Wing Commander: Freedom Flight Read online

  At least I won't have to worry about being taken prisoner if that cruiser gets a cannon shot on this little Rapier, there won't be enough of me left for them to capture with a spoon!

  The Heather has to be close to the jump point by now, if I can just shake this one fighter and land, maybe I'll survive this.

  He watched as Paladin's Rapier slowed to dock in the Heather's cargo hold, and glanced back again at the Jalthi on his tail. All right, mate, now we'll see which of us is the better pilot…

  The Rapier was faster and more maneuverable than the Jalthi, but the Jalthi had heavier firepower and armor. If the Kilrathi caught Hunter in his target sights for full burst, that would probably ice Hunter's Rapier on the spot. So the tactic would be to out fly the Kilrathi pilot until he could get a clear missile lock.

  Hunter rolled the Rapier to the right, and the Jalthi awkwardly followed. Hunter followed the roll with an Immelmann followed by another diving roll. "Follow that, furball!" he yelled, smiling grimly.

  The Jalthi pilot tried hard to recover his original firing solution, maneuvering as tightly as he could to regain his position on Hunter's tail, but Hunter knew he had the upper hand now, all he had to do was force the Jalthi into his targeting sights.

  Another tight turn with full brakes, and then the Jalthi was directly ahead of him, overshadowed by the bulk of the Bonnie Heather.

  You're history, mate. Hunter grinned, and held onto his position on the Jalthi's tail for the kill. I should get missile tone any second now.…

  With a start, Hunter realized that the Jalthi wasn't trying any more evasives, but holding to a single course—directly for the Bonnie Heather.

  Hell! He's going for a collision course! If he hits the Heather, it'll go up like a tinderbox!

  "K'Kai, full evasive!" he shouted into the vid. "Do it now, he's trying to ram the ship!"

  Hunter forced every last iota of speed out of the Rapier's engines that he could, bringing the fighter up directly behind the plummeting Jalthi and firing all guns. At the last instant, he heard the tone of a missile lock, and fired the missile as well.

  Oh God, he's going to hit the freighter…

  The Heather suddenly twisted away in a tighter roll than any civilian freighter had ever done before, just as the Jalthi was about to impact. The Jalthi missed the ship by a handful of meters, and Hunter's missile arced into it a split-second later. The Jalthi disintegrated into a million pieces…

  … but there was no way he could avoid the cloud of deadly debris directly ahead of him.

  The Rapier plunged through the remnants of the Jalthi, and Hunter instinctively ducked back in his pilot's chair, even though he knew it wouldn't make any difference. Debris screamed and clanged against the hull of the Rapier as Hunter fought to keep control of the craft. Just as quickly as it had begun, the metal hailstorm was over, and he was in open space again, in a ship that had more holes in it than Swiss cheese.

  Hold together, lady, just a little bit more. He felt the engines spluttering and dying as he brought the Rapier around, heading directly for the Heather's cargo hold. The cargo hold door was already sliding shut. They're getting ready to jump, I've got to get aboard now. Come on, lady, come on…

  The Rapier's engines died as he dived into the hold, sliding across the deck toward the opposite wall. Hunter braced for impact, even as he felt the familiar dizzying twinge of Jump.

  With an awful crunching noise, the Rapier slammed into the wall, coming to a complete stop in that moment. Hunter sat in the cockpit for a moment, shaking his head, then yanked off his helmet and clambered out, staggering slightly as his feet landed on the deck.

  He glanced back at the Rapier, and winced at the sight of the two silver wings crumpled like tinfoil, the nose of the fighter bent at a ninety-degree angle toward the deck. Poor old girl. They just don't make fighters tough enough to withstand what I can put them through, I guess.

  The airlock opened, and several Firekkans ran out to greet him, surrounding him and grooming his hair with their beaks. He laughed and tried to duck out from beneath their welcoming ritual.

  Amazing. We're alive and on our way out of Kilrathi territory. We survived it, we succeeded, against all the odds.

  All except for Gwen…

  "Good work, Hunter!" Paladin called, striding in through the airlock. "Though if you ever break from my wing like that again, I'll kill you before the Kilrathi can!"

  "You're just getting old, James." Hunter grinned. "Leave the fighting to young turks like myself, mate!"

  "Hah!" Paladin clapped him on the shoulder. "Not a chance, laddie!"

  K'Kai emerged from the airlock, her eyes bright as she limped toward Hunter and Paladin. Kirha walked beside her into the hold. "We are now in human space, and are progressing toward the next jump coordinates," K'Kai said. "The sensors say there are no Kilrathi in this system, so I have placed the ship on AutoNav."

