"It wasn't his fault..." started Alité.
"Shut up, you slut!" spat Maria.
"Time out!" yelled Jack, stepping forward. "That's enough! I think it's your turn to be quiet and listen. You've said enough."
"But...!"
"I said quiet!" He set his glass on the bar and straightened his tunic, adopting a more professional posture. "Now, sit down!" Maria plopped herself onto the couch like an angry child, Alité remained standing, looking very elegant, very proper.
"As I was about to say..." began Alité.
"I think you've said enough too," said Steele, sternly. "Sit down." She sat seductively on the other end of the settee and did not bother to close the thigh high slit of her dress as it fell open. It caught his eye and the pilot momentarily lost his train of thought. "I... ahem, it... um, look," he said to Maria, pulling his thoughts together, "it's been almost four weeks since we've slept together. We haven't talked much, hell, we haven't even seen each other much. We've drifted apart." Maria sat and stared at him with angry child eyes. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, hoping to prevent the headache he knew would come. "I don't know whose fault it is. Yours, mine... it's really not important. The point is, the first night we have to spend together, with any hopes of regaining some of our intimacy, you get so ploughed, you disappear. I found you sleeping face down in the corridor absolutely comatose!"
"So you're saying this is all my fault, right?"
Jack was about to object when Alité took over. "No he's not,” she said gently. “But Lord only knows why..." Jack tried to interrupt and she shushed him. "He moved onto the Freedom almost immediately. You waited three weeks. Not only that, you didn't even come to see him in the evenings. He sat here alone most nights studying the ships systems... or with the engineers reviewing the repairs.” She waved her hand toward Fritz. “He had no idea if his wonderful companion would live or die... and through all that, not once did he have any female company... but I could tell he needed it. And believe me, there are plenty of women on this ship that would have been more than happy to oblige him."
“Huh?” Jack’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
Maria's expression had changed. She listened to Alité but she watched Jack with puppy dog eyes. "How could you tell?" she asked quietly.
"It was obvious," said the porter, standing up. "He was lonely. He had all these responsibilities..." she strolled to the bar and poured herself a drink. "He had all these people to direct, all the things that had to be done to this ship..." She moved next to Jack and slipped her arm around his waist. "And all without showing the terrible pain he was in, losing Fritz and all."
"But he didn't die..." objected Maria, indicating the dog who was sitting quietly, watching the conversation.
"Jack didn't know that," interrupted Alité "I watched it all. And since you didn't, I decided I would do something about it... I simply gave him what he so terribly needed. It seemed obvious he wasn't a priority for you..."
Maria looked through watery eyes. "Why didn't you say something, Jack?"
Alité answered for him, "Because he'll put personal feelings aside to accomplish something. He's dedicated. He doesn't complain. But just because he doesn't say anything, doesn't mean he doesn't need anything."
Maria rose from the couch and smoothed her uniform. "So I suppose this means it's over then, right?" She wiped the tears from her face.
Jack pulled away from Alité's grasp and moved over to Maria. He took her face in his hands. "Look, I think we drifted apart long ago, we just couldn't admit it. You are very dear to me and that won't ever change, but let's face it, we're both takers." He moved his hands to her shoulders. "We both need people who have more time to give to us, than we do to them. If for no other reason, than the duties and responsibilities we carry consume so much of our time." It was like walking a thin line through a minefield, one wrong word, and boom! He wanted to carefully traverse the danger without laying blame.
Maria turned away and slipped from his hands. "Ok Jack," she sighed, waving her hand casually, "whatever." She moved to the door, not positive if she was more hurt or angry and if it was directed more at him, Alité, or herself.
"Hey," called Jack. Maria turned and paused at the open door. "No more booze for awhile, ok?"
"Sure," she said, in an emotionless, monotone voice. "See ya round the ship, Captain..." She threw him a haphazard salute and stepped through the doorway. The door shushed quietly closed behind her, leaving the room silent.
