Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (21 page)

Buck positioned his rebels strategically throughout the
Saigus asteroids. In times past, his people had set a trap here or there to
capture a Confederate ship or two, but never for an entire fleet, and never so
close to home.

If Ericca’s reconnaissance intel was correct the number of
ships coming for them far outnumbered his own. To some this seemed a fool’s
errand, but Jordon and Buck’s plan was simplicity in the extreme. They would
lure as many of the big ships into the asteroid field as were willing to enter.
The unwieldy Confederate cruisers would find it nearly impossible to maneuver
within the rocks, giving Buck’s group the advantage.

While Buck waited, Jordon and Josh headed out to join him.
Contrary to Joshua’s self-assessment, his ability to pilot through the
asteroids was quite good, actually, very easy and smooth.

As Jordon studied his crewman he realized that Josh was
doing exactly as Jordon had guessed he would. The boy seemed to sense
everything around him all at once and move accordingly. That was impossible of
course, but in scanning the field Joshua seemed to take in everything,
calculate the movements of every asteroid, and avoid each and every one. As he
grew accustomed to the rock field, to his ship, and to the wingman beside him,
Josh began to accelerate. Jordon had never seen anyone grasp the concepts of
Astro-navigation as swiftly as Josh was doing then and there.

“Let’s head back,” Jordon radioed. “No reason to burn up all
our fuel.”

“Yes sir. Heading in.” Josh turned back toward Rhone.

After dodging countless asteroids his scanners pinged. “What
the . . . ? We’ve got incoming,” Joshua announced. “And
from every side.”

He accelerated around and between the asteroids and headed
for the trap. If the other Talon pilots happened to spot his and Jordon Kori’s
ships, they’d see them as others of their own kind, hopefully. Beating the
Talons to the trap, Josh and Jordon ducked into the shadows. Josh checked his
scanner. The enemy Talons, still well behind him, started to form up in a
straight line as they neared the bait.

Aboard the flagship
HMS Homanju
, Admiral Fulvus,
peered over JD’s shoulder. He leaned close to deliberately breathe down the
com-officer’s neck.

JD, aware of Fulvus’s presence, was ill at ease and moved
stiffly. When he glanced up at Fulvus he jumped with a start, unnerved by just
how close the admiral stood.

That’s the response I want
, Fulvus thought, taking a
certain satisfaction in the radioman’s misery. Fulvus’s ability to make those
around him nervous thrilled him. In his mind it spoke of his clout. The
officer’s guilt or innocence on any matter wasn’t in question. Fulvus held
every man’s life in his hands and wanted those around him to see it as such.
With impunity, at his word a guiltless man could be put to death. His people
knew it, and
that
, he believed, was power.

The radio came to life with the voice of the Talon leader,
“Come in, Capital. This is Vanguard. We have a strong signal, Ghost seems
adrift dead ahead. I request clearance to approach. Over.”

JD swallowed hard and tabbed the com. His voice quivered;
his hand shook. “Vanguard, approach with caution. Over.”

Fulvus straightened then turned to the screen. The ship’s
floodlights pushed back the darkness, but only to a point. The nearer asteroids
slowly tumbled and rolled. At the light’s distant edge shadows crossed only
briefly like specters in the dark. Goosebumps ran up Fulvus’s spine.
Just
asteroids
, he told himself—not really believing his own counsel.

“Capital, Vanguard requests clearance to make first contact.
Over.”

“Roger, Vanguard. Wait for orders.” The officer turned to
the admiral. “Sir?”

Fulvus glanced at the man and gave a halfhearted nod with a
slight dip of his head.

“Vanguard, you are cleared for first contact. Proceed with
care. Over.” With that order the first few Talons to arrive were to fly by the aging
spaceship close enough to provoke a response from it. Long moments passed.

Fulvus sat down in the command chair and thrummed the
armrest with a repeating roll of his fingertips. He studied his bridge crew.
They were as nervous as he, but for reasons of their own. Moments ago when he
and Thuggins first stepped onto the bridge, the crew, in fear of his wrath,
scrambled to organize their stations; they hurried to stow reading materials,
drinks, and food—all,
that is
, except Johnston. Fulvus found Johnston’s
cool attitude provocative. Even in Fulvus’s presence the commander was
comfortable with himself. Fulvus wanted to change that. His crew’s nervousness
was evidence of his dominance, his power. Even if Johnston wasn’t afraid he
should at least have the good sense to play along and set the example. Gods
forbid his self-assured attitude spread to the crew.

Sergeant Thuggins waited indiscreetly at the lift’s door
with his Mouzer cradled at the ready. The boss wanted the bridge crew nervous—
for
whatever reason
—so here he stood to do his part.

Impatient, Admiral Fulvus slapped the armrest.

THWACK!

The crewmen jumped, then froze in their seats.

