Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1)

by Ben Patterson

  “Admiral Talbot!” Talbot interrupted. “You will address me with respect.”

  Hammond lifted the scriptboard, and shook it. “These are the casualty numbers—care to hear them?” Without waiting for a response, he continued. “Providence 4th Fleet – 24 souls lost in battle this twenty-fifth day of Omere, 2253. Confederation 3rd Fleet – souls lost . . . 3,254.” Without lifting his head, Hammond raised his eyes toward the screen. “You’re not an admiral, Talbot, you’re a butcher.”

  Hammond brought his head up. “Understand this; I will afford you every courtesy due a man of your character, every consideration due a butcher. Am I understood, Talbot?”

  The enemy admiral scowled. “Those numbers show that the mercy shown you is greater than that which you’ve shown me or my men. Let us be straight about that, Admiral.”

  “These numbers,” Hammond said gruffly, “tell us you care little for human life, even for the lives of your own men. You pressed your ships headlong into my guns knowing full well what would come of it. Even at the downing of your ships’ shields you pressed them forward. Mercy? You don’t know the meaning of the word, so let’s be clear about that, Talbot.”

  With a stone face, Admiral Talbot did not respond. What could he say? What was there to say? He was a butcher and Admiral Hammond had nailed that title to his forehead several times over—3,254 times to be exact.

  Ericca exchanged a look with Torrington.

  Even as each man on the bridge attended to his duties, grins of satisfaction rose on every face. In short order, Hammond had put Talbot in his place. The crew took clear, unequivocal pleasure in this; their disdain for the butcher was evident.

  Hammond handed the scriptboard to an aid before he once again focused on Talbot. “Every man on the uninjured ships, Talbot, will transfer to any wounded vessel that can still sustain life and move. On those ships all weapons will be jettisoned along with each ship’s communications array. Those devices we will destroy. The uninjured Confederation vessels, including the flagship, will be surrendered and manned by Providential crews. Then, and only then, will the wounded ships be allowed to return to Parandi. All others will be left for salvagers.

  “Otherwise, Talbot, every man will be taken prisoner. You will be stripped of your rank and housed with the enlisted. The demise of your wounded ships will be left to scrap salvagers. The choice is yours.”

  Ericca was impressed. Clearly Admiral Talbot didn’t like the terms given him but there was no way the man could get more than what had been offered.

  Hammond’s allowing Talbot the freedom to return home, though in disgrace, was generous in the extreme.

  Narrow-eyed and frothing, Talbot nodded. He was in no position to disagree in any event. “You are letting us go then? I have your word?”

  “You have my word as an officer of the Providence Union of Planets. But be warned, Talbot. You may not want to return to the company of your own crew. In their hands, your life may be no better off than those lives you’ve taken.”

  Talbot’s dark scowl increased and he glanced back at his bridge crew before turning disconcerted eyes back to the admiral. “Sir,” he said, “what you say isn’t without merit. I request sanctuary.”

  “Denied.”

  Cut at Hammond’s end, the screen went black.

  It was then that the ensign announced in a clear voice the new arrivals, “Captains Torrington and Archer, sir.”

  As Hammond signed certain documents, Torrington, with Ericca stepped closer. When Hammond completed his tasks he looked up at them coolly, rose to his feet, and took Ericca’s hand. The admiral was tall, and towered over the twenty-year-old by almost a foot. “Captain Archer,” he said, dipping his head. Then, turning to Torrington, he clasped the young captain’s hand. “Welcome aboard Noble Sun.”

  Ericca raised an obligatory smile. “Thank you, Admiral. We were pleased to have found you and your fleet here.”

  He smiled. “It is near suppertime. Would you care to freshen up before joining me and my first-officer, or have you eaten?”

  “I’ve already eaten, Admiral, thanks to Capt. Torrington’s graciousness. I’m here to pay you my respects.”

  “Your respects? Indeed. Captain Torrington has told me what you did. I invited you here to pay you my respects and express my gratitude.” He gestured to a door off the bridge. “Come. Sit. Have some coffee with me and tell me how you’ve come to be here.”

