Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2)

by Burger, Jeffrey

  “The fighters are gone?”

  Digger lit his cigar, “Well the transport created this hellstorm when she jumped out. I have no idea if the fighters survived or not. I can't read through this stuff,” he waved, indicating the angry swirling clouds.

  “The employee shuttle leave already?”

  “Yep, we're the only ones left. And if he doesn't get his skinny, paranoid little ass in here, I'm going to leave that fucking freak here by himself.”

  Timmian stared at the remote control in his hands, fingering the buttons, impatiently waiting for Sy Setzel.

  “A week's salary if you push the button...”

  Timmian locked eyes with the pilot who didn't blink. “But Sy is still in there...”

  “Uh-huh. You fancy going to prison or dying for him?” The pilot adjusted the shuttle's sensors.

  “No, but...”

  “Didn't that fruit bat shoot you a couple weeks ago?” Digger let out a halo of smoke.

  Timmian nodded, “Well, yeah, but...” The pilot cocked his head to one side, searching the mine manager's face for a reaction. There was none. There was still none when the mine entrances exploded, one by one in a violent chain reaction sequence, tons of rock collapsing, sealing the mine, a shower of gravel reaching across the concrete towards the shuttle. The belching dust dissipated quickly in the downpour. Timmian smirked and tossed the remote out onto the ground and pulled the door shut, latching it.

  “Feels good, don't it?” the pilot grinned. The shuttle lifted off the ground and accelerated away, leaving Mine 02 behind. And Sy Setzel sealed inside by several hundred tons of rubble... with four thousand angry slave miners.

  ■ ■ ■

  Reiger Dantos swung his heavy departure bag up into the cargo compartment of the waiting shuttle, “Did you set all the charges?”

  “Yep,” his aide grunted, chucking the heavy weapons case through the hatch. “The entrances are blocked with the heavy equipment and the charges are set on a delay. It'll bury everything after we leave. The employee shuttle just took off.”

  “Good.” He looked around, adjusted his eye patch and stroked his beard. “Dammit, this was the most productive mine I've ever had... I hate to let it go.” He turned and climbed into the shuttle, “Maybe we'll get to come back when things quiet down,” he mused. “Let's get the hellion out of here.”

  As the shuttle lifted off, Reiger looked over his shoulder at his aide, “If the UFW doesn't catch our little friend, I'm gonna hafta kill him...”

  “Setzel?”

  “Yeah, him,” said Reiger with distaste. “And I'm gonna make it slow...”

  “Sorry boss,” commented the pilot, pointing the shuttle toward the airport, “I'm afraid you won't get the chance...”

  “What? Why?”

  “Digger gave me the details when he notified us of the alert. He didn't have to prod Timmian too hard; he pushed the button on the little freak himself. Sealed him in.”

  “No shit! Good for him,” nodded Reiger. “I guess he earned himself a spot on our crew then, huh?”

  His aide chuckled, “I guess he was still sore about that whole shot in the foot thing...”

  The pilot eased he throttle back as they approached the vacant airport. “And getting Digger on Sy's staff was a stroke of genius, boss. It really saved our asses here. Gave us time to get our shit and get out.”

  “It took a little scheming to get him in, but it always pays off to have ears inside.” He wiped the sweat off his shining head. “Worked out good for us.”

  His aide unbuckled as the shuttle touched down and settled on the landing pad. “Not so good for his original pilot though... poor bastard.”

  They all chuckled.

  Reiger checked his chronometer, “How far out is Digger?”

  “Ten minutes and we're outta here,” replied the pilot, “I've never known him to be late...”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  VELORIA : REMORA ONE - HOSED, PRANGED AND PUNCHED OUT

  After punching out, there was nothing to do but hold on and wait it out; the seat would do the rest, in space or in atmosphere. There was no controlling the canopy or the descent in the near gale-force winds. Steele was at the mercy of the weather. He looked up and watched the red and white striped chute undulate and ripple like a jellyfish in the water, the ejection seat swinging like a pendulum. He tried calling Lisa but the comm in his helmet only produced a soft static hiss. He couldn't believe he was thinking of it, but his mother would kill him if anything happened to his sister.