Jack swallowed dryly. "I need a drink," he croaked. Alité handed him a glass of sparkling juice almost before he finished his thought.
"She'll be alright," soothed Alité, "you'll see..." she ran her fingers through his hair and massaged his aching temples.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FREEDOM: HISTORIC LAUNCH, DEGOBAH SYSTEM
By mid-morning, all that had to be done – all that could be done, had been finished, checked and rechecked. History could not be put off any longer. The very first ship ever to be captured intact more or less, from the pirates, was ready to be relaunched under a flag allied to the UFW. Four more people had joined the Freedom's crew that morning. Two were former passengers, two were former crew of the Princess Hedonist. This bought the Freedom's total crew complement to seventy-one. Still well below the standard crew of one-fifty to two hundred, as Jack Steele would say, "Every little bit helps."
The entire crew of the raider-class cruiser, Freedom, stood in single file review outside the port loading ramp. The officers wore the royal blue, double breasted, cavalry style shirts, formfitting, charcoal gray pants, and the polished black, knee high boots. Non officers, wore light gray, double breasted cavalry shirts, and the same charcoal pants and black boots. Rank was noted on the collar for officers and on the shirt cuff for non-coms, but only six people wore the coveted pilots wings on their left breast.
Their brass buttons glittering in the lights of the Princess's landing bay, the small crew was still an impressive sight. Gantarro, accompanied by Jack, strolled down the line and said goodbye to the former members of his crew he knew as friends and bid the entire group God's speed and protection. As they returned to the beginning of the line, the Captain of the Princess grew more solemn, paused in front of the pilots and faced Jack. His full, trimmed, white beard and sapphire blue eyes made him look a little like Father Christmas. "Captain Steele," he began, "it has come to my attention, that you have no medical staff on your crew. If something happens out there, you'd be in big trouble... any medical assistance, could be days too late. Can't have that. It's not at all acceptable. So..." he continued, grinning, "I'm providing you with both, a medi-bot and a surgically trained CABL."
"Can you do that?"
"I just have, Mr. Steele. And may you never need them." Gant extended his hand.
"Thank you," said Jack, shaking his hand, "you've been a good friend. I hope we'll see you again."
Gantarro smiled politely, "I'm sure we will. Take care, my boy."
Jack stepped aside and his new first officer Professor Edgars, stepped forward, followed by Fritz and the five pilots. They exchanged smiles, handshakes and goodbyes. Jack turned to Ragnarr, "Lieutenant..."
“Yes, sir?"
"Let's round em up and head em out!"
The burly Lieutenant cocked his head. "Sir?"
Jack smirked. "Get the crew aboard and prepare to depart..?"
"Oh! Yes, right!" He nodded his understanding, "Yes, sir!" He turned to the crew and waved them up the ramp. The assigned medi-bot and the specially trained, CABL M7, followed the crew up into the cruiser.
The Professor and pilots, having exhausted their goodbyes, turned and started up the ramp, leaving Jack and Fritz at the foot of the ramp facing Gantarro, who st
ood on the pad. The old man smiled, then snapped a sharp salute. Jack stiffened and returned it crisply. When he turned on his heel, he proceeded up the ramp without looking back. Things seemed to have come full circle, and Jack pondered how odd, that every time he departed, someone was saluting him. He hoped this maiden flight would be more successful than the last.
The Shepherd ran ahead and was at the elevator before Jack reached the entrance to the cargo hold. A technician, who doubled as a Gunnery Officer, stood in the hold at the top of the ramp, waiting for his Captain to board. "Thanks, Mister," said Jack, as he passed. "Close her up." The Warrant Officer nodded as he worked the controls to retract the heavy ramp back into the hull. Hydraulic pumps thrummed as the ramp hinged upward to fold itself flush with the hull and seal the cargo opening. Jack glanced back when he heard the hiss of the hydraulics and the squeal of metal on metal, which were the locking rams securing the door. The crewman gave him a thumbs up signal to show the door and hull were sealed tight. Satisfied, Jack gave a wave and stepped into the waiting elevator.
