Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1)

by Ben Patterson

  “Roger, Dodger. Understood. Tell ‘em you don’t work for free though.”

  “How’s the work on Viper going?”

  “The shields won’t engage. I’m stymied. Captain Kori says a line may have been crossed. Viper isn’t going anywhere tonight. I’ll pick it back up in the morning.”

  “Understood. Talk to you later, then.”

  “Get some sleep, sis. There’s always tomorrow. Riley out.”

  “Good night. Dodger out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Dodger?” Hammond asked.

  “My call sign,” Ericca said. She stepped back from the bars, returned to the cot, and languidly drew a leg up to her chin. Resting an elbow on her raised knee, she rubbed her forehead. “If I didn’t use it, he’d get suspicious. Then he’d try something stupid. I don’t want that. I want him left alone. Understood?”

  “I understand. Your efforts won’t go unrewarded.”

  “Or unpunished. Archer stays out of this altogether. You get Viper. And I get my brother back unharmed.”

  “You did well, Miss Archer. I see no reason to include Riley in our dispute.”

  She dropped her hand from her face to glower at him. “Uh uh. You don’t get that liberty. You don’t have the right to call my brother by his first name. Not you, fasech.”

  “Name calling, Miss Archer? Considering your current circumstances, do you think that’s wise?”

  “You are hardly the injured party here, Hambone. The points against you are quickly piling up. And name calling is hardly just recompense when compared to what you’ve done to me. And I have a long memory so don’t threaten me or my brother again.”

  “You just continue cooperating and I promise no harm will come to you or your brother.”

  “Your word means very little at this point, Hamfat.”

  “Defiant to the end, hmm.” He took and released a heavy sigh. “Very well.” With that he turned from her cell and walked away.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jordon glanced up and caught Josh’s forced smile. “You ready, son? You seem worried.”

  “You take Pigship A, sir, and I’ll take Pigship B. Is that alright?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure. Umm, Pigship?”

  “Rachel decided those names were as appropriate as any.”

  Jordon laughed as he dropped his eyes to Nate who stood beside him. He patted the boy’s shoulder. “You have the con, son. You should be safe enough here in Rhone. But should this battle go sideways, I’ll trust you to get Freefall, my mom, and Rachel to safety.”

  Nate forced a brave smile. “Yes, sir, Capt. Kori. I know this is just a practice run, but you be safe out there.”

  Jordon sighed, climbed up the side of his Talon and slid down into the seat. Josh followed suit by getting into the other ship. Quickly familiarizing himself with the controls Jordon ran through a mental checklist. He was glad that, though Rachel was a technical genius, his daughter kept the controls simple. He fired up the engines and lifted off, leaving Freefall behind for the first time in a long time. “Stay put, my old friend. We’ll be back to attend to you soon enough.”

  Turning his mind toward the battle ahead, Jordon, with Josh at his side, headed out through Rhone’s gate and entered the asteroids. After a time, they left the ring’s inner curve, circumvented the Saigus sun, and re-entered the asteroids there. Deeper in they passed the buoy they had earlier attached the tracking-jell to. The Confederate tracking-jell was an interesting substance. Except for a slight sheen, it was nearly invisible to the eye. It was a simple matter using a putty knife to scrape it off Freefall and smear it on the buoy. The buoy was then placed in the middle of an open area surrounded by asteroids. Each asteroid would attach to the ones nearest it by Zero-point energy projectors once they were activated. This was the Talon trap. Once the Confed Talons entered the open area, a ball-shaped web would activate. The trap would close. The Talons would be captured.

  “So Nate’s idea really had merit, huh?” Josh said into his headset.

  “It did. Should work as expected,” Jordon said as he focused on the task before them.

  “Captain, you lead. I’ll fly as your wingman.”

  “Roger, Josh. Stick with me, boy.”

  Josh twisted in his seat to peek back between his headrest and canopy. Several rebel ships, attached to a few asteroids, were barely visible. “Captain, I hope this works.”

  It occurred to Jordon that he didn’t need a fancy flyboy right now. He needed a master tactician. Luckily that person sat in the Talon next to his.

