Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (67 page)

“You're a good man, T. B. Yafuscko.”

He smiled at Grinah, “Yeah, well, let's hope the crew still thinks so when payday rolls around...”

■ ■ ■

With the planet of Veloria being a giant question mark in regards to overall stability, Admiral Kelarez had felt it best for the Freedom to hold on to the fighters destined for delivery to her non-existent military... and Commander Paul Smiley was happy to have them... And subject them to some
gentle use
while under his care.

Combining them with the Freedom's fighters gave him twenty-six front-line UFW fighters. With his present compliment of pilots, he could get almost all of them in flight. Of course, if Steele, Carter, Arroyo and Tusker, weren't out gallivanting around, he'd have all the pilots he needed.
Dammit, Jack, where the fucking hell are you? I need your ass in up here in a fighter...

Pappy let his eyes flick across the instruments and screens of his Vulcan before scanning the darkness around him, seeing only the members of his own flight. He keyed his mic, “White Flight, approaching point Golf, breaking for point Hotel...” When he got the confirmation from the other members of his flight, he gently rolled his Vulcan and took up the new heading, continuing their patrol. All fighter communications were to be local channel only, the patrol patterns and speeds carefully calculated to orchestrate a wide, silent CAP around the Task Force, the flight leaders monitoring Pappy's
Air Control
channel, the Commander monitoring the
Fleet
channel.

They tirelessly circled the Task Force, laying in wait in the darkness of space, like hungry sharks hunting for an unsuspecting victim...

■ ■ ■

Hours on station at red alert were wearing on the entire crew, but no one complained. Commander Walt Edgars was most concerned for the pilots on patrol, restricted to the confines of their cockpits. “Bridge to Flight Control, how are the lads doing on fuel?”

“Flight Control, we've got them on a conservative pace, sir. We calculate they have several more hours of fuel, with a reserve. We plan on launching our reserve flight when the patrols are estimated to be at fifty percent remaining. At that time, we will rotate in one flight at a time for refueling and relaunch.”

“
Understood.” Walt leaned back, his earpiece chirping the end of the communication. He and everyone else on the bridge was on edge and he desperately wanted to be doing something. Anything. Waiting for something was never one of his favorite things and the butterflies in his stomach were making him fidget. He wasn't hungry but he picked at the sandwich the steward had brought him. Eating
was
something...

“
GATE! GATE!”
shouted the tactical officer, jumping out of her seat, pointing at the big screen, the nose of a destroyer pushing through the veil of color, the gate from Cariloon opening up. A second nose appeared, wide abreast and slightly behind the first.

“
Sit down!” scolded Walt.
“
Details, please...”

“
Two Miro Class Destroyers, both Pirate, sir. Our turrets are targeting...”

“
Are these the destroyers the Revenge was tracking...?” Walt wondered aloud.

“
Sir, the Archer and Bowman are firing...”

“
Right. Open fire, all guns. Helm, adjust position to bring the rear turrets into play...”

“
Aye, sir, adjusting attitude.” The floor vibrated as the
zwump-zwump
of the Freedom's main guns fired upon the closest destroyer, echoed by the
zwump-zwump
of the rear turrets a moment later.

Having barely cleared the gate, the destroyers took a beating before being able to raise their shields, shedding parts as they transversed the devastating crisscross of fire from the Archer, Bowman and Freedom.

“Tracking a Valkyrie missile from the UFW77...”

There was a white-hot flash as the VK*505 anti-ship missile went through the waist of the furthest destroyer, almost passing completely through before detonating, blowing her cleanly in half, a sphere of debris growing outward, flickers of light and fire racing through her hull. A few more weak flickers danced about before she went completely dark, all life snuffed out of her.

“One down...” someone commented.

Emergency pods began emerging almost immediately from the second pirate as its shredded hull began to buckle, large gaps appearing as she cracked and weakly blew apart, her forward turret exploding, propelled from the hull, leaving a gaping hole underneath. Escape pods streaked across the darkness.

“Cease fire,” called Commander Edgars. “Bloody bastards, didn't have a chance. What a waste...”

“
GATE!”
called tactical, remembering to remain in her seat. “We've got two more...”

“
Jesus Christ,” breathed Walt, “it's a carrier and a battleship...”

“
Incoming GOD jumps!”

“
What? Where?!”

“
All over... Marking...”

Red targeting reticules appeared on the big screen, distance and targeting information next to each, waiting for the identification information to fill in. A series of flashes flickered across the darkness as the jump bubbles grew into existence, ships appearing from the swirling globes of color. Four cruisers and two destroyers.

“The destroyers were bloody decoys!
Probes!”
growled Walt angrily. Bloody horrible bastards wanted to see our defenses!
Bollocks..!”

“
Sir, the carrier's launching fighters!”
The pirate carrier's nose barely clear of the effects of the gate, a flight of four fighters appeared, streaking away, the flares of their engines glowing brightly in the darkness.

