“Not quite, little brother. We took a bad hit back there. We have to get atmospheric and soon or . . .”
“Alright, Coredei is the nearest habitable planet, and it’s straight ahead.”
“Blast! Dillhole Coredei? Really? Man, I hate that place!”
Confusion rolled across Archer’s face. “As I recall, as pirate strongholds go, that one is pretty tough. Despite that, you used to love being there. Now you hate it? Really?”
“No, not really. I suppose I don’t. It’s just that there’s someone there I’d rather avoid.”
“Luckily, we know the place. Or at least we did. And it’s a big world. Shouldn’t be too hard to avoid the estate.”
“Fine. Distance?”
“At our current speed, half a day. Sorry, sis. There’s nothing closer.”
“With luck, no one will ask questions. If we stick together and cover each other’s backs, we’ll make it out of there alive.”
“We will, Ericca. Of that I have no doubt.”
“Uh huh. Sure.”
“No desire to see Tyson?”
Ericca shook her head.
Riley remembered their leaving Coredei nearly two years back. But he didn’t know why. Not really. Ericca had asked him to trust her, and so he did. She never said more about it. Riley thought that’d be their home forever. The four years prior, Tyson Blackhart trained the two youths to defend themselves with fist, knife, and sword. He taught them how to fight mean and dirty with whatever they could lay their hands to. He taught them how to handle a gun, and how to shoot to kill. Both learned fast and well. And, as kind, caring, and generous as Tyson was, they knew he couldn’t protect them forever. Even he had a higher-up he had to answer to—his father, the king—a man who wasn’t nice, or kind, or understanding in the least.
Having to run away in the dead of night came as a complete surprise to Riley, but Ericca said it was the only choice left to them. After that it’d be foolish to seek out Tyson ever again. If they did, Ericca warned, they’d better have good reason for doing so.
“Get Captain Kori on the horn, Archer, and see if they’re ready for these guys.”
“Aye, aye, Captain Ericca.” Riley hailed Freefall and spoke to Mrs. Kori. Jordon was tied up with preparations, but Mara assured Riley that the rebels would be ready in time. Riley told Mrs. Kori that he and Ericca had left the fleet in all due haste just to stay on the safe side, and that they wouldn’t be home soon. Though it was never said, each found comfort in the other’s voice. Reluctantly, Riley signed off and turned his attention back to the tasks before him.
“Take her in, sis. Freefall can wait.”
“Roger that, Archer . . . uh, Riley. Straight to Coredei it is. Hopefully that Confed fleet will think we’re from there.”
“Good call. Let’s do it.”
Ericca held her course and speed, and the fleet faded into the distance, but never altered course. “I love a star-filled sky on a clear night, Riley. But there’s nothing more breathtaking than being out here in it.”
Riley glanced around. “Straight is the course, and long is the journey at any speed, sis. Trust me. You’ll grow bored with this view before long.”
Ericca sat back to relax as Viper sped on. “I don’t mind. Right now I’ve had my fill of excitement.”
Riley chuckled.
“Yeah, Riley? What’re you finding funny?”
“Our call signs. Rachel started this with her wanting to be called Race.”
“Yep.”
“Have you noticed Josh won’t play?”
“Yes,” Ericca mused aloud. “He’ll only call her by her given name.”
“That’s because she calls him Chisel, a play on his last name, and—”
“And he doesn’t like it,” Ericca said. “And for good reason. It’s a stupid handle. If Rachel wants him to call her Race, she’d better wise up and stop calling him a tool.”
“Yep.”
“Have you told her that?”
Riley laughed. “Why would I do that?”
“She’s your best friend.”
“I’m staying out of it. I’d rather they worked it out for themselves.”
“Smart.”
“It is funny though. Worth a few chuckles while it lasts.”
“You certainly are ornery, Archer, uh, Riley.”
“I can be.”
This was going to be another long, boring stretch with nothing to do. The temptation to taunt his sister was just too much for Riley to resist. And besides, there was still this business of her sullen behavior. If he could only get her to talk about what had gotten her down.