  He watched the swirls below him, searching for some indication of how high he was, but between the movement of his chair, the streaks of rain across his visor and the darkness that surrounded him, that was proving impossible. He turned up the airflow on the oxygen bottle attached to the seat to fight the nausea caused by the wild ride. It was just a glimpse but he thought he caught a low ridge line to the East, but then it was gone. Did he really see that?

  The wind threatened to collapse the canopy, folding it, twisting it, the seat standing out horizontally... When he slammed down into the water it took him by surprise, the seat landing on its side on a pendulous downswing, stunning him. The canopy and lines collapsed around him, still partially inflated, dragging him and the seat down as it quickly began to sink. Fighting panic and disorientation, his gloved fingers struggled with the harness release, finally opening the latches as the water crested over his sealed helmet.

  Reflexively, Steele held his breath, forgetting his suit was sealed and he had air, though not more than a minute or two once his umbilicals disconnected from the seat. It sank away as he pushed off, only to be caught in the canopy lines and the sinking chute itself, dragged down by the ejection seat as it disappeared below him. The watery world around him darkened and the canopy clung to him, dragging him down as he struggled to get free. No! No, not like this..! The panic attempted to override his cognitive mind, triggering one of his deepest fears, drowning. The fight for life, for breath, denied by a force that was all-enveloping, cold, crushing, terrifying.

  The survival knife came cleanly out of its sheath. He slashed at the material and the lines, trying to cut himself free in the darkness. He was not wet but he was suddenly aware of the extreme cold that surrounded him as breathing became more labored. Was he rising? He couldn't tell, there didn't seem to be any up or down. Dammit all to hell! His heart thudded in his ears, he couldn't tell if he was free of his entanglements or not and continued to kick as he felt around himself for clutter. It was difficult to feel with the gloves and the cold. His joints felt stiff and his mind was getting foggy, he had used up all the oxygen and he knew it... Had his vision gone gray? It was almost impossible to tell. Was it getting lighter, or was that his imagination? Was hypoxia affecting his judgment already? His eyelids were heavy and his lungs ached, crying for oxygen, his muscles exhausted almost to the point of failure. Good God, where was the surface?

  ■ ■ ■

  Lisa Steele's ejection seat swung between the trees about thirty feet off the ground, her red and white canopy caught on the limbs far above her. She looked down at the ground as she swayed in the wind. Terrific. What the hell am I supposed to do now? “Jack, are you out there..?” There was nothing, not even a hiss. Fuck. She would take her helmet off if it wasn't for the hail clattering down on it, mixed in with the rain. The motion of her seat gave her an idea and she began flexing like a child on a swing, increasing the pendulous arc. If she could reach the nearest tree branch, she might be able to get herself down. Just a little more... Got it! But the weight of the seat tore it out of her hands. Fuck! Shit! She examined the harness clasps as she continued to swing, having to rebuild her momentum. She'd have to time it right or the seat would likely dump her out, and that was a long fall. She really didn't see any other options.

  The branch was easily in her reach, next cycle. Here it comes... on the forward swing she released the buckle, tossing the straps aside, reaching out, the seat slamming her painfully a
gainst the branch before swinging free, leaving her clinging weakly to the tree, her umbilicals tugging on her as they disconnected from the seat with a pop.

  It was deceiving how strong the wind was while she was swinging in the ejection seat, but the hand of God that swept her free from her perch made it perfectly clear. She bounced and grabbed at branches on her way down, attempting to slow her decent, tumbling, bouncing, blown free, hitting the soggy, muddy, forest floor with a mind-numbing, star-producing, squishy thud. She lay there on her back for some time, gasping for breath, unable to move. Oh good, I'm so glad the ground was here to break my fall... Laying there, pins and needles shooting through her entire body, she watched the empty ejection seat sway in the wind above her as she wiggled her toes and fingers to see if everything was still attached. She weakly reached up and released her visor, cracking it open and sucking in the fresh air, as the rain dripping onto her face. Thankfully, the hail had passed.

