Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (25 page)

Josh and Jordon turned to meet the newcomers. The nearest
cruiser,
HMS Javelin
, like
Dark Horse
, allowed their approach go
unopposed. Targeting its shields and scanners, the little Talons fired.
Javelin
fell surprisingly fast. Mistaking the Talons as friendlies in retreat instead
of for the very real danger they posed was indeed costly, but how far could
Josh and Jordon press their luck in doing this? Apparently not as far as Josh
would have liked.

The third cruiser Joshua approached must have gotten word somehow.
As soon as the little ships came within range, the cruiser opened up on them
with everything it had. A barrage of heavy fire forced Josh and Jordon to not
only dodge every shot but retreat for safety sake. Despite Rachel’s
enhancements, their little Talons were no match for the big war ship. For them
the war was over.

Skillful pilots could’ve weaved their way through the
firestorm, found their marks, and destroyed them before heading on toward their
next victim, but neither Josh nor Jordon had such talent.

For the rebel fleet following them it now became a serious
fight. To win this battle the rebels would have to return hit for hit, bullet
for bullet, and blood for blood.

Then one well-placed shot tore Captain Gentry’s ship in
half, and Joshua’s stomach instantly twisted.

To plan and strategize was one thing, but in actual battle
one had to expect death and be prepared for it. Chits on a map. Diagrams on a
chart. This was nothing like that at all. Josh knew Captain Gentry. During his
tenure with Buck, Gentry and Josh had become close. The old man had taken Josh
fishing and hunting in Rhone, and he talked often about his philosophies of
life in ways Josh could relate to and appreciate.

It was from him that Josh learned that the rebels didn’t aim
to take life at all. Instead, they simply sought to render their enemy unable
to fight. Men would die. Sure. But Gentry said there was no reason to be
vicious about it. With his heart shattered, Josh suddenly saw this . . .
this
philosophy as ridiculous. Adrenaline had done its best to change
Joshua’s mind on that matter. He wanted these men stopped. He wanted them dead.
He took a healthy breath to calm himself.
Why not?
he thought.
They
wanted
him
dead.

Blasted Buck!
When Josh was with him, Capt.
Buckhannon French always preached mercy, and right now those arguments were at
odds with Joshua’s urges. He wanted revenge. He didn’t want to bridle his
hatred. He wanted to unleash his fury on those who were killing his friends.

So here they were, a ragtag militia engaging the
Confederate’s military might. His side had done well up to this point, but now
the beast before them was wounded, determined to survive . . .
and
deadly
. Josh knew the creature would now lash out at them with greater
ferocity. He took a breath, pushed aside his fears, and turned back toward the
cruiser.

Of what was left of the Confederation fleet—
fifteen large
ships
—the battle cruisers clustered together to combine their firepower. But
wait! One ship was missing. Which one?

Flying headlong into that firestorm, Joshua’s Talon got
clipped and spun wildly. It took everything he had to recover control, but
nearly dying woke him up. Josh realized that it was asking too much of either
Captain Kori or of himself to get through the enemy’s guns. Wisely,
reluctantly, he and Jordon turned away. In retreat, Joshua’s Talon was hit
again, and all of his ship’s power instantly dropped away.

Captain Kori pulled up alongside him. Guessing what had just
happened, he immediately dropped back to cover Joshua’s rear. Helpless to do
otherwise, Josh watched Jordon position his Talon between him and the raging
enemy fire.

“Blast!” he muttered. In this crippled ship he was a sitting
duck. The position Jordon had taken had made him one as well. Working to
reignite his engines, Josh heard something strange. In his headset he heard
Capt. Kori say, “
Freefall
, it’s time.”

Time? Time for what?

Suddenly another ship appeared on the horizon. A bright
energy ball flashed from it and tore through the rebel fleet. Three ships
vaporized.

Another flash. Two more vanished.

The rebels hurried to separate.

A concussion rocket exploded between the two Talons. Jordon’s
ship was hit and flipped nose over tail right back toward the large enemy
ships. The concussive force knocked Joshua’s Talon forward and away from
danger.

Buck slammed a fist down on his command chair’s armrest.
“What just happened?!”

His helmsman looked back at him and shook his head. “The
Prince
Rutherford
, sir. She’s packing a wallop.”

“I see that! What happened to the Talons?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Jordon Kori’s Talon has been hit. It was
friendly fire.”

“And Joshua Chisholm, where is he?”

