Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (24 page)

“I thought Lilia had found Archer and me a home, and that’s
why you came for us. To think that your exchange with her was nothing more than
a sale . . . that hurts.”

“Look, that whorehouse was no place for a couple of kids. You
had to know from the onset that men there would want to play grab and tickle.
So, in a sense, you
were
rescued, weren’t you? I remember seeing you
fighting off those men. You were  like a wildcat,” he said recalling that first
day. “They might have had their way,
eventually
. But you certainly
seemed determined to make them pay highly for doing so. That one man’s face.”
He chuckled. “Murder.”

“Like that, did you?”

“Synched the sale, actually.”

She sighed. “This is a lot to take in, Ty. Can I have time
to think about it?”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.”

“So how’s your father?” Startling herself, she reared back.
In Tyson’s company her mind had drawn a blank, defaulting to small talk. “That
was stupid. For a moment I forgot.”

“He died a day after you left.”

“Yes, I heard. Heart-attack, right?”

“Poisoned,” he said flatly. “There was no investigation.
Everyone felt he was a brute who deserved what he got.”

“That’s cold.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Do you know who did it?”

He cocked his head quizzically. “Everyone thought you did
it. You certainly had motive, the opportunity, and the means.”

“I didn’t do it. He scared me, so I ran. But I didn’t kill
him.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“Wasn’t there an investigation?”

“A lot of people wanted him dead. As to the culprit, I have
my suspicions, but I really don’t care to know. Besides, he’s the real reason
you left, isn’t he?”

Ericca dropped her eyes to the floor.

“I know he threatened you.”

She shrugged, but didn’t look up.

To see her eyes he lifted her chin. “I have a better idea.
All of my ships captain’s are titled. What say I grant you the title of ‘Lady,’
and lend you my latest creation to captain.”

“Are you trying to buy my affections?”

He grinned mischievously and took her hand. “I own
everything else. Are your affections now too expensive even for me?”

She jerked her hand away and scowled.

He seemed surprised by her reaction. “I’m sorry. It was a
joke. Honest.”

“Not to me it wasn’t.” Spinning on a heel, she headed for
the door. Tyson didn’t call after her, and in the time it took her to open the
door, in her opinion, he should have. She wanted him to. She wanted to rush
back into his awaiting arms. But he said nothing, and that hurt more than had
he driven a knife through her heart. Stupid, naïve little girl. That’s all she
was.

As she hurried past Archer, she grabbed his arm and yanked
him from the girl he was talking to, and tugged him to follow.

“Wait, sis. Where we goin’?”

She hurried out the front door without answering.

At the foot of the steps an armored vehicle skidded to a
stop. Armed royal guards jumped from it to stop her and Archer. “Miss Archer,”
the captain said, “you two’ll come with us.”

“We most certainly will not.”

“I have my orders, Miss. You’re under arrest.”

“Under what charge?”

“King Blackhart says treason. You two will accompany us
peaceably. Cuffed or unconscious; your choice?”

Her heart fell, and she released a labored breath. So she
was to be Tyson’s fall guy for Saundler’s murder. Her stomach soured.

“This is not my best day ever,” she muttered, holding out
her wrists. “Fine.”

One man cuffed her, and another Riley, then they lead her down
the steps to the troop transport, sandwiched her in between two guards in one
seat, and Archer between two others in another. Ericca wasn’t fond of cuffs,
and her wrists were still bruised from the last time. The soldiers drove around
the mansion to a back road and followed that to the entrance of a secure
mountain complex hidden by its surrounding hills from the village. The gate was
flanked by two cannon turrets. More turrets were strategically placed here and
there encircling the compound. Blue bands of energy projected by posts, which
were themselves incased in protective energy bobbles, formed the gated fence. The
vehicle passed through the gate unhindered, and pulled up next to huge metal
doors framed in concrete built into a hill. Everyone piled out of the vehicle.
At a sudden, low rumbling, the mammoth doors began to spread. Guards removed
her and Archer’s cuffs. Inside, a large, sleek space vessel nearly filled the
room. Tyson stood to one side peering up at it.