He reached up to give her hair a tug.
Before he could touch it, her zipgun appeared over her shoulder. It aimed squarely at his face.
Blast! thought Riley. “Who put eyes in the back of your head?”
“I didn’t have to look back, little brother. I know you. Care to lose that eyebrow after all?”
“No, no. I’m good.”
“You better be.”
Eleven hours later, Riley saw something in his scanner’s scope. “Seems to be flashes. Cannon fire, maybe? I’m not sure.”
“Direction?”
“Actually, Cap, it’s on our current flight path.”
“Understood, but let’s keep a close eye on it. These are pirate’s waters.”
Riley smirked. Sounded like a silly way to put it. “Waters, sis?”
“Yeah. It’s something Dad used to say. It beats saying ‘these are pirate’s vacuums.’ Though technically accurate, sounds stupid. And me? I’m all for opting out of sounding stupid.”
“Umm,” Riley chuckled. “Too late, sis.”
“Just keep your eyes on what’s ahead, Archer, umm, Riley.”
Ericca wasn’t beyond sounding stupid at times. In fact, she chose her words carefully just to sound lame now and again. It was comic relief she and Riley would use once they were back with the family. The family. Well, he saw everyone aboard Freefall as his family whether they were blood related or not. Captain and Mrs. Kori did their level best to make the crew feel that way.
Riley smiled to himself. He liked the idea of being a comedian. He enjoyed giving everyone a good laugh. Laughter was greatly needed from time to time, especially out here in the void.
To travel from one planet to the next could take days, even weeks. To tell a tale or spin a yarn was a welcomed relief from the monotony. Riley was good at it. With his unbridled antics, he made family and friends roll with laughter; sometimes they laughed so hard their ribs would hurt.
And he knew his sister. He knew why Ericca said what she said when she said it—that is, before this little bout of moodiness she had given herself over to. Before Miss Serious took control of Ericca’s brain, she and Riley would play and banter with each other often. With her at his side partying used to be fun. Working together, he and she could really make a party a party. But now Riley didn’t know what to think. Perhaps at their next get-together he would see then if Miss Playful had vanished completely.
If Riley was in a festive mood, what he saw up ahead utterly squashed it.
This was pirate territory, and in Viper, as wounded as she was, their turn to miss a fight was well overdue. But they were Lilia and Stan (Swift) Archer’s kids, after all, and as such they had resigned themselves to help others when and wherever they could. This all too often meant to fight a good fight even when they were too tired to do so.
As they drew nearer, they saw that a very real battle raged, but whom did it involve?
“Alright,” Ericca finally said, “shall we investigate or just leave them to their selves?”
“I am pretty tired,” Riley confessed. “What say we do a fly-by just close enough to check out the sitch, then get to Coredei for repairs? This ship won’t take much more battering.”
“Roger, little brother. Sounds like a plan.” And with that, Ericca altered course slightly as Riley studied his scanner.
As they dre
w nearer, Riley made out some of the greater power spikes. “Sis, I’ve got Confed engine signatures. The Confederation’s probably fed up with the pirate stronghold—their meddlesome interference and all.”
Ericca snarled but, even in that, her tone was blasé. “Great! Bad guys against bad guys. Gee, which side do we root for?”
“Well, since we need Coredei intact to make repairs . . .”
“Right. A part of me wants Coredei thrashed, though.”
“Just stay clear of the fight,” Riley said. “But I say the pirates had better win this one. Confederates on Coredei won’t make our repairing Viper easy.”
She began to arc back around to leave the area and head toward the pirate planet.
Riley perked up. “Wait! I’ve got something, Ericca. Turn back.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ericca turned back toward the conflict. “What do you see, Archer?”
“There’s a Providence ship in the mix, sis. Look! Another. And another! Hey, a Providence fleet is mixing it up with the Confederation! Yeehah!”