“The kid, sir? His Talon is there. It looks dead and is
drifting.”

“Into danger?”

“No, sir, back toward open space away from the big ships.
Sir, he’s near enough. We can pick him up.”

“Do it. And get me to Jordon as soon as you can.”

“Sir, Kori is in the
Rutherford’s
flight path. If we
don’t do something now, his Talon will be crushed by the cruiser.”

“Let Josh be for now. Get us to Kori before anything else.”

“Aye, sir,” said the helmsman.

Like before, the xebecs led the way as the rebel fleet dove
at the Confed ships. Gunfire, cannon, and rockets filled the sky. Capt.
Chonri’s previously crippled corsair,
Zion’s Prize
, exploded as two
well-placed torpedoes speared its hull. The explosion knocked Jordon’s Talon
clear of the big ship’s flight path. Muncy’s ship, flying too close to
Zion’s
Prize
, bucked and spun as it took the brunt of the concussive force.
Shrapnel tore through its hull. Then, bleeding power,
it quickly went black, lifeless. One rebel ship after the next
fell to the Confed guns.
Rutherford
was taking out two and three at a
time. To avoid it, the rebels sped to use the other Confed ships as cover. It
had suddenly become too much to take, Buck ordered retreat.

He rubbed his knit forehead. This fight, turning on a dime,
quickly became a disaster. With the cruisers bunched together and covering each
other’s flanks, there was no way to get at them short of suicide. “We’ve lost,”
he said under his breath. “Back off and let them pass.”

Freefall
suddenly appeared from the asteroids and
moved to recover Jordon’s Talon.

Solaris
moved in to capture Joshua’s craft, and then
beat a hasty retreat into the asteroid field.

The
Rutherford
fired on
Freefall
. Too near to
avoid the shot, the direct impact disintegrated
Freefall’s
shields, ripped
open a side panel, and shattered her port engine. Badly wounded,
Freefall
still managed to withdraw back into the asteroids behind
Solaris
.

“Too damned close,” Buck muttered, and thanked God for Jordon’s
super-shielding. His sister had taken an awful chance to save Jordon. But how
did she know he was in trouble?

Suddenly a fresh ship screamed into the mix. Sleek and
agile, it leveled cannon, rocket, and torpedo on the Confed ships. Dodging
every shot, it pounded the fed ships, then banked and sped away.

“What the . . .?” asked Jennings, the man who had
replaced David Courtney as First officer. “Who are they?”

The cruiser came in again, fired on the Fed ships, and again
sped off before they could respond.

“Its name?!” Buck shouted. “What’s its name?”

The helmsman studied his monitor. “Its prow says
. . . ERICCA, sir”

The sky was thick with gunnery. At Ericca’s arrival, the
rebels reinterred the frey.

The
Prince Rutherford
rounded the Confed ships and turned
toward the rebel fleet, it’s maw toward Buck’s ship. He could see straight down
its gullet as deep inside it began to glow as it prepared a fresh charge. His
ship didn’t have
Freefall’s
shields. In fact, wounded,
Adventurer
barely had any shields at all. A bright glow started at the distal end of
Rutherford’s
cavernous belly. Despite the helmsman’s efforts,
Adventurer
was moving
too slow to get out of the way.

A blinding white ball appeared deep inside the
Rutherford
,
and began to grow like the sun as it advanced toward the ship’s mouth.

“God, save us,” Buck muttered.

Suddenly the
Rutherford
burst apart. The Confed ships
nearest it glowed for a moment, then slowly faded until they were no more than
wisps of smoke.

Buck stared in dismay.

“What’s going on?” the radioman said. “Sir, what’s
happening?”

A touch of nervous laughter couched his words. “I wish I
knew. Where is that new arrival? Where did the
Ericca
go?”

In response to the massive explosion, the few remaining
Confed ships hurried to distance themselves from the
Prince
. As they
moved away from the flashpoint, they moved away from each other, and this gave
the rebels an opening.

Too wounded to take advantage, Buck ordered his fleet back.
The
Ericca
, however, moved in mercilessly to light up shields and tear
away chunks of the enemy vessels.

Abandoning the fight, the remaining Confed cruisers
regrouped and, in a cluster, headed for open space.

The
Ericca
followed.

“Sir,” the radioman said, “
Solaris
has recovered
Joshua. He’s okay.”

Buck barely heard him. With his anger flaring, he slapped
his armrest again. “Rhone will soon be discovered. We’ll have to find a new
home, a new hiding place, some other hidden refuge. Blast this war to hell!”