  “Josh, I’m releasing lead to you.”

  “But Captain, I’m not a seasoned pilot like you. I’m nowhere near as good.”

  “You don’t have to be, son. Just see everything around you as a great big 3-D technical schematic and put your ship where it’ll be of most use. Don’t even think about it. Just go by instinct.”

  “Yes, sir,” Josh said. Though reluctant he took the lead.

  Jordon looked to his left. Suddenly Josh swung hard over. Jordon, in Pigship A, stayed glued to him as if a part of Joshua’s ship, sort of. He bounced a bit but Jordon thought he did incredibly well. It had been ages since he had flown anything hands-on, and that craft was only a shuttle. There’d be no shaking him . . . the prefect wingman. He grinned to himself. He still had the knack.

  Jordon ran his fingers through his hair. Yeah, right. Who was he kidding? In his gut, he knew better.

  Chapter Thirty-Five-X

  On the Confederate 9th fleet’s flagship, as if he were out for a day in the sun, Admiral Samuel Fulvus strolled down the narrow corridor on his way to the bridge. Sgt. Thuggins, his personal guard, fallowing two paces behind him, carried his M1-AH hand-cannon as if he was eager to demonstrate its use.

  This is going to be an easy couple of years, thought the admiral. Coming to know the old senator was indeed the right move for him. The advice the old man had given him was good. And Thuggins, the senator’s hand-picked guard, had proven to be a huge asset.

  Currently, those heading toward Admiral Fulvus stepped aside and came to attention until he passed. Those in a hurry behind him dared not go around under penalty of the admiral’s wrath, which more than likely would entail an unpleasant encounter with the butt of Thuggins’ hand-cannon. Fulvus knew his ‘commanding’ presence in the passage created a bottleneck no one dared dislodge, but so what? It pleased him no end to wield such power. Though a political appointee with no military experience, Fulvus was this flotilla’s commanding officer, and that was just the way it was going to be. Rumors about him spread, of which he was fully aware. Some said he rose through the ranks to his present position by assassinating his superiors. Others said he had wealth enough and used it to grease the right palms. Regardless, no one believed he garnered his post by true merit; his records on the matter were sealed. Only he and Thuggins knew the rumors about him were untrue, but he would just as soon leave everyone else guessing.

  One thing was firm; the sentences he had ordered would see to it no one else would allow a small craft to piggyback on one of his ships ever again. The guards that had discovered the little, two-man ship, and had subsequently let it to escape—instead of the medical attention they needed—were allowed to keep their spacesuits. In this matter, Fulvus smiled at his generosity. Those idiots would need their suits where he had sent them; adrift in the vacuum of space. There was a chance, though slim, that a passing ship would rescue them, and that was something. In addition, and for good measure, the captain of the Prince Rutherford was forced to join the offending soldiers. Probably not a wise move on Fulvus’s part; few had received special training for the Rutherford which was a new type of weapon. Suffice it to say, this Fulvus was determined to be as ruthless as any man before him.

  He entered the bridge and took his place in the command chair.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Two hours after he had gone to bed Riley got up to remove an air duct cover, and peeked inside. “Okay, that lo
oks tight,” he muttered to himself, “but doable.”

  Hoisting himself up, he climbed inside. The course to Long Bow’s hanger was twisty, turny, long, and difficult crawling on his elbows and knees—impossible to do had he been a bigger man. Once there he found two guards posted beside Viper. Slipping out of the duct, he quietly dropped to the floor, then crawled silently closer to them. He set his pistol to stun and sneaked closer to the men.

  “Don’t move,” came a voice from behind him.

  He looked back over his shoulder.

  A third guard held a gun on him.

  Riley climbed to his feet, dusted off his hands, and turned with a smile to the man. “Well, hi there.”

  “Mr. Archer, this area is restricted.”

  Scratching his neck Riley sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ll just give me a ticket for loitering and send me back to my room?”

  “I’m afraid not, son. It’s the brig for you. I’ll let Cap sort this out in the morning.”

