Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1)

by Ben Patterson

  In moments Admiral Talbot was on Admiral Hammond’s view screen. Talbot stood near his helmsman and looked seriously worried that his ship might be next on Long Bow’s hit-list. And though he couldn’t hide his concern, he spoke with all the pomposity he could muster. “Have you decided to surrender, Admiral?”

  Hammond spoke as though Talbot’s opinion mattered to him. “Actually, I was about to have Long Bow launch another ship-killer, just for good measure. You understand. After all, you haven’t seen what one can do to a large ship. It really is quite an impressive little device. I was thinking for this demonstration I’d use your flagship as its target. An up close demonstration of its destructive power might impress you. Shall I target your ship and order the launch? You really must see this.”

  Talbot turned and took a few steps casually back to his command chair, then seated himself as if he was indifferent to his dire situation. In the time it took him to put on such airs, another twenty of his men had died—but what were their lives to him? His own life, though . . .

  “What are your terms for my surrender?” Talbot asked gruffly.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When the lights came on, Ericca and Archer found themselves in a huge cargo hold. Several men were dousing Viper in a cloud of fire-suppressant. As Viper’s last bit of energy drained away to flat-line, the canopy faded with it until it disappeared completely.

  Ericca ran a hand down her face then pushed to her feet. As she stepped out of the small craft a curious soldier lent her a helping hand.

  “Miss,” he said, “there’s an escort coming down from the bridge to fetch you.”

  Ericca dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you,” she said, turning to her spacecraft to assess the damage. “Oh, my poor baby,” she said, patting its side panel. “Don’t you worry. I’ll get you back on your feet in no time.”

  Archer stepped from the ship and looked at Viper. “Oh, man. Those idiots scratched the paint.” No one laughed. He sighed. “Tough audience,” he muttered.

  “So where are we?” Ericca asked, as she poked and prodded at the damage.

  “You’re aboard the Providence Assault cruiser, Long Bow, Miss,” answered the young officer who had helped her from the ship, “Captain Torrington, commanding.” He nodded toward the door. “Your escort, Miss. They’ll take you to him.”

  Disheartened by the amount of damage Viper had taken she sighed. When she looked up she saw one young ensign lead four armed soldiers into the bay. While two took positions to guard Viper, the other two stayed by the ensign’s side. “I’m Ensign Dooley, Ma’am. I’m to escort you and your . . .”

  “Flight partner,” Ericca answered. “I’m Ericca Archer and this is my brother, Riley.”

  “Yes, ah hmm. Miss Archer, please follow me to the bridge. Our captain awaits. Mr. Archer, would you care to join us?”

  “I’ll stay with my ship, thank you. I need to assess the damage. Sis, you go on ahead. Offer the captain my sincere apologies.”

  “I’ll do that, Archer. I’m sure he’ll understand.” She slipped out of her grey flight suit coverall, found her leather jacket, and shrugged it over her shoulders. Retrieving her holster and pistol, she started to strap it on, but Ensign Dooley stopped her. “Sorry, Miss. Side arms aren’t allowed on the bridge.”

  “Is that so?” she said as she finished strapping it on.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s protocol.”

  “Then tell your captain, this is where I’ll be. He can pop down whenever he’s free.”

  Dooley stepped away to speak into his collar-com privately.

  Ericca folder her arms and waited.

  Archer stepped up beside her. “Five slips of gold says you stay put.”

  “Ten says he invites me up, gun and all.”

  “Easy money. Ten it is.”

  After a moment, Dooley turned to her and beckoned. “This way, ma’am.”

  Archer’s jaw dropped.

  Ericca’ cheeks raised into a smug grin. “You can pay me when you get it,” she said with a wink, then turned and walked away.

  “See you soon, sis.”

  As Dooley led the way, two rifle-carrying guards took positions behind and to either side of Ericca.

  As she disappeared through a door Riley shook his head in disbelief. Turning to his ship, he knelt by the badly damaged engine to inspect it, chuckled to himself.

  “You find the damage funny, sir?” asked a guard.