  She nodded, and, with Torrington, followed Hammond into his quarters, which were comfortably dressed in modest tastes of creams and light browns. Ericca eased into a well-cushioned chair. Torrington took another. And the admiral settled onto the couch at the end nearest her.

  Hammond’s personal attendant entered the room bearing a silver coffee pot and china cups on a silver serving tray, He stooped to set the tray on the center table, poured a cup, and cocked his head to address Ericca. “How do you take your coffee, ma’am?”

  “Sweet, a little cream.”

  The aroma was magnificent. It brought back memories of Reliant to days when real coffee wasn’t so scarce. The attendant handed Ericca her cup on a matching china saucer, then prepared the admiral’s and Torrington’s before leaving the room.

  Ericca took a sip. The flavor was every bit as good as the aroma. She rested the cup and saucer on a knee. “We’ve spent the better part of the last two days in Viper, sir, my brother and I. Getting an actual bed to sleep in . . .” She laughed. “I think I may have overslept.”

  Hammond raised a slight grin. “May I ask you who constructed your ship? Viper, you called it?”

  “I bought that little baby in Colchester on Coredei. It’s since been modified. My brother and I now fly security cover for a freighter.” She raised her cup to her lips to sip.

  “Would what you’re calling a freighter be by any chance Freefall?”

  With a furrowed brow, she slowly lowering her cup, and raised her head to meet his eyes. “You’ve heard of Freefall?”

  “My dear girl, Freefall and Jordon Kori are the very reasons we crossed the border.”

  “Seriously? Why, if I may ask?”

  “They sent for aid. We came.”

  “You’ve crossed the border, sir. The Confederacy will see that as an act of war.”

  “That is true. Of late, they’ve been testing our mettle. Tensions have been building between our two nations for quite some time now. This war was inevitable . . . is inevitable.”

  Ericca glanced at Torrington who was quietly sipping his coffee. “Am I to understand that Jordon Kori is the cause of this war?”

  Hammond took a moment to sip his drink. “In a sense, he is. Jordon Kori was a Providence weapons engineer before—”

  “Jordon was? My Jordon?” She chuckled. “We can’t be talking about the same guy.”

  “He disappeared almost seven years ago.”

  “Seven?” Ericca scrutinized Hammond. “He was fifteen-years-old. Are you saying he was a boy when he modified Freefall?”

  “Fifteen? Oh, I see. I was referring to Jordon Sr. Aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t even know there was a Senior. Jordon Kori captains Freefall, sooo . . .”

  Hammond thought for a moment. “So the son captains Freefall now?”

  Ericca shrugged. “If you say so. Have you ever heard of Reliant, sir?”

  He nodded. “Reliant was a weapons test platform. Jordon Kori Sr. modified an old freighter with his gadgets, and sent it into Confed space to see how it would do. Your dad was to go in, aim for the far side of their system, and return. The tech it was equipped with should have made that easy. But we never heard from her again. Up until now we thought the test was a complete failure.”

  Ericca released a surprised breath. Hammond’s account didn’t match up with that of her parent’s. Reliant wasn’t sent, it was taken under extraordinary circumstances. Her heart suddenly throbbed in her throat, and her jaw fell slack. So it was Jordon Kori Sr. who had built the ship that killed her parents? Her mind ra
ced. Now she knew and understood why Jordon Jr. had hired her and Archer; why he made every effort to keep them safe. The man was trying to assuage guilt for acts not his own; nothing more. Her cup fell from her knee. Shattering on the floor, it startled her from her thoughts. With trembling hands, she stooped to pick up the pieces.

  “Leave it,” Hammond said. “I’ll get someone in here to clean that up later.”

  She leaned back and ran both hands down her face together. “Seven years ago, Jordon would have been fifteen. Reliant would have been created when he was born.”

  “Jordon Sr. first modified that old freighter. Jordon Jr. . . . your Jordon Kori, added to his own modification. He was just nine when he began, a prodigy.”

  “Nine?”

  “Yes,” Hammond added. “Even then his work baffled his father. Reliant had Jordon Sr. latest and greatest. Freefall has Jordon Jr’s.”

