The nose of the pirate cruiser was visible in the floodlights just outside the bay door. Lights on the ceiling of the bay, once dark, flickered, then shone brightly on the upper hull of the ship, as it was guided expertly in by the Landing Observers and Guidance Officer. Battle scars and repairs, hidden in the darkness of space, now became obvious.
Brian shook his head in amazement, watching the Observers walking under the cruiser to check the clearances. "It's like threading the eye of a needle with a damn camel!"
"You mean, passing a camel through the eye of a needle... don't you?" asked Jack, laughing.
"Whatever..." muttered Brian.
"Don't you worry about that, sir," said one of the crew on the deck. "We'll get it in here, you just make sure he doesn't get out."
Touché, thought Jack. They were all in good spirits and he found that very promising.
As the ship inched its way into the bay, it almost completely filled the doorway. To anyone watching from either side, it would've appeared stuck if not for its forward motion. Only the people in the tower could see the full picture of progress, and thankfully, the Guidance Officer gave a running narrative over the com units. It took nearly thirty minutes to get the entire pirate cruiser into the bay, but it entered without adding so much as a scratch, to its fifteen-hundred foot long hull.
"All personnel, clear the pad, prepare for touchdown." The short announcement sent workers and pirate sentries, scurrying off the pad like frightened mice. And rightly so. Any biological lifeform caught underneath a vessel during the use of its suspension field during landing or liftoff would, in short, be compressed flatter than a pancake.
The pirate cruiser was beautiful, in a brutish sort of way. Jack could see the damage and scars, but could imagine her restored to her former self... fast, lethal, clean, pure. He felt a strange sense of excitement, a mixture of anticipation and a slow build-up of adrenaline as the cruiser settled to the deck.
Her bulk was supported by rows of three-toed landing gear with hydraulic legs the size of tree trunks. Jack correctly guessed the gear was designed to evenly distribute the ship's weight automatically on either rough or smooth terrain. With a hiss like a great sigh of relief, the landing legs accepted her weight and leveled the ship high enough to easily move about underneath her hull with service equipment or vehicles.
Jack was in awe. Forget the fact that the cruiser was sitting in the flight bay of a ship that dwarfed her, she was impressive. About four-hundred feet at her widest, Steele was beginning to wonder if they were in over their heads.
"Christ, Steele," said Mike, interrupting his train of thought. "It's as big as the Shenandoah!"
"Actually," interrupted Paul, "I've never seen our carrier from this point of view, but I think the Shenandoah is a little larger. But not by much..." It was then that a frightening thought hit him. "Christ, Jack, the Shenandoah's crew was over four-thousand... this thing's gotta be able to hold at least two-thousand... man, I think we're in over our heads."
Even if Jack had his own doubts, he couldn't let others know it, nor could he let them doubt themselves. "No problem, Pappy. Gant told me a full crew doesn't exceed three-hundred..."
"Three-hundred!? How could you possibly run a ship that size with only three-hundred people?"
Jack shrugged to himself, "Hell, I don't know where you'd put two-thousand. Gant says a skeleton crew of fifty could run her. He's guessing Kidd's crew is in the neighborhood of about one-fifty."
Paul Smiley leaned back against the interior bulkhead of the Sweet Susie and glanced at Mike who was shaking his head. "Imagine that..." said Paul quietly, "you could run that monster with only fifty people..."
Mike stared at his wing leader in the darkness, trying to see his face in the splinters of light coming from the cockpit perspex. "Maybe someday they won't need crews at all..." Both men fell silent and listened to the muffled sounds outside the airplane. The young pilot switched off the miniature microphone on his com unit. "Pappy..." he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"D'you ever think about death? Y'know, dying I mean?" It was the type of thing men only spoke of in the protective veils of darkness, granting all men anonymity.