Abruptly Fulvus stood and paced a step or two. At the
light’s edge shadows ducked in and out, niggling his imagination, and stabbing
at his apprehension.

“Capital, come in. Over.” Vanguard’s voice, no doubt
hindered by the many asteroids, was scratchy.

Fulvus stiffened and scowled at the com-officer.

“Go ahead, Vanguard. Report, please.”

“Capital. We have—” The com went dead.

Fulvus glared. “Well! What are they waiting for! Get it out
here!”

The com-officer flinched, touched the com, but hesitated.

Johnston stepped forward and patted the com’s shoulder to
calm the man. “Tell them Delta formation, JD. All due haste, please.”

“But their signal went dead, sir.”

“Assume they can still hear us, soldier. Tell them.”

JD nodded and, with shaky hands, tabbed his console.
“Vanguard. Delta formation. Bring her in with all due haste, please.”

To create a
box trap
inside the asteroid field, Buck
cleared asteroids from a spherical area large enough to hold a good number of
Talons. Some of the asteroids were huge and required the combined efforts of
several ships expending great energy to pull them aside. He then attached the
tracker found on
Freefall
to a decoy buoy and placed it at the vacant
space’s center.

Jordon then encapsulated the buoy in a holograph image of
Freefall
and went further by making it project false but believable censor readings. The
buoy
slash
faux spaceship was enticing bait for the Talons.

On most of the larger rocks men attached Zero-point energy
emitters. Once activated the rocks would connect one to another with bands of
energy that looked like writhing blue snakes. Together they’d form a spherical
energized web—
an inescapable trap
—to imprison the Talons for as long as
needed.

Waiting in the shadows off to one side Josh, in his modified
pseudo-Talon, sat near Jordon Kori’s ship. He looked on as the enemy’s lead
ships entered the void and approached the faux
Freefall
centered there.

The first Talon cautiously approached the fake
Freefall
ship. Leary, he circled the spacecraft, which didn’t move.

“I don’t get this,” he said over his short-range ship to
ship to the other pilots.

Tuned to the same frequency, Josh and Jordon heard every
word. But at seeing
Freefall
most of the Talons followed the first into
the open area like moths to a flame. They encircled the bait.

Sensing trouble, a few of the last-in-line Talons veered
away from entering.

Remotely Josh triggered the snare. The web came to life.
Like a thousand snakes pouring from a thousand nests, bands of blue energy
stretched from one asteroid to the next to encompass the Confed fighters. The
ghost vanished to reveal the buoy, which, after its rockets fired, jetted out
of the field. Josh recovered it to place in the next trap.

The few that escaped now circled the sphere’s outer
perimeter looking for a way to breach the net to rescue those now trapped
within. Those inside looked for a way out as well. But webbed tightly, there
was no breach, brake, or passage for them to find.

One nervous pilot fired a rocket at an emitter. The asteroid
it was attached to exploded into gravel and dust. But the remaining emitters, programmed
to compensate and close the holes, instantly reattached to the functioning
energy projectors nearest them. Doing so pulled the asteroids closer together
and the sphere shrank a little.

“No! Wait!” their leader shouted. “We’ll need to think this
through.”

Panic was no friend to a Talon pilot. If, in their efforts
to free themselves they fired on several more energy-web emitters, the field
would shrink further. As soon as one emitter failed those nearest it would
reattach to others and draw the noose tighter. Any more of this, and they’d
hang themselves.

“Stay calm, men,” the leader said. “No prison is impossible
to escape from. We just need to keep cool heads and think this through.”

“Blast!” Josh cursed. At seeing what had happened his
brilliant mind instantly ran the numbers. If just a few more emitters were
destroyed the rest would pull the remaining asteroids into a tightening,
shrinking ball. Once the massive rocks were close enough to each other, gravity
would take over and there would be no stopping the collapse. The Talons inside
would be crushed.

The three remaining Talons who had earlier escaped, circled
the trap once then turned away to leave the area for help. But before they got
far a hidden Corsair’s rockets found them.

In the dead silence of space Josh watched the explosions in
astonishment, and a sick feeling twisted his stomach into a knot.

“What in freaking flames did we just do?” he whispered into
his mic.

“Take it easy, son,” Jordon said. “No one could have
predicted this.”

“But sir?”

“This is war, Josh. It’s never clean and bloodless. Death
will always be a part of it.”

The com-officer tabbed his console. “Come in, Vanguard. Come
in. Vanguard, repeat message.
Over
.”

Nothing.

Fulvus stepped closer and peered at the com’s console. He
didn’t understand the muddled mess of instruments, but his crew didn’t know
that, or so he thought.

“Vanguard, repeat. Over.” Again – nothing. JD looked up at
the admiral. “We’ve lost contact, sir. There’s no signal from any of them.”

