier slowed when the asteroids began to impact against its bow and portside bay.

  He glanced down at his own tactical board in time to see their own shields fail. He heard the first thump a moment later as they rammed an asteroid. He winced as a second hit followed hard upon the first. "The one good thing," Wilford said to no one in particular, "about the bow and topside being already destroyed is that it gives us another layer of cushion." Wilford looked at him and shrugged as a third impact shuddered the ship. "Also, we have a smaller cross-section," he said casually, as though discussing the weather. "Less to hit."

  They emerged from the belt with the Vesuvius lagging behind. She had visible damage. Several of her side turrets appeared to be out of action and a fire glowed where the port bay mated with the ship's main hull. A similar amount of damage on the Intrepid would have finished her.

  "Steady on for Aleph Three," Wilford ordered, his voice calm and steady. "All ahead flank."

  "Where will this jump take us, Admiral?" Blair asked.

  "Orestes," Wilford replied. 'The Princeton is there, with a nearly full complement of first-line fighters. I made Toliver the Princeton's captain. He's had orders to fill out the carrier's crew and wing, even if he had to resort to press gangs." Blair swallowed, uncertain if Wilford was joking. The admiral's grim face suggested he was in deadly earnest.

  Garibaldi cleared his throat and leaned towards the microphone. "Standby for jump in three-two-one…" Blair gritted his teeth. The carrier hit the transition point at full speed. The wrenching nausea struck him like a wall, wringing his guts with jump shock. He hyperventilated, trying to get the surging pains under control. Around him, crewmembers and techs cried out, their bodies rebelling against the repeated jump shock.

  Orestes floated in the sky ahead, a pristine world that was about to be in the center of a pitched battle.

  "Advise Princeton of our situation," Wilford ordered, "and let Orestes' sector command know what's coming. They're going to be thrilled we brought Vesuvius with us, but that's something we can hash out later."

  "Incoming signal from the Princeton, sir," the comm officer said. "Putting it on screen now."

  "Toliver to Wilford: What can we do for you?"

  "Have you been informed of our situation?"

  "Yes, Admiral, your scout gave us the word. Our reactors are on-line and we've got about sixty-three birds ready for launch. I only have thirty pilots standing by, however."

  "Okay, Commander," Wilford said, "I'm sending you enough pilots to fill out your wing. We'll shuttle them over to you."

  Blair nodded. The Princeton had more fighters than pilots, while the Intrepid carried combat veterans flying craft older than they were. Wilford planned to use what little time he had in getting the vets into front-line craft. They would still be outnumbered, but not as badly outgunned.

  Wilford looked at the navigation plot a moment, absentmindedly chewing his lip. "Here's the plan. I'll continue at flank speed into Orestes orbit and launch my shuttles. We'll then slingshot back out towards the Vesuvius. This ship was a destroyer, and she's still got her torps.

  Launch your strike as we come about. We'll hit her with your birds, ours, and maybe torpedoes as well. Got it?"

  "Got it, Admiral," Toliver replied. "Who'll lead the combined strike?"

  "Maniac," Wilford said, causing Blair to stand in protest.

  "Admiral," Toliver said, "Blairs the best we've got. His luck's famous. Our pilots might not be so quick to go into harm's way if they see you're holding back our best."

  Wilford looked from Blair to the screen. "You flyboys are ganging up on me," he snapped angrily. He looked up at Blair, his eyes beetling under his heavy brows. "Get out of my sight."

  Blair got. He sprinted down to the flight deck, sliding down the ladders without regard for his own safety. He heard the frames strain and groan as the ship went into its slingshot maneuver. He ran onto the depleted deck and towards his ship. Pliers met him, slapping a helmet into his hands and holding the ladder steady as he climbed.

  "The Vesuvius appeared a couple of minutes ago," Pliers yelled. "All the pilots except you an' the 'Cats have gone over!"

  Blair raised one thumb, indicating he'd heard. He checked his stores and saw that they'd only had time to reload one of his expended missiles, and that with a heatseeker.