As Ericca and Archer went to him, the guards held their
place at the door.

“So, this is your latest and greatest?” Ericca said,
stepping up beside him.

“Took nearly two years to complete,” he said without taking
his eyes off it. “I commissioned its building shortly after you left.” He
looked at her. “After Daddy died, I thought . . .”

He jerked a nod to a man at the door. The roof parted and as
it began to spread to both sides, light flooded in to illuminate the ship. Emblazoned
on its prow was written in big block letters, “ERICCA.”

“Wow,” Riley said in a low voice. “I think the guy is sweet
on you, sis.”

“You think,” Ericca answered.

“Marry me,” Tyson said simply.

Ericca sighed. “You charged me with treason. What is this;
marry you or go to prison?”

“You’re not going to prison. Think of my proposal as an open
invitation.”

“Are you granting me time to think about it?”

His face reflected a mix of irritation and disappointment.
“I’m a king offering you more than any other man can. What is there to think
about?”

“Right now, my friends are facing a juggernaut. I need to
get back to them. I have exactly no time to waste. I
must
get back to
them immediately.”

“I figured you’d say something like that. You wanted fast,
so there you go.”

She hesitated. Was he actually giving her a ship?

“Go ahead, take her,” he said. “The crew is already aboard
and readying her for takeoff, and I had
Viper
placed in her hold.”

Ericca studied him for a moment.

His scowl turned to a smile and he nodded his approval. “Go.
I’ll gather my fleet and be right behind you.”

Beyond the perimeter of the asteroids, mammoth war ships
waited for the rebels. If left alone, they would call for reinforcements and
Saigus would be worse off than before.

Joshua radioed the others. “I’d like to lure these big ships
into the field,” he said, “but I don’t think we can.”

“We could take them on out in the open, Josh,” Buck replied.

“Confed war ships?” Josh chided. “Even if we swarmed
individual ships, lives will be lost. Walking headlong into their guns will be
tantamount to suicide. This is a disaster.”

“And if we left them alone?” Jordon asked.

“Leaving them be would be worse,” Buck radioed back. “The
Confeds will simply call for reinforcements. No. There’s no turning back. They
have to be dealt with here and now.”

Joshua shook his head and looked over at Jordon who sat
beside him in his own Talon. Then it struck him. Rachel had never gotten around
to repainting the ships. As far as the Confederates were concerned, both of
these Talons still belonged to them.

Josh began to formulate a plan. “Captain, I believe if you
and I engage them first, hit them one at a time, and concentrate our fire on
their shield emitters and communications arrays, the rebel fleet following us
can hit the Battle Cruisers straight on. However, we might have to work our way
through heavy gunfire to pull it off. So, to put it simply, those Battle
Cruisers will have to be taken with good old-fashioned blood and intestinal
fortitude.”

Jordon grinned. “And a tad bit of a fifteen-year-old’s
cunning. Well, son, you’ve already brought us through cannon fire and debris,
and you didn’t get us killed. You’ve demonstrated well enough that whatever you
set your mind to you can make happen. It’ll get hot, but I say we go for it.”

“Alright then,” Josh said. He took and released a sobering
breath. “Time to put on my big boy pants. Let’s do this.”

Jordon contacted Buck to tell him Joshua’s plan. “Remember, Uncle.
These Talons are the good guys. Don’t shoot us.”

“Gotcha covered, Jordon. I’ve already alerted my men that
such was the case.”

Without
Freefall
and her top-end tech the rebels had
to modify their tactics to compensate. Moving as a wolf pack the rebels would
follow Rachel’s modified Talons. Their first target? The largest, most heavily
armed ship in the enemy’s arsenal, the
Dark Horse
battle cruiser. To
take it down would bruise the spirits of the rest of the Confederation fleet.
Taking down the next might crush the Confed’s spirits altogether. If successful
this tactic would ultimately turn the odds in the rebels’ favor. Then they could
hunt the smaller cruisers in turn and hopefully win the day even if Providence
help never arrived.