Fulvus glanced toward the view screen. The shadows tumbled
disinterested in his affairs. He took a labored breath as a shiver crawled up
his spine to bristle the hair on the back of his neck.

The stresses of command were best left to soldiers, and he
was no military man. Like most of his contemporaries, he took this job just to
advance his political ambitions. It was said that the moniker of ‘Admiral’
pinned to his name would lend him stature among the politicos, or so the
argument went. Why did he let himself get talked into this? He could see now
that not one of those smiling faces had his best interests in heart. And it was
funny that even his predecessor, old Adm. Harrow Carringer, had pressed him
hard to take this gods-awful job. “Don’t worry,” the newly appointed senator
had said. “The people under your command will do the military stuff. All you
have to do is stroll the decks and look commanding.”

Liar!

No one said his men would actually look to him for
leadership. Seven hells, how did he fall into this trap? Fail to lead and be
thought the fool. Lead and be exposed as incompetent. There was a trick to
this, to leading military men, but blast if he could find it.

Then it occurred to him. This is where promising young men
were sent to prove themselves. Without instruction, swim or sink, one had to
work his way through the quagmire of leading. How did the others like himself find
their way through? Perhaps they had something innately inside them, an instinct
for survival that only blossomed in a harsh environment. Who knew?

This certainly was a devious way to get rid of up and coming
political opponents. Maybe that was Carringer’s actual intention? Did he see Fulvus
as a threat? If Fulvus actually did well and got through this unscathed, would
Carringer be the first to pat his back?

Well, boohooing in his soup wasn’t going to get him
anywhere. It was time to get a grip, get serious, and get mean. Mean was easy.
Mean he could do. Mean was what he lived for.

Surrounded by guards and with her hands cuffed behind her, Ericca
marched down the corridor toward
Viper
. Stopping some distance away, one
guard put his pistol to Ericca’s head.

With her life fully in her brother’s hands Ericca grinned
slightly and dipped her head to the determined teen intent on rescuing her.

Riley nodded in response, and then dropped his eyes to the
man pinned under
Viper’s
nose. “They’ve put a gun to my sister’s head.
Imagine that.” He let
Viper’s
bow press down a little harder.

Torrington grunted. “Stop!” he gasped.

“Listen up, chooch. I’m simply not going to fool around. Get
that through your head. Either I get what I’ve asked for or I give what I’ve
promised. Do we have an understanding between us?”

Torrington nodded.

Riley relaxed the pressure somewhat.

“They will kill her, Riley. Is that what you want?”

Riley looked up at the soldiers. “Do it! Put a bullet in her
head and see what happens!”

“Don’t say that! They will, you fool. Stand down or she’ll
die.”

Riley increased the pressure on Torrington’s chest once
again.

The man screamed in pain.

“Put a bullet in her head,” Riley said coldly. “Do it. And
then suffer the consequences of one angry teenager in a hardcore fighting
ship.”

“Release her!” Torrington yelled.

The guard hesitated. “Sorry, sir. I have my orders. Hammond
will not succumb to a terrorist’s demands.”

Riley sighed deeply. “Oh well,” he said under his breath, and
tabbed his controls. There was a sudden, bright flash and everyone outside
Viper
dropped where he stood, including Ericca.

Now lying on her back Ericca opened her eyes to Archer’s
serious face.

Her skin tingled, her muscles wouldn’t obey.

He knelt and, as carefully as he could, lifted her from the
floor. “It’s okay, sis. I have you.” He turned and carried her back to
Viper
.

Torrington, still pinned under the ship’s bow, with his eyes
closed, lay motionless.

Archer paused only to spit in the man’s face. “How you like
them apples, jerk?”

“Wha . . . what happened? Did I get shot?” Ericca
said groggily.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Archer eased Ericca into
Viper’s
front seat.

“Thass nice,” she said as her eyes closed.

Riley climbed into the back seat, lifted the ship off
Torrington, then turned
Viper
and headed back the way he’d come. As he
rounded a corner he found his way blocked. Guards had set up a light cannon in
the hallway.

“Stand down, Archer,” one man shouted through a megaphone.

“I’m not going to play,” Riley replied. “Not anymore. Things
will go a lot easier for you if you’ll just step out of my way.”

The cannon fired.
Viper’s
shields flared with each
shot but held solid.

“If she can handle a big ship’s guns,” Riley shouted, “what
is you little land cannon going to do? Nothing! Now stand down!”

They fired again.

“Fine!” Riley spat. In the next moment, under
Viper’s
guns the opposing cannon exploded. The men standing beside it vaporized.
Through the smoke and flames Riley pressed
Viper
forward, entered the
control room, and moved into the landing bay. Using his guns he tore a hole
through the bay doors and sped out into space. Turning, he lined up on
Noble
Sun
.