Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (48 page)

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."

Paul
shrugged, "Maybe some day it won't be so deserted." He sat
in
the
chair the briefing officer would use, which had a small console and
keypad that controlled the flight planning wall chart. Using the
keypad, he lowered the lights and called up the chart of the present
sector. "We are here." Two ship icons representing the
Princess and the Freedom appeared in the center of the chart,
prompted by Paul and placed by the computer. "We'll fly in a
standard finger four, Derrik and I in front, Brian and Mike as
respective wing men." A four craft flight formed ahead of the
icons for the larger ships and a red line raced forward, away from
the ships. At its furthest point, the two flight groups would split,
Paul's winging left, Derrik's winging right. The flight plan formed
a diamond, the points facing outwards at the bow, stern, port and
starboard.

After
momentarily rejoining at the stern point, the groups would
split
again to create another diamond with points facing out, above, below
and again bow and stern, where theoretically if the recons found
nothing, they would rejoin and approach the stern of the Freedom for
recovery. This, Paul aptly named the Double Diamond Sweep and would
become a standard recon used on the Freedom. "Any questions?"
asked Paul. There were none. "Ok, let's head on out and see how
they're coming with those birds." The pilots gathered their
gloves and helmets and walked through the blast doors out into the
flight bay. Two of the Warthog fighters were completely armed and
sitting in the two launch bays with their canopies standing open.
The other two were still being armed, but were almost completed. The
pilots stood and watched the armorers load the last of the missiles.

The
launch assistant, a former pirate, strolled over to greet
the
pilots, "Any of you gents ready to go?"

"Are
we clear yet?" asked Paul.

"Let
me check," said the assistant. He keyed the mic on his headset.
"Do
we have clear launch yet, boss?" He scrunched his face as he
listened to the answer on his comm unit. "Not yet," he
told the pilot, "but soon."

"We'll
wait then," said Paul. The launch assistant nodded and
walked
away.

■ ■ ■

Able
to call up almost any of the ship's systems on his monitors,
Professor
Edgars was getting an indoctrination of trial by fire. Trying to
learn all the different systems while they were
live
and in operation, was stressful and potentially dangerous because
his chair's console allowed him access to any one of those systems.
But the Professor resisted his professional curiosity and dismissed
the urge to experiment. Instead, he concentrated on monitoring the
systems he knew best, with only occasional glances at the rest.

Jack
knew there was probably something constructive he should be
doing,
but he had slipped into a daydream. It was about the warm Florida
sun, fine white sand, and the feel of the salty surf. Images of his
home on the beach, friends, family, a welcome home barbecue... "When
are you going to find a nice girl and settle down?" his mother
would say. "I would like to see some grandchildren..." She
rarely forgot to mention it and sometimes she made it sound like,
all it took, was going to the department store to pick them out.
"Maybe you're being too picky," she would add.
Darn
right
,
thought Jack, don't want to end up with a lemon, he'd done that
once. One divorce was enough... for any man. He decided no man
should be required to give away all his worldly possessions more
than once, in any given lifetime.

"Captain!"
Ragnaar's voice snapped him back. "We are clear of the
Princess,
sir." There was a short round of applause on the bridge.

Steele
looked up to see the stern of the ship ahead, as the Freedom
coasted
slowly backwards. He watched as the bay doors began to close. "Thank
you, Lieutenant. You and the Ensign did a fine job. Maneuver us on
thrust engines, bring us abeam of the Princess."

"Yes,
sir." The nose of the cruiser began to swing as the helmsman
programmed
the controls and the ship vibrated softly as the four thrust engines
ignited.

Jack
swiveled his chair to face Raulya behind him. "I need that
power
back for main engine startup..."

"You
have it, we're finished."

"Thank
you, Lieutenant JG." He nodded at her, "You may stand down
your
crews and dismiss them." As he swiveled back around, the
communications officer announced an incoming message. "Put it
on the screen..."

Gant's
grinning face appeared on the screen. "Without a hitch. Nice
job,
Mr. Steele. Well, you're on your own Freedom. Good luck! We'll send
over our Nav-course for the remainder of this sector, we appreciate
the escort."

"Our
pleasure," confirmed Jack. The men signed off and the screen
winked out
returning
to the external view mode. Momentarily abreast, the Princess began
to pull away as her main engines lit up. Jack punched his comm
button. "Engineering, this is the bridge. We're all set, light
em up Chief!"