  “Jordon and my dad . . .”

  “You didn’t know they were the best of friends?”

  “No, wait! Who? Which, Junior or senior?”

  “Senior. I don’t know if your parents ever met the boy.”

  Images flashed across her mind—brief, disjointed, vague —of when she was very young. There was another ship her parents sometimes worked alongside. A boy. Redhead, freckle faced, and tripping all over himself. Was that Jordon Jr.? Is that why he looked so familiar? She jerked her mind from those thoughts and turned to Hammond. “So you know Reliant was my home?”

  “I wasn’t certain. But after seeing Viper in action, and discovering your last name was Archer, yes, that pretty much sealed it for me. News of your father’s death came as quite a blow to those of us who knew him and Lilia. Stanley Archer was our best and bravest test pilot. His family, namely Lilia, Riley, and you, were Swift’s cover-story if he was ever caught.”

  Ericca remembered that ‘Swift’ was her dad’s callsign. She felt her anger rise. “Test platform?” she said with unbridled disdain. “Archer and I—”

  “Archer?” Hammond questioned.

  “My brother, Riley, and I nearly died at Los Dabaron because of that, so-called, test platform.”

  “You call your brother ‘Archer?’”

  “Yes, yes,” she said with growing irritation. “Forget that. If not for Jordon Kori’s gadgets we would never have had to come so close to getting killed. Those stupid gadgets ultimately cost my parents their lives.” She looked at Torrington with hard eyes before turning them back on Hammond. “Test platform? What were you thinking? There were kids on that Test Platform, so-called!”

  Hammond slid to the couch’s edge and set his cup in its saucer on the coffee table. Resting his elbows on his knees, he interlaced his fingers. “Miss Archer, I’m sorry Swift and Lilia were killed. I’m sorry that you feel it was Jordon Kori’s fault. However, in truth it was those devices on Reliant that saved your life at Los Dabaron. Kori’s devices gave Reliant the strength to take on an entire Confed fleet, and singlehandedly hold them at bay long enough for help to arrive. The fact that a ten-year-old—”

  “Are you people insane? I was twelve damn it! Just a kid.”

  “Fine. Think about it. A twelve-year-old captained that vessel. Doesn’t that speak of Reliant’s prowess? My goodness, you captured five of their big ships before they even knew you were among them.”

  Ericca bolted to her feet and stepped away. Rubbing her forehead, she turned back to Hammond. “I cannot believe you people.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “After Los Dabaron, those jerks chased us around like we were a prize thanksgiving turkey. For two solid years we tried to get back to Providence, and now you tell me you wanted us as bad as they did. Do you know what I went through to keep my brother safe after my parents died? Do you have any idea? It was like waking barefoot through broken glass. No kid should go through that.”

  Hammond and Torrington exchanged a look.

  “Damn you people! I wouldn’t have survived Los Dabaron if not for Major Richardson.”

  “Richardson? Yes,” Hammond said stone faced. “Still, it was Kori’s tech that saved lives that day.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, that fancy tech just painted a target on our backs. The atom bomb was created to end a war, and supposedly save countless lives. But did it? No. More people died as a result. As it always does new technology eventually falls into the hands of evil people. Los Angeles, New York, DC, Paris, Berlin; all fell to suitcase-sized nuclear bombs. Jordon’s tech will do the same. It will fall into the hands of bad men. Then what?” She didn’t want to say that it already had. She saw no reason to give these dillholes more than they asked for . . . not these people, not no how!

  “Is that your plan, Miss Archer? Make a few bucks selling this tech to unsavories?”

  “What?” Ericca said, returning to stand behind her chair. “No. Goodness no!”

  “And Providence, Miss Archer? What are your feelings toward us?”

  Ericca studied Hammond’s face then looked at Torrington long and hard before readdressing the admiral.

  “Sir, don’t take this in the wrong way, but where the hell were you when Reliant needed you? So I hear far more good about the Providence Union than I do the Confederacy, but to be honest, I don’t know you. Are you good and honorable men? I hope so, but . . .”

  Hammond turned to Torrington. “How is Riley Archer coming along with the repairs?”