■ ■ ■
It was good to see crew members in the corridors, it made the ship feel alive and vital. Fritz was having to trot to keep up with Jack's long strides, but once he discovered their destiny was the bridge, he galloped off down the hall, happily weaving his way past corridor traffic. It was becoming obvious, the Shepherd was almost back to his full physical abilities already, though some of his personality traits were still absent. All in good time, thought Jack.
All the work stations manned, the bridge appeared to have undergone a tremendous metamorphosis. Used to the quiet, it was almost startling when Jack stepped onto the bridge, but it felt like home just the same. As he walked across the upper level, past the science, communication and sensor stations, Raulya handed him a comm unit. Slightly different than the comms on the Princess, he paused and slid the miniature unit over his left ear and adjusted the wire-boom mic, over his mouth. Moving down the steps to the command chair, he shooed Fritz from the seat. "Ok, boys and girls, here we go!" He sat in the command chair and scanned the readouts on his monitors. "Communications, give me an open channel..."
"You have it, sir."
"Thank you." He looked up to the main view screen which showed the flight bay around them, "Hello tower, this is the Freedom, we're ready to shove off."
“Ok, Freedom, bay doors are open, personnel are clear, flight path is clear... you are free to execute."
"Thank you, tower." Jack sat back in his chair and crossed his legs to feel more comfortable and conceal his anxiousness. He punched a button on his console which would route his communications to engineering. "Are you ready Trigoss?"
"Ready."
"Ok, Chief," continued Jack, "we need power for the anti-grav system."
"Gotcha. Rerouting power from the main engine cores, to anti-grav... now." The lights on the bridge dimmed momentarily.
"Helmsman," ordered Jack, "take us off the deck."
"Yes, sir." The ship began to vibrate as the Ensign applied power and the ship became weightless. "Up and holding, sir." The vibration lessened.
"Good. Lieutenant, retract the landing legs."
Ragnaar nodded. "Yes sir." The heavy thrum of massive hydraulic pumps drummed from the belly of the ship as they worked to retract the legs designed to support the Freedom's extensive weight. One by one the legs thumped home and locked into place. "Gear secure, sir."
"Ok," Jack rubbed his hands together, "now we're cooking. Lieutenant, Ensign, it's up to you. Take us out of here."
"Yes, sir!" They answered in unison.
"Try not to scratch the paint job," added Jack.
Ragnaar turned from his console, forward of the command chair and looked at Jack over his shoulder. "Not a chance, Captain," he said, with a smile. Steele returned the smile with a knowing nod.
Sitting in his own chair, to the left of Jack's, the Professor eyed his own monitors for trouble. Jack slid out of his position and stood up. Fritz, who had been laying peacefully between them, stood up too. "Listen, Walt..." It felt strange calling him by his first name, but the Professor didn't seem to mind, "I'll be right back, keep an eye on things. Ok?"
"Right-o." He didn't look up from his monitors.
Followed by Fritz, Jack moved up the short stairs that ringed the control pit and over to where the pilots stood with Raulya and Myomerr, at the weapons console, behind the command chairs. They stood, momentarily silent and watched the landing bay slide slowly backwards on the main screen.
"Pretty awesome," said Mike quietly. Everyone nodded in agreement.
Jack broke his attention away from the view screen. "Where's Maria?"
"In her quarters," answered Derrik.
Steele nodded. "Maybe that's for the best right now." The others agreed, knowing what had transpired and her present attitude. "I'm going to call downstairs and have them ready the fighters," continued Jack, "I need you guys to launch as soon as we're clear of the Princess."
"What's up?" queried Brian.
"Nothing yet," said Jack peering at the weapons console, "it's just that we're kinda' vulnerable and I think fighter recons are a good idea. I don't want to get caught with our pants down."
"It really is prudent," confirmed Paul.