  “Yes, well . . .” Riley cleared his throat and raised a coy grin. “I’ll tell you what; surrender now, and I’ll go easy on you. Deal?”

  The guard cocked his head quizzically then laughed. Grabbing Riley’s shirt collar, he jerked the boy forward. “Come on.”

  With swift and sudden moves, Riley knocked the guard’s hand free, spun, and drove it up behind his back: leverage, torque, nerve pinch, and the guard found himself immobilized by torrents of pain shooting through his spine, neck, and arm.

  “Now, sir,” Riley said firmly, “I’ll be taking my ship.”

  Seeing this, the men guarding Viper split up to flank Riley from two directions.

  The guard he had pinned to the ground laughed. “Now what are you going to do, boy? Your ship is dead. You’re outnumbered. And you have no place to go.”

  “Viper,” Riley said calmly, “a little help here, please.”

  The ship came to life and rose from the floor.

  Startled, the guards turned to the small craft and raised their rifles.

  “You still have no place to go,” said the man whose arm was wrenched up behind his back.

  Riley twisted it slightly.

  The man winced and grimaced. “Give it up. You’re still trapped.”

  “First things first,” Riley said. “My plan is to knock all three of you out, then free my sister. Easy-peasy.”

  The guard laughed again. “Yeah, right! You don’t have a cha—”

  “Viper! Now!”

  The small ship released three focused beams. All three men crumpled to the floor like discarded marionettes.

  Riley dusted off his hands. “That, gentlemen, was step one.”

  Long Bow’s internal sensors detected the energy bursts, setting off twirling red warning lights with the sudden blare of a klaxon.

  “Stand down, Mr. Archer,” came a man’s voice over the loudspeakers.

  Riley looked up to the flight control booth. With a soldier on either side of him, Torrington peered down at Riley.

  “Surrender now, Captain, and I’ll go easy on you!” Riley shouted up to him. “Don’t, and I’ll make sure you hurt . . . severely. And just so you know the mood I’m in, I’ll be disappointed if you to give me any reason to go easy on you.”

  Two doors opened and in rushed armed guards. Keeping a safe distance they surround Riley.

  “You’ve got nowhere to go, son,” Torrington said. “Stand down.”

  “On the contrary, sir. You’ve given me everything I need for the prisoner exchange.”

  As Torrington watched Riley dropped flat. Viper fired a broad energy burst. More marionettes with their strings cut crumpled to the floor.

  Riley stood and with a sinister smile, looked up at Torrington. “Wait right there.”

  Climbing into Viper’s front seat, Riley raised the small craft and turned its bow guns on Torrington. “Like I said, Torrington, if you surrender, I’ll go easy on you. So please . . . please run.”

  Wide-eyed Torrington stared in disbelief at the little assault craft. After a quick moment he, with his two guards fast behind him, scrambled for the door.

  Riley grinned at that. “Thanks, dillweed; just what I wanted.” He moved Viper forward and up to the booth. Pressing his ship’s nose to the glass he pushed until it burst. Entering the booth he followed Torrington into the corridor. The captain was now running to get away. Flying fast Riley knocked Torrington’s men to the floor then plowed into the commander to drop him as well. Dipping Viper’s nose to the captain’s chest Riley pinned the Capt. Torrington to the deck. A mere four feet separated Riley from his captive.

  “You, sir, are my prisoner.”

  “Off. I can’t breathe,” Torrington gasped out the words as if Riley’s cared.

  “You didn’t surrender, sir. Now there’ll be no going easy on you. Perhaps next time a Archer speaks, you’ll listen. However . . . in this instance I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “What do you want?”

  “So here we are; me in the mood to rough someone up, and you needing to be roughed up . . . a lot.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to consider something new. Now that Viper is inside your ship, you can’t shoot her with your big guns. But she can shoot you. In fact, I can take my sweet time and thoroughly wreck your ship, and all from the inside. Whattaya think about them apples?”

  “WHAT do you WANT?”

  “I want you to consider the mess your bad decisions have gotten yourself into. And here, after my sister and I risked everything to help you out of the jam you were in, look what you did. Really? Seriously? You, sir, are a man without honor.”