Paul cleared his throat and remembered the air combat over the arid deserts of Kuwait. He remembered the sight of his first Mig kill. The way his Sidewinder chased up its tail and turned it into a fireball, pieces fluttering and spinning slowly to the ground. There had been no chute. "No," he lied. Silence fell once again. An empty, lonely silence.
Maria sat quietly in the upper turret of the Sweet Susie and very diligently, watched the pirate ship. She found if she breathed slowly, she could almost hear the two pilots below her. She strained her ears to hear a sliver of the conversation, desperately wishing to be included. Unfortunately, before she could determine the gist of what they were saying, it grew quiet. "Drat." It was a feeling greater than just her normal tendency to be nosy, she hated feeling like an outsider. And at that moment, she felt more alone than ever before.
■ ■ ■
Waiting to see what the pirates would do next was like being on pins and needles. Jack relieved the tension by letting his mind wander. Not so far that he was out of touch, but just enough. It wandered home. To a warm, sweet, sun-drenched beach of golden sand, awash with the salty foam of gently rolling turquoise waves... it almost seemed like a place he'd never been, a place he'd only dreamed of...
■ ■ ■
Brian's people were pushed almost as far back as they could go. They watched, weapons ready, as the pirates moved the two Navy F18s toward the pirate cruiser. The pirates were using automatons like the one the pilots had first encountered, to tow the planes around the flight deck.
Two cargo ramps, one port and one on the starboard side of the cruiser, opened like giant maws to receive goods into its belly. More of the pirate crew disembarked, descending down the loading ramps like worker ants to assist in the theft of the precious booty. A small armed detachment of pirate marines joined the original boarding party to help guard the entrances of the cruiser and maintain control over the flight deck. Though they remained vigilant, it was obvious they did not anticipate any problems. Their demeanor was casual, even jovial with comrades and landing pad crew alike. So far, Jack's plan was proceeding almost exactly as planned.
Jack watched carefully as the pirates cleared the way and rigged up two automatons to tow the Sweet Susie into the pirate ship. He was praying they wouldn't feel the need to look inside the B25 before moving it. "Pappy, they're hookin' you up now." Jack heard the thump thump in his headset as Paul tapped on his mic to acknowledge. Jack swiveled around to look across under the cruiser. One of the Navy jets had disappeared, the other was at the foot of the starboard ramp. He almost wished they had taken the B25 in first. This waiting was killing him.
Timing was crucial and time was running short. Pirates were wandering through the rows and stacks of crates to pick and choose their booty... Jack wondered just how long the ambush parties could remain undetected. The B25, towed by the automatons and escorted by several pirate workers, rolled towards the port-side ramp of the cruiser. "Ok people, get ready, we're getting' close..."
“Jack, we've got a rather sticky situation developing..." It was Derrik from the roof of the Control Tower.
"Dammit!" Jack wanted to hit something, "What... Where?!"
"Starboard of the tower, they're getting close to a few of our people..."
"Who?"
"I can't tell..."
"Any way to take them down quietly?"
"Sorry, old boy, not a chance."
Jack eyed the Sweet Susie which had just reached the base of the port cargo ramp. "Damn, we just need another minute or two..."
Derrik watched as Profes
sor Edgars adjusted the rear sight on his carbine. "Uncle says he can hit them easily..."
"No," said Jack, "not yet..." He eyed the B25 which was slowly inching its way up the ramp and the automatons laboring under their heavy tow-load. Hurry up, you lousy overgrown tin slugs... He wanted to scream it, but chewed on his lip instead.
"Oh, man..." Brian pinched the bridge of his nose.
Part of Jack didn't want to ask but he had to know. "What, Bri?"
"Gant is standing right out here in the middle of the pad with that pompous ass, Kidd. They're gonna be right in the middle..."
Jack peered between the crates but could not seem to find them. "Well, let's just hope he's fast on his knees."