“Alright!” Like the thrill of a long-awaited sporting event’s arrival, a shiver ran up her spine. But to Ericca this was even more than that. Unlike a common fan, she could run down to the field and join the players up as one of them. “Now we have someone to root for. Let’s go and lay some serious whoopin’ on the bad guys.”
“In a wounded ship? Are you nuts?”
“I have a plan.”
Archer took an unenthusiastic breath. “Roger that, Cap,” he said, pushing aside his trepidation. “I’ll trust you do. Hang in there, Providence. Here comes the cavalry.”
“Yeah!” Ericca brought Viper’s throttle up to full. She loved Rachel’s creation more than Freefall itself. The little Viper was her baby, and she felt more secure in its tight cockpit, battered ship or not, than in Freefall’s spaciousness.
Fact was Freefall didn’t need her at all. Jordon had often piloted the ship from the lounge or even from his bedroom by simply calling out commands. But to pilot this craft, the little two-seat Viper was for the most part hands-on.
Ericca settled down in her well-cushioned leather seat and tabbed her console. With a mechanical hum, a joystick ascended in front of each hand. Fashioned for her hands alone, the leather stretching tightly over the molded titanium grip was cool to the touch.
She glanced at Archer and saw his lack of enthusiasm. “You okay?”
Ericca couldn’t miss the weary look in his eyes. Viper may have been a battle hungry monster, but its gunner had had a belly full of riding the edge. He needed rest. So did she.
“Yes. Sure. It’s serious battle time. Yeehah.” He settled back in his own posh seat and pressed a button. Before each hand arose his own joysticks—seven buttons on each grip brought control of all the weapon’s to his fingertips.
A short while ago, Mara thought they needed a shuttle. Something small that Ericca and Archer could use for reconnaissance. Its purpose was to supplement Freefall when they needed to be in two places at once. Viper, Ericca’s then worn and weary puddle-jumper, served as the foundation and framework for Rachel’s custom components. Her enhancements modified this ship well enough to make Viper deadly. In Rachel’s mind, once modified, Viper fit the bill perfectly. Mara was satisfied. Rachel was proud. The Archers were elated.
Presently, both fleets stubbornly faced off with neither side willing to give an inch to the other. The Confederation fleet outnumbered the Providence ships by a good fifty percent. After all, this was their territory, and it was clear they meant to keep it.
However, the Providence ships were of the latest technology and design. They were better able to take a hit, as well as dish up some battle-tested meanness of their own.
If not for two Confed carriers, both forces were pretty evenly matched. Four Talon squadrons— naturally considered the tiebreaker—promised the Confederate fleet a swift victory. Ericca and Archer believed the Providence fleet was about to get the whooping of a lifetime.
Just about two years ago, sixteen-year-old Rachel took one look at Viper, and worried the little puddle jumper could no longer get Ericca and Archer from point-A to point-B safely. So she tackled the issue the only way she knew how. Gadgets. With her modifications, Viper could now very well turn the tide . . . had, of course, the little spacecraft not already been wounded.
Closer and closer, the tiny two-man Viper screamed toward certain peril. Perhaps the saying is true. Maybe only fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Maybe this is what really differentiates men from angels to begin with. Firemen dash into burning houses, believers cling to their faith even in the face of lions, and Ericca and Archer face down Confed Talons even when the odds are clearly against them. Ericca’s heart leapt at this chance. For her, to join the good guys in their struggle against bad was what she lived for. But why?
The Providence military had never before crossed the Confederation border uninvited. The Union’s policy, up until now, was to strongly defend its own boundary. Never before had the Providence Union of Planets used its forces to be the aggressor, so, in Ericca’s mind, it was a sure bet that they had good reason to do so this day.
She remembered that certain feeling she got when she was a child when Daddy finally came. It was a particular kind of joy and excitement that overcame her. That same feeling overtook her now, the moment she saw the Providence flag painted across the conning tower of some of these vessels. Providence had breached the tyrant’s wall to come to someone’s rescue. As far as Ericca was concerned, to join them in their effort—to actually be here when history started to unfold—elated her no end.
