Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (26 page)

“Go ahead.”

“
Skipper, can I swap you a loaded Cyclone for your Vulcan? I'd really like to get it out with the other one for long patrols. Y'know, because they're faster...”

Jack looked out of the station's tower window down at his Vulcan sitting on the deck below. “Sure, Pappy, no problem.”

“I'll be sending out two pairs at a time to do patrols.”

“
Sounds good. If we have anyone we can spare who can do a little programming and setup, send them over. Maybe we can get a flight of drones out there too. I'd like to improve their tactics a bit though.”

“
You're not gonna like it...”

“
Like what?” asked Jack.

“
Well, Hecken Noer is swamped. But you already knew that. And most of the engineers are busy...”

“
Yeah, what's your point?”

“
I'm pretty sure Maria can do it.”

Jack palmed his face and groaned before activating his mic. “Uuuhhh...” he pondered, pulling on his lower lip. He really didn't want to have to deal with her. “Oh, man... Is she around? Can she hear me?”

“Nope.”

Jack sighed, “OK. But if she gives me one bit of lip, so help me God...”

He could hear Paul laughing. “No problem. I'll make it understood.”

“
Thanks.” Steele rubbed the bridge of his nose; he was hoping he wasn't going to regret this decision. He yawned,
damn why am I so tired?
He checked his watch,
Ahh, no sleep in twenty hours... that would do it...
“Pappy, you still there..?”

“
Roger,” came the reply.

“
Can you send some food over too? For about twenty-five people. And some fresh clothes for me?”

“
Gotcha covered, big guy, it's already on the shuttle. And it's headed over now.”

“
You da bomb, Pappy.”

Marine Warrant Officer Dayle Alaroot knocked on the doorway of the control tower's open door. “Skipper?”

“Hey Dayle,” Jack waved wearily, “c'mon in, have a seat.”

Dayle dropped into one of the control officers' chairs at a console and swiveled it around. “We got all the survivors off the frigate and tucked them in for the night.” He leaned forward, his carbine lying across his lap.

“How many do we have?”

“
Thirty-seven. The brig they built here will actually hold about a hundred comfortably. Two-hundred if you want to pack 'em in.”

“
Geez, that's huge. Any wounded?”

“
Nah, either dead or alive, no in-betweens.”

Jack frowned, “That's kinda odd...”

“Yeah, I thought so too. But we checked the whole damn boat...”

“
Did you have any problems? Any resistance?”

Dayle shook his head, “None at all. They knew their ship was a goner, Hell, you blew the whole stern off. I think they were glad to get off her. By the way, why are we holding onto her? I saw the Archer out there patrolling around her.”

“Blackmount Station is lending us a tug and crew so we can move the ship here. We're going to salvage her for parts. The Resurrection can use the turrets and extra shield generators, the power systems... And I want to have a look at that GOD drive.”

Lights on the control board blinked. “Freedom Shuttle One, to Resurrection Tower. We're two, on final approach, single file.”

Steele stood up to view the bay below, flipping on the approach and runway lights, dimming the bay's overhead floods. “You're both clear, Shuttle One. Bear right after entrance, the left is full.” He looked at the rows of silver drone fighters clogging the left half of the bay. It was going to be a while before he didn't hate those things.

■ ■ ■

He didn't think it was possible, but after refueling and relaunching a hundred of the silver unmanned fighters, he hated them even more. He lay back on the bed in the quarters of the Air Boss just down the corridor from the control tower and stared at the ceiling with drowsy eyes. He contemplated getting undressed, taking a shower, and... he was asleep before finishing the thought.

Maria and Jack hadn't spoken more than a handful of words and she felt like she was literally walking on eggshells. In bare feet. Of course, she was thankful to have her room confinement lifted and actually be able to contribute something, but it wasn't actually what she had in mind. She learned mechanical coding while attending Harvard in their Biorobotics Lab and she was relatively sure after looking at it she could understand and manipulate the code for the drone fighters, but she'd rather be doing almost anything else. Coding wasn't particularly enjoyable but she knew how important this was to defending the unarmed station. The coding for friend and foe recognition was easy and she made the programming adjustments before they sent the flight of a hundred units out on patrol. They would follow their patrol programming for the next twelve hours before returning to the station to refuel. Having placed a new signal relay beacon in the same debris field where they had found the first gave them range of about seventy percent of the system.

Now came the hard part. Improving their tactics, both offensively and defensively. She was also supposed to attempt to improve their situational awareness and collision avoidance subroutines. A tall order. Tactically, it was a matter of assigning prioritization to different types of targets, types and level of threats, as well as values to their targeting subroutines. She named her test programming,
What to shoot at, when, why and how
. Then another test routine,
How not to crash
. Maria sat at the programming console down on the flight deck near the drone storage racks, two drones hovering in the center of the bay, facing each other.

Followed by four repair Rhinos plodding across the deck, Marine Draza Mac was happy to be sporting his new Sergeant stripes. He walked the four units across the deck and directed them all into a large revetment stall designed for their maintenance. Two more Marines came down to the deck from the control tower to assist the Sergeant in swapping out the Rhinos' spent power cells from the ones sitting in the charging trays. Being their first time at the task, it took almost an hour to make the swap, get the Rhinos back online and headed back off toward the Bowman to resume the repairs. “No sweat, guys,” volunteered Draza Mac, “we'll be faster the next time,” he locked a spent power cell into the charger and plugged it in.

“How long do they run?” asked the Marine Private watching the parade of four Rhinos heading back across the deck towards the gantry walkway.