  The hooded face that appeared above her set her rigid, startling her so badly she yelped. He leaned over and looked down at her with a weathered, aged face, filled with warmth and kindness. “Lisa,” he said pleasantly, “you really ought to get up now...” His voice was deep and penetrating, grandfatherly. She blinked at him, watching the rain fall through him. “Really dear,” he urged, “now would be a good time...” Her mind was stuck on the fact that the rain seemed to be falling though him. “MOVE NOW!”

  It resounded throughout her entire body. With that, her muscles fired, and she rolled to her side, staggering to her feet, motoring stiffly to a tree, clutching it, leaning on it for support while looking around for the old man who had so suddenly come and gone. Above the sound of the wind and rain was the sound of screaming, splintering wood and tearing fabric, the ejection seat crashing to the forest floor where she had been lying. A shower of mud splattered her and the surrounding trees as the heavy seat dug itself a small crater. “Holy fuck,” she muttered out loud. She looked around for the old man again, but there was no one. She was alone. “Thank you!” she yelled. “Whoever you are...” she breathed. She hugged the tree as broken branches and debris rained down from above, the tattered and torn red and white parachute still clinging limply to the trees, the shreds flapping like ribbons in the wind and rain.

  Taking a precursory inventory, wiping away the layers of mud as best she could, Lisa checked and double-checked that her Glock and spare magazines were still in her shoulder holster and pouches. Although muddy, they were no worse for the abuse they'd taken in the fall. She wished she could say the same for her aching body.

  She hadn't noticed it before, but there was a short blaster carbine imbedded in the frame of the seat. Searching the frame closely, she recovered the carbine, two extra magazines and a small survival kit mounted on the other side. Unfortunately the seat's automatic EPRB - Emergency Pulse Rescue Beacon, had been crushed in the fall. “Of course,” she muttered, slinging the carbine over her shoulder, “because that makes the day just perfect.” She emptied the survival kit's contents into her flight suit's many pockets, discarding the tin in the mud near the seat. Now what?

  ■ ■ ■

  There were mega- storms raging on two continents and the atmosphere was so electrically charged it affected the ship's look-down sensors. Lieutenant Brian Carter was in the Captain's ready room of the Revenge, doing his best to quiet Alité's fears. “We'll find them, I promise...”

  She paced back and forth past the chart table, a glowing map of the system suspended above it. “But the Freedom recalled all the fighters from the surface... why aren't they looking for them?”

  He stopped her in her tracks holding her by the shoulders. “Easy, calm down. You know we're not going to abandon them. Birds can't fly through that stuff and they didn't have enough fuel to loiter. They recalled them to refuel; they'll send them back down in a little while with the Zulu.” She leaned her head against him and he did his best to comfort her, feeling a little uncomfortable in the process.

  “Why didn't they go to the Air and Space Port to refuel...?” she asked quietly.

  “Because that's where one of the storms was headed. We didn't want to risk it.”

  The door to the bridge chimed before opening, sliding into the bulkhead, Raulya leaning in through the doorway. “Outgoing GOD event activation occurring over the third continent...”

  ■ ■ ■

  The hollow tree had proven as good a place as any to hide and wait out the storm. The carbine lay across Lisa's lap as she closed her eyes, letting herself rest, even though she was too afraid of what might be lurking in the forest to fall asleep. Little slivers of sunlight played on the soggy forest floor as she emerged from her protective little spot. But which way to go? She closed her eyes and pictured the coastline as they passed over it, pursuing the transport vessel. It should be on her left. She wasn't sure how she knew that, it was more a feeling than anything. Intuition? Her intuitions always seemed to be quite good. She checked the survival compass tucked in her breast pocket but the needle swung back and forth. Yeah, you're a big help. She thought about the GPS unit in her thigh pocket, but remembered Jack mentioning there were no satellites around Veloria.