  “My crew is giving him everything he needs. He’s talking to Jordon Kori, and I’m told Mr. Archer believes Viper’s repairs will be completed before long.”

  “Good. Then Archer and I can be on our way?”

  “Actually, Miss Archer—”

  “You keep calling me Miss. I captain Viper. You should address me as Captain. It’s a small point, but it’s—”

  “Actually, Miss Archer, you captain nothing.”

  “What?” Ericca said, suddenly feeling sick. Seeing the direction this conversation was heading, she subtly engaged the com-unit embedded in her jaw. She had encountered Hammond’s attitude before, only it was expressed by King Saundler Blackhart. “Viper is mine,” she said coolly, confident Archer could hear this conversation as well. “I own it. I fly it. I—”

  “Not any more, Miss Archer. The tech on Viper is the property of the Providence government. By default, that makes that ship ours as well.”

  “We’ll just see about that.” Neither man moved as Ericca headed for the door. When it hissed open, two armed guards barred her way. Two more stood behind them. She turned to the admiral. “What is this? Is this how you treat allies?”

  “Viper is far too valuable to leave in the hands of a rogue, Miss Archer.” The man’s face was devoid of all emotions but one; a hint of cold smugness. “You told Captain Torrington that Coredei was going to be your next stop. I’m afraid that revelation sealed your fate and solidified my decision.”

  The guards’ were all the proof she needed to know Hammond had planned taking Viper from the start. “Oh, I see,” she said. “You intend to let Archer—with Jordon Kori’s help—finish with the repairs. Then you’ll what, try to reverse-engineer its components? You intend to incorporate Kori’s tech into your ships.”

  The soldier behind her lifted her pistol from its holster, and handed it to the man behind him. Ericca made no move to stop him.

  “You’re very perceptive, Miss Archer,” Hammond added. “Those devices will be first incorporated into every ship in this fleet. Once we return home, they’ll be built into every Providence military vessel. We will then overrun the Confederation before they can respond to our assault. Once the Confed people are freed from the tyranny that is keeping them down they’ll grow to appreciate what we’ve done for them. And so will you.”

  “Looks to me like we’re just exchanging one tyrant for another.”

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Archer. Providence is a benevolent, God-fearing society. The Confederation is Godless and far from compassionate.”

  “Bene
volent? So then, I’ll just take my ship and leave, if you’re all that benevolent.”

  He smiled. “I had hoped you’d understand.”

  She stepped back into the room and, with her fists on her hips, focused stern eyes on Hammond. “Liberty, Mr. Hammond, that is what I understand. Coming and going as I please. Owning property, which include weapons my government fears. That I understand. And I’m smart enough to recognize a wolf in sheep’s clothing when I see one.”

  “Weapons your government fears? What are you rambling on about?”

  “Something I once heard, sir. Something you would be wise to heed. A government that creates fear in its people is a tyrant. But a government fearing its people . . . is liberty. You may not want me to own Viper, but who are you to say who should own what?”

  “Who do I have to be, child?”

  “You have to be my better, dillhole. Clearly, you are not.”

  Hammond sighed. “I had hoped you’d understand, but apparently you aren’t as bright as all that.” He gestured to the guards at the door. “Lock her up.”

  A guard stepped into the room and clutched her arm.

  She jerked free, and turned to him. “I don’t need your help. Lead on, piggy. I’ll follow peaceably.”

  The guard stepped aside, and she went to the door, looked back over her shoulder, and shook her head in disgust. Then was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Riley studied the damage. Though it looked bad, it wasn’t really beyond his ability to repair, with some guidance. Everything needed was aboard Long Bow. The worst of it? He’d have to completely reconstruct the right wing. Luckily these people had recovered it along with the little ship. Had they not, Rachel’s Phiton cannons could have eventually fallen into the wrong hands.

  The man assigned to help him, though not himself an engineer, knew the tools and instruments. To Riley that was a blessing. The helper could hand him the right thing without offering silly advice or distracting him with stupid questions. Rachel’s tech was well beyond the understanding of any Prov mechanic anyway.