“
Six to Eight hours,” replied Draza Mac, “depending on how much welding or heavy lifting they're doing.”

“
How are the repairs going?” called Maria from her position at the programming station.

“
The readouts showed that they'd sealed and repaired the hull breach. Now they're going to repair the armor and work on a few other damaged sections on the hull,” called Draza Mac walking towards her. “Looks like they're going to work on the starboard engine housing after that.” He waved to the drones maneuvering around the bay, “Watcha working on?”

“
On the programming for these things, “she replied. “It was pretty basic code and I'm trying to get them a little more responsive and a little smarter...” They watched the unmanned fighters circle each other for a moment. “There seems to be a lot of you Marines over here...”

The Sergeant shrugged, “We're mechanically inclined and they needed manpower to run this place... I guess we fit the bill. I heard we've got some coming from the Archer too when she comes back from patrol. The Bowman needs all her manpower for repairs, so I don't guess we'll be seeing any of their guys.”

“Probably not. But I heard there are several ships coming, so we should have a lot more people here in a few days. What's going to happen with the prisoners?”

Draza Mac leaned on the console. “There's a Marine transport coming, it's bringing a whole company for the station and it'll pick up the prisoners.” He was staring at the drones now. “Y'know, these would make great scouts. You could send out single ones to designated spots and let them just sit there like forward observers...”

“And since they're not actively patrolling,” interjected Maria, “their fuel would probably last a week.” The Sergeant nodded in agreement. “That's a
terrific
idea.”she added. “They're small enough that they might even go unnoticed...”

“
Yeah. And you could have a hundred or two sitting in a central location, waiting to be called by the sentry, or sent manually by the controller. The response time should be much shorter.”

Maria was busy writing notes on her e-Pad. “Thanks, these are some really great ideas.” Suddenly, she had an enthusiasm for the task she previously didn't think was possible. Or exciting. This was something creative, a new tactic to invent... certainly more enjoyable than just improving the original programming.

■ ■ ■

The tug from Blackmount Station actually arrived a full day before the two new missile frigates the UFW sent to patrol the area and protect the station. So by the time they
did
arrive, escorting the Marine troop transport, the tug had already maneuvered the wrecked pirate frigate to the station, managing to gently maneuver her into the Resurrection's interior bay. Using power jumpers and a little elbow grease, the tug crew was able to extend the remaining landing legs of the shattered frigate so they could set her on the deck upright, without fear of her shifting or rolling over. Because Blackmount Station was so well established, they had an abundance of equipment and the tug was on loan to Resurrection without a return deadline. The squat little ship which was basically all engines, docked on the same side of the station as the Bowman, about two-thousand feet forward of her position, the stasis transmitters capturing her hull.

Temporarily acting as the station's Traffic Control Manager, Steele was in the upper deck of the tower, directing the various ships coming and going around the station. After securing the hull of the Marine troop transport, he remotely extended the gangway tube, watching the cameras mounted inside the tube as he guided it toward the hatchway on the side of the transport's hull. The graphic lined up on the video screen, the tube contacting the outer rim of the hatchway. “Lined up with positive contact, Marine 756...”

“
Marine 756, contact, aye. Locking boarding structure, stand by. Marine 756, has positive lock. Ready to pressurize.”

Jack slid the lever on the console and watched the readouts on the screen imposed over the video of the hatchway. “Pressurizing... seals positive.” The console lights went green. “Atmosphere reached and sustained, ready to accept personnel.”

“
Aye, thank you Resurrection tower. Preparing to disembark.” Jack watched the hatchway pop open, swinging partly outward then rotating in out of the way. A Marine officer appeared in the opening and looked square at the camera, saluting. “Permission to board, sir.”

Jack couldn't clearly see his rank, but it really didn't matter, he was just curious. “Aye, permission granted. Welcome aboard Resurrection Station.”

He watched the figure turn and look over his shoulder, “Let's go boys and girls, grab your gear! This is home for the next twelve months...” Marines started filing out past him, “Mind your heads,” he reminded them, “no gravity in the gangway.”

Steele turned away from the video, keying an open page on the flight deck. “Who do we have down on the deck to receive..?”

Dayle Alaroot keyed his mic, “Warrant Officer Alaroot, I can handle it Skipper...”

Jack keyed his mic, “Thanks, Dayle. We've got a Marine company coming in on the starboard side. Do you have someone who can get them situated?”

Dayle picked up his e-Pad off the wingtip of the cargo shuttle being unloaded, “I've got the layout sir, I'll take care of it. Sergeant Mac and a few of the boys will handle the prisoner transfer.”

■ ■ ■

It didn't seem like an entire week. Probably because the days ran into one another, time blurring, the work progressing nonstop around the clock, ships coming and going continuously, people filtering in from all over the galaxy. It was exhausting. But, things were shaping up and progressing nicely. A new Station Administrator arrived with a bridge and station crew, and the Air Boss and his support staff had arrived earlier today. The only personnel they were still short on for general operations, were deck hands for staffing the bays and engineering. For the time being, the arrival of the Marine company earlier in the week was a blessing for the staff shortcomings. Of course, it would probably be a while before the restaurants, stores or clubs were open, but at the speed things were happening, Jack didn't expect that to take more than a few weeks. All-in-all, it seemed the UFW had really stepped up to the plate to take advantage of the situation. He had expected their response with resources to be more lukewarm considering their initial hesitation; it was refreshing to see they had collectively pulled their heads out of their asses and moved with conviction. But then again, it was a free station, how could they not?