  Discarding the now useless helmet, she tucked her comm unit in a pocket, slung the carbine across her chest with her right hand resting on the grip, and marched off. Her eyes searched her surroundings as she walked, feeling like she was not alone. Periodically she would pause and listen before walking on. By the chronometer on her wrist, she had walked over an hour and about two miles. The sun was setting, the forest becoming heavily laden with darkening shadows. She pushed on.

  Twilight came on quickly, and knowing there was no moon, she considered backing herself up to a tree to sit the night out. Her aching muscles cried out in pain and there was nothing low enough that she could see herself climbing for protection. But it never got quite dark, at least not the absolute darkness she experienced on family camping trips she remembered in the mountains. The inky blackness that had seemed to absorb all light. No, this was different. And it took a while for her to recognize the oddity... the blackness of the sky, flecked with stars, peeking through the leaves, was the darkest part of her world. The leaves seemed to radiate light. A soft, barely discernible glow, a canopy of light, as if they had absorbed the warmth and light from the sun and gently stored it for the night. It was surreal, mesmerizing. She found herself standing motionless more than once, staring up at the leaves as they rustled in the night air, looking like so many butterflies. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, it was just enough to be able to navigate without running into trees or tripping over obstacles lying on the forest floor. She trudged on, almost mechanically, willing her aching body forward.

  Several places where the forest canopy grew less dense, presented her a larger glimpse of a spectacular spread of stars. Stars so foreign that nothing was recognizable. The sight filling her with an emptiness, a weariness, a hopelessness, a sense of loneliness. It sent a chill through her and she pressed it down, refused it access, blocked it out. That's when a new sound presented itself, something mechanical, cutting through the rustle of the breeze playing through the trees, through the sounds of the night birds and chirping insects.

  She paused, listening quietly to a rhythmic sound, like the put, put, put, put, of an old outboard boat motor somewhere in the distance. Cupping her hands over her ears she effectively made dog ears, turned from side to side, trying to determine the direction the sound was coming from. Satisfied she had localized the direction, she took up her new heading, following the sound.

  ■ ■ ■

  When the employee shuttle from Mine 02 landed at the Air and Space Port to board Sy Setzel's missile frigate, Black Shadow, they were more than a little surprised to be surround by UFW military units and tanks. It was painfully clear that some drastic changes had occurred since they had hidden the ship on the base. An attempt at escape would have met certain disaster, as the UFW units had waited until the shuttle was settled
and most of her systems secured and shut down. Spooling up her engines and shields would have taken far too long, especially when staring down the barrel of a hover tank's main gun.

  Feeling lost and abandoned, most of the employees provided any and all information requested during interrogation, especially if there was any chance of helping themselves in regards to prison sentencing. But, there were a few hard-assed, holdouts that refused to cooperate... the ones that of course, knew the most, and had the most to lose. That is, until the Prime Minister of Veloria, Nitram Marconus, inserted himself into the mix.

  “Major, I understand your reservations,” said Boney, “but these men have information we need, no matter the cost. Lives hang in the balance...”

  “This is a military inquiry, Prime Minister; I cannot allow you to interfere with the interrogation process...”

  “I wouldn't dream of interfering, Major, I want to speed up the process. Let me rephrase that, sir, we need to speed up the process.”

  “Some of these things take time, Prime Minister. We will get all the information, but I must follow UFW Military interrogation protocols.”

  “Your protocols are taking too long. We need answers fast...”

  “I understand your concerns, Prime Mini...”

  “No I don't think you do,” interrupted Boney, who was coming to the end of his substantial patience. “I don't think you grasp the magnitude of what's going on here, Major. Let me be perfectly clear. The lives hanging in the balance are my people, not yours... save one. The Queen's husband. You remember the Queen, don't you..?”

  “Well yes, I...”

  “Captain Steele, is not only an important member of the UFW Space Services, but as the Queen's husband, is vitally important to the well-being of this planet.” He stepped forward, nose-to-nose with the Major. “And I'm sure Admiral Kelarez would be pleased to know that your protocols are all that's standing in the way, of not only finding his highly valued officer, but saving hundreds, if not thousands of my people. Not to mention possibly apprehending some prime enemies of the Federation.”