  “No. I just can’t believe they’d let my sister on the bridge armed.” If they only knew that with a pistol she was fast, accurate, and deadly, they would’ve opted to come down here to meet her. He hmphed.

  “Can you gentlemen get a power-strip over here? And I’ll need to contact our home ship to get our mechanic’s help on this.”

  The lead man gestured to one of his men, who hurried away to do as Riley asked. “We can get a cord over here, but we can’t divert power to you, young man, until Capt. Torrington gives us the okay. As for calling home, I’m not sure that’ll pass muster.”

  “Fine. No issues. These repairs look well beyond my abilities anyway.”

  “Torrington is a fair-minded man, Mr. Archer. I’m sure you’ll have everything you need once word comes down from the bridge.”

  The bridge was a busy, bustling hive of activity. Captain Torrington, on his feet, leaned over the shoulder of one helmsman. The lift door hissed open.

  “Wait here, miss,” someone behind him said before stepping down into the bridge deck. He came to the captain and whispered into his ear. “Captain Ericca Archer, sir.”

  Torrington looked back over his shoulder. A young woman, average height, wearing dark leather head-to-toe, stood relaxed at the door. In boots that rose to her knees, her feet were firmly planted and slightly parted. No more than her fingers hid comfortably in her pockets as she looked around the room. Under dark, almost black hair, her fair skin was clean and healthy. A well-worn holster rested low on her hip and was tied to her thigh. On a street on Praxis, or Talimore, or Enri, the shapely girl might have gone unnoticed. But here on his bridge the girl drew furtive glances from everyone who had heard her come in.

  Torrington patted the shoulder of the helmsman. “Keep a sharp eye, Johnny,” he said before straightening. He turned to the young lady pilot. “Captain Archer?”

  Her eyes turned to his, and she dipper her head.

  No, he though, she’d stand out no matter where she was.

  Her face was a mask of indifference. “Captain Torrington?” she said with a voice soft and sexy.

  He was much younger than she expected, dark-skinned, and . . .

  . . . at first blush, she thought he was downright beautiful. Though his face was unmoved, his dark eyes were bright and friendly. His was the kind of face that made teenagers’ hearts go pitty-pat. Immune, Ericca hmphed.

  “I’m rather busy at the moment, Captain Archer. Would you mind waiting in the conference room.”

  Ericca looked at the screen, and raised a finger to ask for one moment. Stepping past Torrington, she pointed to a Confed destroyer on the view-screen. “That’s your key, sir. Treated right, he’ll help you get back to your fleet.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Two torpedoes . . . one here, and one . . . there,” she urged, pointing to the destroyer’s rear parts. “Then bring Long Bow back across and through here. He’ll follow, and then you’ll have him.”

  “Do you honestly believe he’ll break ranks, Captain?”

  “I do. Confed ship captains are full of themselves. The bigger the ship, the greater the ego. Pat his butt once or twice and he’ll chase you like an angry barmaid.”

  Torrington’s face was a mix of amusement and doubt. “Okay. Let’s give that a go, shall we? Torpedoman, ready two, and aim for whatever targets Captain Archer tells you.”

  Without a smile, Ericca dipped her head to Torrington once again before walking over to the torpedoman’s station. She pointed to the ship and the chosen targets.


  “Fire when ready,” Torrington said.

  Both torpedoes flew straight and true. Upon connecting, the destroyer buffeted. It pulled back out of the fleet and—lumbering like a drunken sailor—turned to Long Bow.

  “Now cut through there,” Ericca commanded.

  Torrington gave a nod to the helmsman, who in turn drove Long Bow into the enemy fleet where Ericca had said.

  As the destroyer came about the fleet ships nearest him backed out of their positions as well. The ships nearest them began to jockey for an exit to follow the others and soon the entire fleet began to break ranks and scatter.

  Hammond, intensifying his fire, brought Talbot’s fleet to complete disarray.

  Meanwhile, as Torrington entered the enemy fleet from its rear, he opened up on them with all his guns.