"Thanks, Pappy." Jack checked the big screen then turned back, "Mike, you fly with Pappy. Bri, you fly Derrik's wing. Pappy, you're flight leader, so pick whatever sweep pattern you think is best."
"No problem, Jack." Paul motioned to the others. "Let's go get suited and prepped." The pilots filed out of the bridge. Jack wanted to be going with them, he had a severe itch to fly.
But Jack returned to the command chair where he knew he needed to be until the Professor was more familiar with operations. He plopped himself into the contoured, well padded chair and after a quick glance at the big screen to check their progress, he punched a button on his console, connecting him with the flight bay. "Flight bay..."
"Flight bay, go ahead," came the answer over his comm.
"This is the bridge," began Jack. "Arm and prep all fighters for launch." The flight crew acknowledged his order and the computer beeped as the commlink ended. Jack rotated his chair around, its console and monitors turning with it, and looked at Raulya at the weapons console behind him. "How long will the ship's weapons hold a power charge if they don't fire?"
She glanced down at the console, then back up. "Most will hold a charge in their storage cells for about twenty four hours."
Jack nodded and pulled on his lower lip, deep in thought. Without turning or looking, he addressed his first officer, "Walt, do we have any extra power at all to divert to something else?"
"A little," he answered, checking the status of the generators on his monitor.
"Good!" Jack turned back towards his weapons officer, "Raulya, can you route power to a couple turrets at a time? Charge them up and move on to the next one?"
She was staring down at her console and calling up the arming and powering information. Whole columns of directions outlined the specific sequences. "I'd have to change the prescribed format a bit, but I think I can."
Steele rubbed his hands together. "Good. Do it."
Raulya nodded and began working on the program's format, rearranging it to make it more flexible and allow her the freedom to manipulate the power to individual gun turrets. She paused, "The guns need to be manned..."
"No problem." Jack punched the general-comm button on his chair's console. "All gunnery personnel to your stations. This is just a drill, repeat, this is just a drill. Report when at station." His keypad chirped as he ended the broadcast. When he spun his chair back forward, the view screen showed the Freedom was almost halfway clear of the Princess's bay.
One by one, gunnery teams began reporting in to Raulya, that their turrets were manned and ready. As each reported in, she instructed them to stand by and do nothing. Once all the turrets had reported in and she had successfully changed the arming and powering up program, she addressed all the gunnery personnel at one time. She instructed them that they would just be charging the power cells and that at no time should they actually arm the weapons in their turrets. Although probably disappointed, all personnel complied and the process proceeded smoothly, though a bit slow.
Unable to start the main engines in the confines of the landing bay, Jack grew concerned about the engine cores cooling before the withdrawal of the Freedom was complete, necessitating more warm up time. He keyed the proper comm button. "Engineering, this is the bridge, how are our core temps holding out?"
"Stand by..." Jack recognized the Chief Engineer's voice. There was a long pause. "Sorry sir, I was a bit busy."
"Do we have a problem, Chief?"
"No sir, just some adjustments. Our core temperatures are fine, they'll hold for a couple of hours before requiring any additional heat."
"Ok, just checking." Jack sat back in his chair, crossed his legs and relaxed. Satisfied that there wasn't much else to do but watch and wait.
■ ■ ■
Paul, Mike, Brian and Derrik, stood in the locker room and donned the flight suits which would protect them in case ejection from the cockpit was necessary. In appearance, the suit resembled a standard G suit, but that's where the similarity ended. These special survival suits would provide a complete, sealed environment with heat and oxygen when the helmet was attached. Each suit was equipped for two full hours of life support in deep space, without any outside aid. After sealing the helmet to the suit and connecting the power leads, the visor would close and seal automatically upon loss of air pressure in the cockpit.
The pilots finished putting on their suits and moved through the double doors into the briefing room, carrying their helmets and flight gloves. They sat in the front four seats, glancing around at the twenty empty seats around them. "I say," said Derrik, "it's a mite lonely in here."
Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) Page 30