Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (20 page)

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.

Two hours after he had gone to bed Riley got up to remove an
air duct cover, and peeked inside. “Okay, that looks 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.

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 for 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.”

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.

The little ship that had so wounded this fleet, found refuge
on one of the ships, and then made off so speedily—
as far as Fulvus could
tell
—was neither
Freefall
nor a party to its whereabouts. He vowed
that finding it would be his next quest, after, of course, he captured the
Ghost Ship, slept in its beds, and returned to Confederate H.Q. victorious.

The many ships under Fulvus’s command approached the Saigus
asteroid field cautiously. The sheer size of the rings that encircled the
Saigus sun took his breath away. The signal came from a known point, but that
was well within it, and out of his reach.
Freefall’s
captain couldn’t
have chosen a better place to hide. To lure the ghost out of the asteroids
would be difficult if not impossible. As always Fulvus balanced his desires
with his guarded approach to everything. It was clear he had to go in to get
the ghost, but exactly how and with what, was the question. Skirting the upper
flat of the ring, Fulvus ordered his ships to hold position as near the signal
as was possible, which was still deep within the field, a mere fifteen-hundred
miles inside.

Senator Carringer had recommended Fulvus to this post, and
had suggested he take Commander Johnston as his First Officer, telling him to
seek Johnston’s advice for military matters. Despite the senator’s suggestion, Fulvus
didn’t know Johnston well, if at all. To date, Fulvus had trusted no one’s
council but his own and that of the senator. Still, Fulvus looked upon what the
senator advised, and what advice Johnston could give, with suspicion. Men, all
men, were devious. Finding the truth through all the lies was tough, but not
impossible to do. Fulvus believed he had the knack.

Johnston seemed an able officer who could probably lend
proper and secure advice, but Fulvus would have to stoop to openly ask for his
opinion. He didn’t like to stoop, so for the time being he’d just ponder the
situation alone.

He called for tea in his quarters as if it were now time to
indulge this noble banality, and called for Johnston to join him. With a coffee
table between them, Fulvus and Johnston took to cushioned chairs Fulvus thought
he’d never use.

Fulvus assumed that the other ship captains would curse and
spit at his plan. Given the chance any one of them would turn on him just to
see his face when he fell. Therefore he would watch his back, he, and his man
Sgt. Thuggins. Treachery was commonplace and nobility was more a title than a
state of the heart. He learned early on how to rise to power, but did they,
those who’d just as soon see him dead?

He set his tea down. “Cdr. Johnston, send half the fighters
around to the bottom of the ring. Once they’ve positioned themselves under the
tracker’s signal have them move up through the asteroids to converge on the
signal. Their job is to cut the Ghost ship off from any possible retreat and
chase it up to us. Tell the pilots their very lives dangle on their success. We
will blockade the field at this end and capture our prize as it comes out.”

“That should work, sir. I’ll get the fleet right on it. By
your leave, sir.”

The admiral turned to the large flexi-clear window and, in
it, saw his own reflection.
A fine cut of a man
, he thought.

“Commander, you may go.”

Johnston turned to leave but Fulvus’s hulking guard blocked
half the doorway. The commander nodded, “Sergeant.”

Thuggins smirked, “Commander,” he answered, but he didn’t
move.

Johnston leveled his brows. “Stand aside, Sergeant.”

Thuggins didn’t move.

Had Johnston been a lesser man he might have timidly
squeezed by. But Johnston would have none of Thuggins’ nonsense. “Don’t test
me, soldier. You won’t appreciate—”

“Sergeant!” Fulvus snapped without turning. “Step out of his
way.”

Thuggins dithered, then moved to one side.

Johnston glanced back at his commanding officer. He was
certain Fulvus would want a ‘thank you.’ Maybe one day Johnston would give it,
but it wasn’t likely. In order to properly straighten Thuggins out, Johnston
knew he’d have to catch the man alone. Only after would the sergeant’s smug
attitude change to something more agreeable.