  More Confederate ships scattered, and Talbot soon found his flagship overrun.

  Ericca looked at Torrington blandly, and gestured to the conference room. “Wait in there, you said?” With that, she stepped off the bridge leaving Torrington slack-jawed.

  Half an hour had passed before Torrington stepped into the conference room with his First officer at his side.

  Ericca, sitting quietly with a holo-fashion magazine in hand, looked up. “Things are now well-in-hand, I take it?”

  Torrington, with knit brow, shot a thumb over his shoulder toward the bridge. “How did you know that would work?”

  She snorted a half-laugh. “If a man smacks a barmaid’s behind she’ll scowl and storm away. But if a man smacks another man’s behind, the response will be quite different.”

  “That’s true, but how does that apply here,” he said taking a seat across from her.

  The first officer dropped into a chair between them, then swiveled to face her. His posture was relaxed, but guarded.

  “What? You’ve never been in a bar fight?” Ericca said. “Seriously?”

  “Mmm, no. Can’t say I have.”

  She chuckled. “You gotta get out more. That Confederate fleet fell apart because you turned a battle into a bar fight.”

  “How did you know torpedoing that ship would make that happen?” he said still dismayed.

  “Those Confed ships’ captains aren’t fools. Well, they are. But given half a chance each one would leave a battle if, in their own mind, they could justify doing so. None of them wants to be there, not really. So use that. Pirates do it all the time.”

  “Indeed?”

  “That destroyer captain couldn’t let an assault on his hindquarter go unanswered. You, a man, had just slapped his behind. That was all the excuse he needed. In his mind, that was a justifiable reason to leave his position and go after you. All he wanted was to bring you to task for your insulting him. But those around him didn’t know that. He backs out of the fight. The smaller ships around him, once abandoned, feel vulnerable, so they back out of the fight as well. And as each captain moves to save himself, so goes discipline. Fear rippling through the fleet has its desired effect. The whole taskforce loses its needed cohesion. The whole thing falls apart. And our side wins. Yea.”

  Torrington cocked his head. “You couldn’t possibly have known that would work.”

  “Evidently, I did. I don’t have to be an egg to know what an omelet is.”

  “And just what does that mean?”

  “I don’t have to be a narcissist to know how an arrogant man thinks. Such traits make certain people predictable. The trick is to trigger ‘group-think,’ without them knowing what you’re doing.”

  “Amazing,” Torrington said, then he started to chuckle. His first officer began to snigger as well. And then both men began to laugh outright. In another moment, both settled down. Still wearing a smile, Torrington studied the young woman for a moment.

  “Well, look,” Ericca said. “My ship is totaled. Is there any way you can help a girl out?”

  “I can lend you a shuttle.”

  “I was thinking more in the lines of materials, components, that sort of thing. If we can get Viper space-worthy, we’ll finish repairs on Coredei.”

  “Considering all you’ve done for us, I think we can manage that. Anything else?”

  “I’m tired, sir. And I’m certain my brother is as well. Could you spare a bed or two? Not to put anyone out or anything. A cot in some quiet corner for a few hours will suit us just fine.”

  “No issues, Captain Archer. I think we can arrange something last minute. Your ship—Viper was it? What would you like done with it in the mean time?”

  “If you can spare the men, I’d like it guarded around the clock.” She scratched the back of her neck and tried to think of what more she might have need of, but through a tired mind, nothing came to light.

  “A meal, Capt. Archer? When did you last eat?”

  “Once we’ve had time to rest, sir, I wouldn’t mind some breakfast. Sure. But for now we’re good.”

  “Very well. Might I add, you had an impressive little ship.”

  “Have, sir. I have an impressive little ship. I don’t want to count it lost just yet. I want a chance to fix it first.”

  “Ah, yes. And so you shall.” He turned to his second in command. “Mr. Childers, please post guards per Capt. Archer’s request. Have Mr. Archer brought up, and see that both he and our good captain here get settled into our VIP rooms. During their stay, I want a personal attendant assigned to each of our guests.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “And Capt. Archer, Admiral Hammond would like to see you aboard his ship at your earliest convenience. Shall I tell him it’ll be ten, maybe twelve hours?”