While Ericca commanded the new ship from the bridge, Riley
roamed the halls to get a better look at Tyson’s gift to her. The attention to
detail impressed him. Everything, ornate and posh, was clearly meant for
royalty. That the king had given this ship to Ericca said that he sincerely
wanting to marry Ericca. Even Riley’s cabin, one of the lesser, was roomy,
comfortable, and ostentatious.

Other than the bridge crew, the ship seemed deserted. He had
run into a couple of staffers, but they seemed disinterested in sharing a
moment of conversation with him. As he passed one room, a hand reached out and
yanked him from the hallway. It was Darsea, one of Tyson’s attendants. Growing
up in the Blackhart mansion, Riley had become fast friends with her. During his
brief visit to the mansion just an hour ago, seeing Darsea again stirred
thought long since held in check. His leaving Ericca alone with Tyson, gave
Riley time to reignite his relationship with Darsea. She made it clear that she
wanted to advance their relationship to a new level. Without argument, so did
he.

“What’s up?” he said. She had managed to sneak aboard the ‘
Ericca
’
undetected and had hid until Riley happened along.

“Take me for a ride in
Viper
,” she said with a coy,
inviting smile.

Riley sighed. “Sure, um, let me run this past the captain
first.”

She grabbed his collars, pulled him to her, and kissed him
fully on the mouth. Her lips were warm and tender despite the forceful kiss,
and took away any desire he had to tell anyone she was aboard. When she pulled
back, she batted lamb eyes, and spoke in her most enticing voice, “Please.
Let’s keep this just between you and me. K?”

Riley sighed again, glanced over his shoulder to see that
their way was clear, then nodded. “Alright, but we must be quick.”

Grabbing his hand, she nearly dragged him to the small craft
as they hurried down the hallway to the cargo hold. After putting on his own energy
belt and helmet, he fit Darsea with Ericca’s. Far superior to the cumbersome
cloth and rubber spacesuits currently in use, these formfitting energy bubbles
surrounded their wearers perfectly. Jordon Kori’s invention, the helmet and
belt were nearly weightless.

He climbed into
Viper
while she opened the outer door
and brought the craft to life. Pulling up next to her, she climbed into the
front seat, and out they went to speed away into the darkness.

“Stay near the ship,” Darsea said softly. “I needed to get
you alone to talk.”

“Yeah”

“That ship is bugged and is being tracked.”

“What? Really?”

“This one was too, but I found the tracker and attached it
to the underside of a deck plate in the hold. As long as that tracker doesn’t
move, they’ll think we’re still inside the ship.”

“What’s going on?”

“I overheard King Blackhart talking to that ship’s real
captain. You and Ericca are being set up.”

“Whoa! That’s a pretty stiff allegation, Darsea. Can you
prove it?”

“I can. Maneuver
Viper
up to the ship’s bow and get
as close to the name painted there as you can.”

Riley did as she asked, and as
Viper
neared the prow,
Darsea reached out and ran fingers over the letters. Fresh, black paint smeared
at her touch, and blackened her fingers. Riley reached out and did the same.
The paint hadn’t time to dry, and preserved in the vacuum of space, wouldn’t
anytime soon.

“Well now. Isn’t that something?”

“The King wants Rhone. He’s trying to trick Ericca into
leading him right to it.”

In the war-room of the gargantuan battle cruiser,
Dark
Horse
, Admiral Carlisle Bennington studied the situation he now owned. A
seasoned veteran he was a capable commander though cautious in his execution of
any plan. This damned ghost hunt had cost them plenty as it was. Maybe it was
time to turn tail and git while the gitting was good.

Fulvus was dead, as was his precious flagship. If the
PM
had to have this damnable ghost then he could come out here and get it
himself—and good luck with that.

Bennington trusted the prowess of his ship but now
understood that there was little left to do but survive. What could he do with
what remained of the fleet? Should they attempt to do what the fleet in its
entirety failed to do? He believed not. Saigus had a quadrillion routes of
escape, and there was simply no way for what remained of his fleet to cover
them all. He knew that with the fleet now spread thin the rebels might be
emboldened enough to go on the offensive. Considering the size of his vessel,
though, he figured the rebels would attack the smaller ships first, if at all.

“Sir!” shouted his radarman.