Seeing no one move he turned to the radioman. “Send out the
word. Orders are to begin repairs. Those that can are to look for survivors.”

The radioman nodded.

The helmsman turned the ship and, with what remained of the
rebel fleet, moved away to a safe distance. They had taken a disastrous
beating. Disheartened, Buck saw a bleak future. Even with Jordon’s upgrades it
was clear now that there would be no winning this war if Providence failed
them.

Buck felt sick. If Jordon didn’t make it, Buck’s sister
would be devastated. His niece, Rachel, already fatherless, would be shattered.
Jordon had said his tech wouldn’t save anyone. Deep down Buck knew that Jordon
was right. His nephew’s advanced technology served only to swell the insatiable
greed of ambitious men.

The Confed fleet, the few remaining ships, accelerated and
disappeared into the distance.

“Contact
Freefall
,” Buck said. “Let’s pray the man is
still alive. And find out who owns that other ship. They saved our collective
butts.”

“Sir,” the radarman shouted. “I see flashes!”

“Where?”

“It’s the remaining Confed ships, sir. Someone has engaged them.”

“Settle down. They’re probably shooting off some guns just
celebrate their escape. Have Josh shuttled over here, and let me know when he’s
aboard.”

“Yes sir.”

Buck pushed to his feet and retired to his cabin which was
just off the bridge. With exhaustion finally taking its toll, he fell into his
bunk fully dressed, sighed heavily once, and fell asleep.

A knock on his door roused him. He rubbed his face, and sat
up. “Come!”

The door hissed open. Jennings, stepped into the room. “Sir,
Doc says Joshua Chisholm is battered, but he’ll recover.”

“Well, finally some good news. And Jordon Kori; any news?”

“Nothing yet, sir.”

Buck nodded.

“Sir, there’s something else. A Providence fleet, Admiral
Hammond commanding, has arrived. They engaged the Confeds but didn’t finish
them off.”

Buck grimaced at that. “Stupid retards.” There was little
love between him and the
slow-on-the-uptake
Providence military. He knew
that asking them for their help was an idiot’s move the moment he did it.

“Thirdly—”

“Thirdly?”

“Yes sir. His Highness,
so-called
, King Blackhart has
come here in force, sir. He commands better than sixty ships. He requests
permission to come aboard.”

“Requests permission?” he said in dismay. He flicked a
dismissive hand. “Sure. Why not? Grant it. He wants my surrender, and we’re in
no position to fight. So, fine, send him in.”

Buck and Jennings went down to the Cargo bay to greet Blackhart.

Buck never thought he’d see this day, but here it was. Known
for having a heart of tar, Saundler Blackhart was scum, worse than scum, ruling
the most vicious people in the galaxy. If Buck had thought about it he would
have strapped explosives to his own chest to rid the universe of this plague
calling himself King. He ground his teeth as the Royal shuttle settled among
the crates and boxes. The side hatch opened, and guards stepped out to look
around and secure the area. With a gesture they
Okay
ed the bay as clear
of threats, and Tyson Blackhart stepped out.

“Tyson?”

“Captain French.”

“I, uh, whu . . .”

“You were expecting dear old Dad perhaps?”

“I was. I was informed that King Blackhart was coming
aboard.”

“And so he has.”

Buck’s brows raised in surprise. “Seriously? So the old man
is no more?”

“Died two years back. So I’m the big cheese now.”

“I suppose you want my sword?”

“No. I came to offer my assistance. Is there a place where
we can speak privately?”

“Sure. My cabin is up this way.”

Buck led Tyson and his guards to the lift, through the
bridge, and into the Captain’s cabin. Settling the king into a comfortable
chair, Buck sent for tea, and the two men talked.

“I’ve sent my people into the asteroids,” Ty started, “to
recover the living and whatever bodies there might be. I see you’re people have
taken quite a beating.”

“I thought we’d fair better. If we could have only held off
until Hammond arrived . . .”

“Hammond’s fleet was surprised by those Confed cruisers’ big
guns. I’m told they were a handful for him and his ships.”

“They were for us, as you can plainly see.”

“I wish you’d have sent word to me.”

“I would have, had I known. I didn’t want my dire situation
coming to the attention of your father.”

“
That
is understandable.”

“Is
Ericca
yours?”

“I’m hopeful.”

“Huh?”

Just then the door chimed.