  He barely had time to hook the last of his straps before the amber light flashed over the launch end of the flight deck. "Stand by for magnum launch," Maniac ordered. "Remember people, this is going to be a two-wing strike. We'll be takin' orders from Heart o' the Tiger himself as the combined force commander once we get linked up. Do what he says and you'll make it back."

  Blair knew Maniac's speech was intended as a morale booster only, and wasn't meant to be taken at face value. Nonetheless, it was a far cry from his attitude towards Blair on Nephele.

  He brought his engines on-line and checked his fuel levels. The ground crews had refueled the fighter's tanks, saving him the bother and risk of leaving the intakes open to scoop free hydrogen during the battle.

  He felt the deck heel again slightly. Orestes prime vanished from the view outside the launch bay. The star field twisted to the right as the carrier reoriented itself. "Magnum launch!" the comm officer screamed, losing control of himself in his excitement. "Go! Go! GO!"

  Maniac led the Hellcats off the deck. Blair followed. He made his clearing turn. His tactical plot indicated the Confed forces would be on them before they could form up. He had no choice but to commit his forces piecemeal, in waves, and hope for the best. "Tiger to all units. Break and attack by squadrons. Attack at will."

  The Vesuvius spat out her own fighters, launching them from both port and starboard bays. Neat lines of Confed ships aligned themselves into squadron Vees, only to have a section of Hellcats they'd captured from the Princeton slash through the formation. The ships ripple-fired their missiles, causing destruction out of proportion to their numbers. Five or so Confed fighters gang-fired in a string of yellow-red explosions. A flight of Black Lances in Border Worlds mufti flashed past him, headed for the enemy wings.

  Squadrons on both sides angled in, wheeled over and hit afterburners, heading for the melee. Fighters engaged in the center ground between the carriers, with missiles and ordnance flashing and flaring as the dogfight grew more intense. Blair, followed by Mania
c and the Intrepid contingent, tipped over one by one and dove into the battle.

  He glanced up to see a blue flare from the jump point behind the Vesuvius. A second huge carrier emerged behind the first. His spirits flagged. The Confed had not one, but two of the massive ships. There was no way Wilfords forces could defeat that kind of power. They could only sell themselves as dearly as they could.

  His scanner locked on the ship-to-ship channel. The comm-panel showed a dark, static-filled face that rapidly cleared. "Eisen to Wilford," the admiral said. "Can we be of assistance?"

  "Eisen?" Wilford yelled. "What are you doing here?'

  "I didn't make it to Earth, Admiral," Eisen replied. "I got 'detained' at Sirius. It seems the conspiracy's made quite a few enemies, enough to crew this ship at least. Some friends in low places gave us enough advance warning to mount a raid on the ship as she came out of an engine test run. They also sent enough technicians to keep us going." He paused. '*The ship I'm in is the twin to the Vesuvius. Even these things have a few soft spots. I'm going to dump a whole lot of data on your comm officer— blueprints, IFF codes, the works."

  "What's your combat status?" Wilford snapped.

  "I don't have any torpedoes," Eisen replied. "The bays are still unfinished, and the shields and half the main guns have buggy software."

  "Admiral!" Blair heard in the background. "Telemetry indicates the Vesuvius is turning."

  "Well, Bill," Wilford said, "it looks like you're going to get first blood."

  "Great," Eisen replied, "lucky me." He recited the hoary line used by every crew who'd ever faced a broadside. "For what we are about to receive, may we be truly grateful. Eisen out."

  His face vanished from the comm-panel just as the St. Helens' main guns opened up, followed a second later by the Vesuvius'. The two huge ships lashed and tore at each other at diminishing ranges. Eisen turned his ship first, capping the "T" and bringing his full weight to bear on the Vesuvius. The Confed ship turned a moment later, staying on a converging course, slowly closing the range. The Vesuvius' secondary batteries fired in unison, then continued to hammer the other ship. Both carriers' phase shields glowed a solid red as each attempted to fend off the energy cast at it. Portions of the main guns' energies penetrated to strike the armor and probe the soft portions of the ships. The St. Helens took greater punishment from shots hitting its unfinished sections and punching deep inside. Blair guessed the Vesuvius had not had time to fully recover its shields after its run-in with the asteroid belt. Gout after gout of energy snapped between the two ships as they hammered each other.