■ ■ ■
Raulya could smell the pirate coming, long before Derrik had spotted him as a threat. But she was trapped. During the last pull-back to avoid the foraging pirates, she had chosen a dead end in the maze of crates and storage containers. Separated from her security comrades, she was on her own. "I want all of you to stay put," she whispered into her mic. "We will not jeopardize our goal for just one person." Clothed only in her security uniform and holding an M1 carbine, it would be obvious what her intent was.
Raulya crouched behind her protective cover and watched the burly pirate stroll between the crates and rummage through the containers. He looked big… big and stupid. Her mind raced while she stroked the carbine resting across her thighs. The weapon would be too noisy, she'd have to do him by hand. She was going to need an edge, she'd have to completely surprise him... He was getting close. She quickly pulled off her Comm unit and shoved it between two containers with her carbine...
■ ■ ■
Pangor could hardly believe his luck. The female Ketarian officer was beautiful. Beautiful and unconscious. The pirate stared down at the prone female sprawled at his feet, her tunic laid open to reveal her bare breasts, her uniform pants pulled down to her thighs. It was obvious someone had already had their lustful way with her, but this concerned him not. Women, much less a woman as attractive as this, were more often than not, sold to the highest bidder. And a lowly pirate soldier like Pangor could rarely afford more than the haggard concubines of the various bazaars. He could not resist this delicious opportunity. He glanced cautiously around to be sure he was unobserved. Reassured, he dropped to one knee beside his illicit discovery. He was determined to have her, even if he could not keep her. Pangor laid his laser assault rifle on the deck and slid it carefully out of the way, never taking his eyes off the woman. The lusty soldier rubbed his stubbly beard as he hungrily studied the curvy figure before him.
Letting his desire overtake him, Pangor reached out and stroked the smooth white skin of her stomach as he fumbled clumsily with his own belt. He paused at her breasts and felt her nipples grow firm under his fingers. Losing all restraint, the pirate tore at his clothes as he straddled the woman's body. With the fire of passion burning in his brain, fueled by Raulya's special perfume, Pangor buried his face in her breasts.
Raulya's knee caught Pangor squarely in the groin, toppling him forward. The fire in his brain was replaced by the fire in his loins which raced through his body, crippling his ability to respond. As he cried out, Raulya gripped his head by the hair and brought his throat to her waiting fangs. In a manner more familiar to her ancestors, she instinctively tore the throat out of her enemy.
The taste of fresh blood awoke ancient cravings for battle... the natural animal instincts to hunt and kill. Raulya rolled Pangor's lifeless body off hers, his life's blood spilling across her face, neck and mane. She pulled up her uniform pants and removing the carbine from its hiding place, never bothered to re-button her tunic.
Alerted by the muffled cry of their crew mate, two more pirates moved to investigate the corner occupied by the Ketarian officer. It was a bad decision. The vision that appeared before them was both horrific and unnerving.
Raulya stepped out from protective cover, her eyes glazed, fangs bared, driven with blood lust. Great crimson stains ran down her bare breasts and matted her golden mane. The two pirates stopped dead in their tracks, transfixed by her appearance. Raulya snarled a long, deep, howling cry, which could be heard throughout the landing bay.
Jack's hair stood up on the back of his neck. "What the hell was that?"
"Raulya," was Brian's simple answer. "The proverbial shit is about to hit the fan, Jack..."
Jack glanced up the cruiser's port ramp as the B25's tail vanished through the cargo door. "It's ok, we're ready! Go, Go, Go! Myomerr, take the pirates on the bridge!"
Raulya did not wait for Jack's order, she squeezed the trigger and fire leapt from the muzzle of her carbine. The recoil surprised her but she corrected for the second squeeze. The pirate, still frozen by her horrifying appearance, was knocked backward off his feet. His crew mate, standing beside him, pitched forward, struck between the shoulder blades by a well aimed .30 cal. round from Professor Edgars' M1, shooting from the flight tower's roof.