  “Fine! I’m a man without honor. What do you want?”

  “What in the seven heavens do you think I want: what’s behind door number three; universal peace, an end to hunger, a date with Sustus Meeka in a fine restaurant Saturday night? What the devil do you think I want, bonehead? I want my sister returned to me. And I want an apology from Hammond himself broadcast throughout this fleet. I want his surrender.”

  Torrington was beginning to sweat. The weight of Viper was taking its toll. “That isn’t going to happen,” he grunted.

  “Ah! You may be right regarding my asking for his surrender. That might be over the top. But you see, after I totally destroy Long Bow I’m going to shove your vessel right up Noble Sun’s derriere and end his ship altogether. And there isn’t thing one you, nor he, can do to stop me. Fact is, to get my sister’s safe return I’m willing to crush your chest right here and now. Then I’ll start with a little of this.” Riley tabbed the touchscreen on his console. Viper’s shields, expanding outwardly, pressed against the corridor bulkheads which buckled under the pressure with loud snaps, sproings, and cracking.

  “Okay, okay! Enough!”

  “Send word to Noble Sun. You got thirty minutes to get her here before I bring down Viper’s full weight on you. I will crush you. Don’t think I won’t. And trust me; if it comes to that I’ll wreck more of your ships until your admiral complies. Got that?”

  Torrington nodded then gestured to one of the guards who had since climbed to his feet. The man hurried off.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Captain Cagle followed the Confederate fleet at a safe distance. Where such a taskforce went was of little concern to him; what they left behind however, wherever they wound up, was everything. Confed flotillas like this one usually left destruction in their wake, and that was all that mattered to a salvage-jack and his crew. Like Remoras following sharks, Cagle’s small contingent, feeding on the scraps the big ships left behind, presented no threat to the Confeds. His little band of aging ships would draw little if any attention from the big guns ahead.

  So far, following this fleet had paid off in spades. Cagle and his men had watched something small, zipping around and in between the big ships, tearing sizable chunks from the big ships. The metal debris, like morsels of food, had left the scrappers something to nibble on, whetting their appetites fo
r more. Torn to pieces Talons too were something of a prize. His men not only gathered tritium steel from them, but recovered two Dirium cannons as well.

  “Sir,” the helmsman said, “we’re coming up on nine bodies. There space suits seem intact.”

  “Slow to half harbor speed, Johnny. Let’s see what we got.”

  “Aye, sir.” Johnny tabbed his console’s icons in sequence and powered down then engines.

  “Open forward bay, and bring them in.” Cagle tabbed his intercom. “Security detail to forward bay. Spacesuited men; if any are still alive, lock them in the brig.”

  “Captain,” Johnny said, “the fleet’s course is straight and true. Looks like Saigus is their destination.”

  “Shall I warn Saigus?” the radioman said.

  The captain turned to him. “Do you have a channel Saigus will pick up that the Confeds won’t?”

  “Um, no sir. Point taken.”

  Cagle turned back to the main view screen. “Yes,” he muttered under his breath, “let’s draw fire from the confeds, shall we? I haven’t been blown to smithereens in a while.”

  In time they neared the adrift spacemen and tractored them aboard.

  “Sir,” came a call to the bridge, “Jentry here. These men are alive, sir. Every one of them. There is a Commander York here as well.”

  “Send the men to the brig, Jentry, and escort the commander up here.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Determined to have their prey, Fulvus’s fleet doggedly followed the well-planted tracking signal. Freefall was just a rumor to all but the Prime Minister, Fulvus, and the Confederate Intelligence Agency (C.I.A.). At the PM’s behest the C.I.A. acquired its information through less than painless means. In that regard, a former Los Dabaron Major named Richardson had proven himself most valuable . . . once pressure and coercive drugs were used. One C.I.A. official said he was amazed at what it actually took to get Richardson to spill. And even then it was like prying open the locked jaws of a pit-bull. The man’s mind was far more disciplined than any in the agency had encountered before.