“I can’t say why, sis, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous. I’ve never fought alongside Providence ships before. I’m reluctant to do so with a hurt ship. What’ll keep them from firing on us? Should I radio our approach?”
“Leave that to me, Archer. We won’t announce ourselves just yet.”
“Have you ever fought alongside Providence ships, sis?”
“Actually, I have. Well, not me per se, but Mom and Dad have. That was a long time ago though, and I was just along for the ride. I remember in our old freighter they were scared—really scared—though I don’t remember why.”
“So, what’s protocol in a situation like this? If we don’t announce ourselves, what will keep the good guys from shooting us?”
Ericca glanced at her monitor. Archer definitely looked anxious. She was tempted to tease him a bit—tempted—but the unction to do so was fleeting. He was ornery at times, a bit of a rascal when he tugged her hair or said things just to annoy her. Sometimes he even played a practical joke or two, but he was never truly mean or hurtful; she had to give him that.
“Archer?”
“Yeah, sis?”
“You’re going to do just fine.”
“Yeah?”
“How many teenagers get to play with the big boys? We play this right, you might even save a life or two. Who knows?”
“It’s just that . . .” He dropped his gaze.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’ve never distrusted Viper before. She’s wounded, and I don’t know how well it’ll hold together. Another blow or two . . .”
Her smile, though faint, was a smile nonetheless. “She will do just fine, little brother. She’s a battle hungry monster. You know that. I pity the fool that finds himself in our crosshairs.”
Her brother was all of seventeen, almost a man really, almost, but not quite. There was a difference between what they had done and this. Before playing cat and mouse with the Confeds was dangerous, but they weren’t obliged to stick around when things got hairy. This though. What they were about to do in this current battle was jump headlong into danger and stay there until the job was done. Viper was already hurt. Archer’s confidence in the little ship hung by a thread.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Admiral Theodore Hammond, aboard his flagship, Noble Sun, leaned forward to study the large viewer. He had
a keen eye for detail.
The enemy wasn’t about to let him pass without an argument. That, he expected. So, although he faced two carriers protected by a compliment of ships that outnumbered his own, a fight he would give them.
Everyone that knew Hammond called him “the Hammer,” and for good reason; when this Hammer struck, the impact broke or bent whatever stood in his way. His crew knew that. Did the enemy?
The two carriers promised that the new Cougar-class Talons would also be in the mix. The little snots were small, fast, and difficult to hit. Like flies, Talons were an annoying irritant that, if used properly, could split Hammond’s focus. Once launched, they’d weave in and amongst the Providence ships to draw fire away from the Confed’s bigger vessels. With half his ships’ barrage turned away toward the lethal Talons, the Confederate Battle cruisers, less opposed, could mount a concentrated assault and turn his advance back in short order. In this battle, Talons were the Confederation’s advantage.
Or were they?
The Talons had yet to be launched.
With no carrier under Hammond’s command, there was little he could do against the small ships. So he looked for weaknesses he could exploit. Every ship, every tactic had them. Finding them was key.
Like football, this was his team against theirs. As coach, he had trained his ship commanders to coordinate as a unit. And to make sure that, as a team, his ships functioned smoothly and seamlessly together, Hammond had each captain command the ship he was best suited to. As in football, Hammond had his offensive guards, offensive tackles, running backs, quarterbacks, and so on, so to speak. When he called a play, he expected his ships to form up and strike accordingly, and that was Hammond’s advantage in every conflict.
However, in every fight, a plan only works until it’s tried. In battle, soldiers must adapt quickly to meet the ever-changing demands of combat.
Hammond unconsciously furrowed his brow as he studied his opponent. He turned to his First Officer. “Cdr. Chase, who’s running the show over there?”
“That would be the Confederate 3rd fleet, sir. Admiral Sebastian Talbot commanding.”
Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) Page 15