"Initiating
main engine startup," came the reply. The lights dimmed
and
the ship rumbled like an approaching freight train as each of the
three engines roared to life, one at a time. This diminished to a
low soft rumble, not unlike distant rolling thunder. "Startup
completed, Captain," called Trigoss. The lights returned to
normal - which for the bridge, was muted, to ease the viewing of
monitors, control and data consoles and the view screen.

“
Good
job, Chief.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. "Ok
helm, let's catch up
to
the Princess. Mr Ragnaar, plot us a course parallel to hers, but at
a distance which will prevent a blind spot in our sensors."
Both crewmen acknowledged and set about their tasks. The Princess
had become a bright halo in the distance, but they would catch her
soon. “Walt, run some of that power to the launch bay, will
ya?”

Walt
nodded, “Of course.”

Jack
punched a comm button to the tower. "Flight control, you're
clear to launch fighters..."

■ ■ ■

The
lights over the prep and launch areas dimmed, then turned red to
prepare
the pilots for night flying, a perpetual state, in deep space.

"Here
comes that launch assistant again," mentioned Brian. The pilots
turned
from their conversation as the gangly young man trotted over from
the flight tower.

"The
Launch Boss says we're just about clear," relayed the puffing
assistant.
"You guys should probably get your bones in those sleds and
buckle in."

Paul
slapped the man on the shoulder, "Thanks, kid." He hefted
his
helmet
under one arm and began sliding on his gloves. Walking backwards, he
thumbed over his shoulder at the launch tubes. "Mike and I'll
take these, you take the other two." The helmet slid out from
under his arm but he caught it with his other hand.

"Nice
catch, Pappy!" yelled Brian, pulling on his own gloves. "We'll
see
you outside!" He picked his helmet up off the wingtip of the
closest fighter where he had set it and walked around to the side of
the cockpit. He handed the helmet to his mechanic before climbing up
the ladder to the open canopy and crawling in.

"Catch,
sir!" The mechanic tossed the helmet up into the cockpit
before
climbing the ladder himself. Brian caught the newly painted globe
and brushed invisible dust off the fresh artwork. Each pilot had his
own artwork expertly rendered on his helmet, courtesy of a talented
mechanic who had practiced and developed his hidden skill. Brian's
had the ship's flying Pegasus logo over red and white stripes on one
side and as the helmet was rotated, it was obvious the stripes were
part of a waving Stars and Stripes banner.

As
the mechanic belted him in and connected his comm link and other
leads,
the pilot donned his helmet and glanced over at Derrik in the next
fighter. He couldn't see Derrik's logo from that angle but he could
remember it clearly, a diving falcon clutching a British Union Jack.
Derrik glanced up and flashed a thumbs up signal which Brian
returned.

The
scream of the catapults flinging the first two fighters into
space
made both men start and look up. After sealing the suits to the
pilots helmets, the equipment crewmen climbed down and removed the
ladders. A ground crewman plugged a headset into the nose of Brian's
fighter and another did the same for Derrik. "Can you hear me,
Lieutenant?" Brian looked down over the side and nodded.
"Good," replied the man, "you can speak, I'll hear
you. Ok, close your canopy and seal it." The pilot slid the
handle back and the hydraulics hissed, easing the canopy down,
latching and sealing it. The air system came on automatically and
Brian could feel the cool air. "Ok now, flip on only your
anti-grav system." He reached forward and flipped the green and
white switch with a click and felt the craft bounce off the deck,
the system producing an audible static hum like high voltage wires
heard at a distance. "Good, now just follow me... hands on the
stick, just point it where you need it to go." The man strolled
off towards the launch tubes, tethered to the fighter by the cord
from his headphones.

Brian's
fighter headed for the left tube and Derrik's around the
flight
tower to the right tube. As Brian neared the catapult, his stomach
flip-flopped with anxious butterflies. The ground crewman turned
around and walked backwards, guiding the pilot with hand signals
onto the recessed catapult. The pilot found he could literally move
in any direction on anti-grav, including backwards. The man guiding
him held up both hands and Brian let go of the stick. "Good,"
he said, "anti-grav off." When he snapped the switch down,
the craft settled to the deck with a gentle bump and the static hum
disappeared. Brian glanced around for a moment, the darkness of
space lay ahead, past a veil of thin blue, which was the stasis
field holding the atmosphere in the flight bay. To his right, a
heavy steel and formcrete wall. Derrik's fighter would be on the
other side of that wall.