Bennington looked up at the main viewer. To his surprise two
small Talons emerged from the asteroids and headed his way. Could a few Cougars
have escaped destruction? Soon after, in hot pursuit, pirate ships followed
them. The
Dark Horse
lumbered sluggishly as it turned to bring his guns
to bear. Supposing he had to protect his escaping Talons and give them cover
Bennington ordered his gunnery to fire past the two small ships at the pirates
beyond.

Joshua’s breath caught in his throat. Even at a distance the
massive
Dark Horse
filled his view. The nearer they got, the more
horizon the big ship covered. Tackling this ship was nuts.

“Steady, Josh,” Captain Kori consoled. “The bigger they are . . .”

“I forgot how big these ships were. Compared to it, we’re
gnats.”

Both armed their particle cannons and prepared to fire. Josh
targeted the big ship’s scanner array. Jordon its shield generators.

Clearly, whoever commanded
Dark Horse
didn’t judge
correctly the rebels’ determination or their ability for a lightning strike.
Nor did he understand the capabilities of the two Talon pilots he should have
seen as opponents.

To Bennington’s alarm the two tiny fighters swooped in and
fired on his ship. Both of the cruiser’s key systems exploded in a mass of
metal shards and fire. Too swift for his gunners to respond to,
Dark Horse
quickly found itself deaf, dumb, and blind. Without the hope of even landing a
lucky shot the gunners sighted by eye and fired wildly. But like flies through
a light rain the Talons weaved quickly away and moved on to their next target.

Adm. Bennington looked on in dismay. He recognized the two
Talons by their registration marks. He remembered that the two were just some
new paint over old technology, and yet now, before his eyes, they outclassed
his Cougars in every way.

But he had seen similar technology exhibited before. A small
craft with like abilities had terrorized the fleet just days ago. He and his
people could not imagine so much power in such a small vessel, but there it
was. They believed that the previous little ship that had attacked the fleet
near Grenadier was just something new the pirates had developed. Because it
didn’t stick around, the Confederate executive offices figured the little craft
could only expend that much energy in short bursts. They believed that a vessel
wanting to spend that kind of power for any practical length of time would need
huge battery stores or massive fuel tanks. That small craft had neither. Its
behavior, quick
hit and run
tactics, was all the evidence they needed to
support that specious theory anyway.

Bennington remembered trials using Radical Ions as a fuel,
but the stuff proved too volatile. The technology just to contain the unstable
plasma didn’t yet exist and was years . . . even
decades
away.

Behind the Talons the rebel fleet advanced fast, coming at
the
Dark Horse
in force. Bennington’s gunners answered the onslaught
with heavy fire, but without scanners to aim with, their fire-by-sight gunnery
was madness.

The rebels gave back and pummeled what they aimed for. With
its shields down, the
Dark Horse
suffered the direct hits without
argument. Missiles and cannon fire opened it up—portions of hull exploded as
internal air pressure, brutal and violent, found its way out and into the
vacuum of space, taking with it huge chunks of metal and ill-fated crewmen. His
cannons, ripped from their places, flew into the void as only so much worthless
scrap. One by one,
Dark Horse’s
weapons grew cold. The engines shut
down. The lights dimmed. Helpless to stop it Adm. Bennington watched his
command draw its last breath and die. There was but one thing left to do.

He turned to his second in command. “Commander Lefson, you
have the con.”

Turning away he entered his office, closed the door behind
him, took a seat at his desk, and pulled his pistol from a drawer.

Just as he was about to place the pistol’s barrel in his
mouth he heard his bridge crew abruptly cheer. Bewildered, he put his pistol
away and went back out to the bridge which was now completely dark. “What’s
going on?”

“Sir,” said his exec, “Battle cruisers! Just before the main
screen died, Battle cruisers appeared on the horizon. They’re coming over the
Saigus field, and heading straight for us.”

“Yes, but are they ours?”

“I believe so, sir. Fulvus must have radioed for help before
his ship . . . well, he must have called for help.”

Bennington now understood his crew’s newfound hope. There
was still some chance they could survive this battle. Their odds just jumped
from none to slim; but he’d take it.