Several pirates fell before they realized their peril. The flight deck quickly became a dangerous criss-cross of fire and return fire as the pirates scrambled to recover from the surprise attack. Quickly realizing they could not advance through the maze of crates and containers, the pirates were forced to take defensive positions, using the docking equipment and the landing gear of their cruiser for protection.
Jack's com-link filled his ear with shouts and cries. He could no longer communicate with his people and it quickly began to show. Most of the ground crews and security people had never seen any kind of combat or conflict and the superior weapons and skill of the pirates would soon panic them into retreat or surrender.
■ ■ ■
Myomerr lead her security people onto the bridge of the Princess Hedonist like seasoned storm troopers. The seven pirate guards watching the bridge crew were dead before they hit the floor. Myomerr killed two herself. The first as she entered the door, grabbing his ample hair from behind and pulling so violently, she snapped his neck. The second, with a shot from the hip, with the old Colt .45 she got from Brian. The .45 slug traveled across the bridge and struck the pirate sergeant square between the eyes, splashing his brains across the giant vidscreen in a smeary mess.
Myomerr looked at the pirate corpses scattered about the bridge, "Send out a distress call," she instructed the Princess' helmsman. "And get us back on course. When we leave, seal the doors. Admit no one until you have proper clearance." She admired the .45 in her hand, "I like this WEAPON!" she snarled. "Let us find MORE vermin to kill!"
■ ■ ■
Jack thought he could make out something about the bridge being secured, but he could not be sure. He flinched when the flash of an energy beam destroyed part of a nearby crate. Fritz wanted some action but Jack grabbed him by the collar, "No way buddy-boy..." Peering between the crates, Jack found the source of the assault. Shouldering the storage containers to widen the gap, he took aim and waited... The pirate was good but he exposed himself to get another shot. The two heavy .45 slugs passed through the breastplate of his armor like butter, sending the soldier crashing to the deck. Their armor, designed to shield against energy weapons, offered little protection against the assault of a projectile weapon. The pirates were learning that the hard way.
The deck around the cruiser became a no-mans-land with little hope for survival, should one attempt to cross it. Several soldiers, well armed and heavily armored, raced onto the deck in an attempt to reach and take the tower hoping to gain the high ground. Firing as they ran, their weapons blazed furious flashes of pure, concentrated energy.
Defending fire thickened and cover fire intensified to protect the runners. Two never made it a quarter of the way. The others pushed on, weaving through the fire like they were dodging raindrops. Brian could
not believe they were still going... they were almost to the tower...
■ ■ ■
"Are you ready, Uncle?"
Professor Edgars loaded a full magazine into the carbine, realizing it would be a terrible waste of precious ammunition. He nodded. "Together now... ready, set, GO!" Derrik and the professor popped up from the protecting rim of the tower's roof, firing at the runners. Empty shell casings showered the roof with hollow pings as the M1s fired .30 cal. rain upon the runners and the deck below. They fell, one by one, their armor perforated like paper.
The air erupted in retaliatory fire, the tower taking the brunt of the assault. Shards of scrap metal and pieces of cast-crete hailed the landing deck like shrapnel.
Through the haze of cordite and seared composites, Brian saw one of the two figures on top of the tower pitch backward by a well placed shot from the pirates. Exposing himself to get a clear view, Brian skillfully manipulated the trigger to nearly replicate full-auto fire, almost literally cutting the culprit in two.
■ ■ ■
"Uncle?!" Derrik knelt down.
"Oh, Bloody Christ, that hurts..." The shot had taken his left arm off just below the shoulder, mid-bicep.
Derrik looked at the charred stump and the blackened carbine still clutched in the professor's right hand. "Oh Lord, Uncle..."
"Guess I've been hit eh?" His breathing was in short gasps. "Ten months in Viet-Nam and not a scratch... Blast the luck."
"Don't leave me, Uncle!" Derrik cradled the professor's head, "Don't you dare!"
Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) Page 23