“
We're in the soup now, lads...
”

■ ■ ■

Pappy was already sliding the throttle forward when he keyed his mic to broadcast on the Air Control channel,
“All flights
switch to Fleet Channel...” he flicked the selector over to Fleet. “Blue and Green Flights, hit that battleship,
take that bitch out!
Hit her
fast,
before she gets her shields up...” He searched the sky for Mike Warren's Red Flight. “Red Flight you're with White, lets jump those fighters!” He shoved his throttle to the far stop as he broke to the left to intercept the pirate fighters, followed by the rest of White, drawing streaks of light across the darkness. In the distance, Red Flight broke from their position to converge with White on their intercept.

“
Red Leader to White, she's launching again!”

“
Copy, Red Leader. She's a big girl, she probably holds at least forty...”

“
Jesus...” Mike breathed.

“
White Leader to Flight Control, Launch Yellow Flight...” Pappy took a deep breath and let it out slow. “And anyone else who can fly...”

■ ■ ■

Still in the satiny-silver, starless transition tube from Cariloon to Velora Prime, the Revenge gained on the pair of pirate destroyers ahead of her.

Raulya turned in her seat to look back at Brian, “The Task Force has returned to standard communications, they have engaged the enemy fleet...” her face looked pained.

Brian Carter shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling uneasy, a rush of adrenalin punching him in the gut, “How many?”

“
The Task Force took out two initial destroyers...”

He leaned forward, “And?”

“They are currently engaged with four cruisers, two destroyers, a carrier and a battleship...”

“
Fuck
me
...” he whispered. He wiped the sweat that had instantly appeared on his brow and steeled his nerves.“Mr. Ragnaar, all ahead full, catch these two... we are going to kill the bastards point-blank, the second they clear the gate. Looks like we can track four targets simultaneously with these babies...” He was scanning the on-screen stats for the Valkyrie anti-ship missile system and the VK*527's loaded in the carousels. “Ms. Raulya, as soon as we clear that gate I'm pulling the trigger, find me two additional targets...”

“
Copy that, Commander.”

“
And as soon as our birds have hit their marks, find me four more targets... I want to leave a trail of smoking hulls in our wake...”

■ ■ ■

Commander Renae Ribundell's UFW77 was weaving its way through an extremely hazardous web of fire coming from two pirate cruisers and a destroyer, as the 77 maneuvered for a shot on the enemy battleship. Intense green streaks flashed above and below the hull of the 77, passing the bridge by mere feet.

“
They're bracketing us, get us out of here!
Move, Move!”
She was desperately trying to get a firing solution and a positive missile lock on the pirate, but the target was too close now. “Pull us out, get us clear, we'll take another run...” The 77's main turret fired, raking the hull of the pirate destroyer as they screamed past it, the shields of the larger ship shrugging much of it off.

“
Fighters coming in on our starboard stern quarter...”

“
Stern defense, fire. Deploy countermeasures,” ordered the Commander, coolly.

“
Aye, popping counters. Stern defense turrets firing.” The weapons officer initiated the countermeasure system, her fingers dancing across her control panel. “Counters away...” Small tubes along the stern of the hull ejected a spreading cluster of mini proximity mines. While ineffectual against larger ships, they could easily damage or cripple most fighters.

■ ■ ■

As Steele pounded across the concrete of the hangar at a full run, he could see the waves, like a heat distortion underneath the Invader, its silhouette in the sunlight outside the main door, landing feet not touching the ground. Her engines and systems were already up and running. “What's going on?” he called.

“
Hurry up!” shouted Maria from the top of the ramp, waving, standing in the doorway. “They're in trouble, we gotta go!”

“
Who's they?”

“
The Task Force is under attack,
it's bad...”

“
Shit,” he grunted, as he jumped up onto the boarding ramp, Maria grabbing his free arm to pull him in.

“
Closing,” she called, pulling on the door lever, the ramp swinging into the hull. “Taxi us out, Dooby.”

“
Aye ma'am,” he called from the cockpit.

Beyond the fact that she was letting Dooby handle her ship, Jack stood momentarily perplexed. “Wait. Did I see missiles on this thing?”

“Yep.”

“
It doesn't carry missiles...”

“
It does now. But we've only got three,” she replied, heading around the seated Marines toward the cockpit, Steele following behind her. “Courtesy of the Army Engineers.” She dropped herself into the pilot's seat, Dooby controlling from the second seat.

“
I got this,” commented Jack, waving. Dooby began to unbuckle to rise from his seat. “Not you” he corrected, “Lieutenant, get outta my seat, I'm driving...”

Maria looked back over her shoulder, “Me?”

“I don't see another Lieutenant up here...”

She shook her head, “Don't see how you're going to fly with a broken arm...”

“It's my throttle hand,” he said sarcastically, “I'll deal with it...”

■ ■ ■

“Take it easy on the climb out,” urged Maria from the co-pilot's seat, “we don't want to lose our missiles. Remember they're not mounted with factory equipment. And we don't have a warranty,” she chided.

“
I'm barely at twenty-five percent,” countered Jack. “Having the shields up should help...” He glanced out to his right, watching the planet's surface fall away, the Invader angled almost straight up.

“
I just don't want to risk losing them,” said Maria stoically, “we might need them.”

“
And try not to lose any wings, either,” came a voice from the back, “we need those too...”

“
Lisa?”
Jack turned to look over at his shoulder, having missed her sitting with the Marines, dressed in full combat gear, Fritz curled up at her feet. “Oh,
hell no...”