  Ericca sighed. “By all means, please. Oh, and make it twelve.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Once settled into her room, Riley came to hers to watch Hammond’s ship wide broadcast of the affairs of state. Ericca turned the volume up so she and Riley could better hear. Hammond held negotiations on an open frequency. Everyone who could listen did just that, which included the Viper crew.

  Raising his feet to an ottoman, Riley leaned back and chuckled. “Oh, this is going to be good. I wish we had popcorn.”

  The rectangular holograph screen was split to display both Hammond and his adversary. Ericca gripped the corner and the screen moved with her touch. She turned it so both she and Riley could better see.

  Admiral Hammond’s tone—all business—only hinted of polite patience, but the look in his eye said he wouldn’t tolerate being tested. “Before we can discuss terms you will surrender immediately and cease fire.”

  Talbot nodded to his communications officer. Instantly his few remaining vessels ceased firing. The Providence fleet, in turn, followed suit. Then Talbot looked at Hammond with dismay.

  “I must admit, Admiral—I believed this day would never come. We all know Providence will, one day, fall under the sheer weight of the freedoms and liberties granted to its citizens just as the old world United States had. I was certain it’d happen during my command.”

  “There are considerable differences between the USA and us, Talbot. Perhaps you should make note of them.”

  Talbot knit his brow. “And what are those, Admiral?”

  “For one, Talbot, we are a people with a government, not the other way around.”

  “And . . .?”

  “And secondly, we in Providence aren’t about to turn our backs on our Creator. Get that straight.”

  Upon hearing that, Ericca winced, then rolled her eyes.

  She’s not alone in her views, thought Riley. He considered himself more of a wait and see kind of guy. He knew some believers. Some were good folk. Others, not so much. When he was younger one had caught his attention. He found her shy smile captivating. Ah, she probably doesn’t even remember me.

  He sighed. There’s just no going back to things since lost.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The following day after breakfast Ericca and Archer agreed to split up. He’d see to Viper’s repairs while she paid her respects to Admiral Ha
mmond.

  Torrington promised Archer all the materials he’d need to get Viper flying again, as well as provide him a way to communicate with Jordon Kori to help with the repairs.

  The flight to Noble Sun—all military protocol and business—in Ericca’s view was slow, uneventful, and, mind numbingly dull. The shuttle pilot brought the small craft around the Noble Sun, requested permission to come aboard, and landed in the aft bay. If only Ericca had had the controls . . .

  She stepped out first and looked around. Right behind her came Torrington. Noble Sun’s large hanger bay was built to receive several large transports or, if it had too, one ship as large as Freefall.

  A young officer stepped forward. “Captain Torrington, Captain Archer, I’m Ensign Smith. Please follow me to the bridge.”

  Ericca considered the handsome young man for a lingering moment. “Lead on, Ensign.”

  The Ensign turned on his heel and led them out. As they walked down the wide corridor, the Ensign glanced at Ericca. “Miss, may I ask how you came by your ship? It has everyone talking.”

  Ericca smiled. “I can’t say, Ensign.”

  Ensign Smith stopped abruptly and turned to the young captain. “Can’t, Miss, or won’t?”

  “You’re out of line, Ensign,” Torrington scolded. “You have your assigned task. I suggest you focus on it.”

  “Sorry, sir.” Reduced to silence, he proceeded to the lift and rode with them up to the bridge.

  Ericca and Torrington stepped off the elevator together, but didn’t go any further.

  Silver-haired and stately Admiral Hammond sat in command.

  Talbot, who was on the main screen, grudgingly listened to the terms of surrender. His face was stone, but in it Ericca thought she saw a heart as black tar. Clean-shaven, his jaw muscles were visibly clinched.

  Hammond held a digital scriptboard. As he studied it, Talbot shifted uneasily in his chair. Hammond purposefully made the man wait before he finally leveled his gaze on his adversary. “Talbot, you will—”