  "You handled the ship beautifully, K'Kai," Hunter said. "That last maneuver to avoid the Jalthi, that was amazing! I told you that you'd be an awesome combat pilot!"

  K'Kai ducked her head in embarrassment. "Thank you, Hun-ter."

  "And you, Kirha…" Hunter searched for the right words to say. "You've served me well, sworn warrior. You've, ah, brought honor to me and my hrai."

  "I am pleased that I have served my lord well," the young Kilrathi said, straightening to stand tall and proud.

  "Hmmph," Paladin said, giving Hunter an odd look. He turned to K'Kai. "It was a good trick, K'Kai, but it's going to take weeks to repair the internal damage. Freighters aren't supposed to roll at high gees, ye know!"

  "Quit hassling her, mate!" Hunter protested. "She did a terrific job!"

  "I know, but—" Paladin paused, looking back toward the airlock. "What's that?"

  Hunter turned; there was a line of Firekkans, carrying improvised torches made of fabric and pipes. Even at this distance, he could smell the engine fuel that they'd used to saturate the cloth. The torches burned smokily, the light reflecting off the metal of the deck.

  "It is a fire ceremony," K'Kai explained. "To honor our dead, and Lieutenant Gwen Lar-son."

  The Firekkans carrying the torches took flight a moment later, circling near the ceiling of the cargo hold. Then, with graceful, studied movements, they began a series of flying maneuvers, using the torches to create a brilliant pattern of burning fire between them. Hunter watched in awe as the pattern became more and more complex, the Firekkans weaving and gliding into their ritual movements.

  K'Kai spoke in the Firekkan language, ceremonial words that matched the rhythm of the flight, then spoke in English. "And so we honor our dead, and remember their glorious last flight."

  Their glorious last flight… Hunter thought of Gwen, the laughter in her eyes, the way she'd blushed at his teasing. And his last sight of her, in the landing bay of an alien space station. Goodbye, sweetheart, he thought, as the Firekkans glided down to land on the deck.

  Standing next to him, Paladin wiped his eyes. "She was a good lass, Hunter," he said. "I'll miss her."

  "I know, James," Hunter said. I'll miss her, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It seemed to Hunter that he hadn't looked this—military—since he'd graduated. Certainly this was the stiffest he'd stood at attention since that time.

  Beside him, Paladin looked much more relaxed—although, if you knew the subtle signs, his grief for Gwen was plain for anyone to read.

  Hunter's own grief had been buried, with the rest of his losses. Later, he would mourn her properly—but the Commodore's office was no place for mourning, and he was damned if he was going to let anyone see his grieving. When this was all over—then, maybe.

  And he wasn't going to let anything show to the brass.

  Commodore Steward watched them both from behind the bulwark of his desk, his face as impassive as the metal of the wall behind him. Plain metal desk, plain, bare-walled room, nothing to indicate the man's personality. Hunter had no idea what to exp
ect from him. He'd heard that Steward was a fair man, but a hard one. For Paladin there might have been some excuses—but Hunter had gone AWOL into enemy territory, and he was going to have to talk fast to get himself out of this one.

  For a moment, he wondered wearily if it was worth it—would it be so bad, to be sent out of the combat zone in disgrace? No more fighting… no more deaths on his conscience—

  Then he straightened his shoulders, giving himself a mental shake. What was he thinking of? He must have gotten a hit on the head he hadn't noticed, to be thinking like that!

  "I brought you two runaways here to see if you have any reasonable explanations for your actions," Commodore Steward said, after a long silence. "If you can satisfy me, you just might manage to avoid a court-martial." He looked them both over for another long moment. "Well?"

  "Permission t' explain, sir," Paladin spoke up, before Hunter could say anything. Steward nodded his approval.

  "Hunter here is good friends with both the Firekkan K'Kai and with Kirha, the Kilrathi lad," Paladin said smoothly. "Actually, he is considerably more than 'friends' with Kirha; he is able to personally command the lad's loyalty, and it is absolute. As a result of that rather odd friendship, the two aliens began talkin' to each other, while Kirha was in detention. As you know, sir, K'Kai has been here at Confed High Command for some time, pressurin' Confed to do something about the hostage situation with her people."

  "We lacked manpower to do anything about that," the Commodore reminded him.

  "We lacked conventional manpower," Paladin corrected. "Sir. And I'm aware ye had other plans for me, but technically, I wasna yet on assignment. Now, even unconventional means would hae been impossible to put into action, except for the one thing no one had forseen—the cooperation of Kirha. He felt very strongly that takin' those hostages was so dishonorable that it tarnished the entire race, and he was willing to go in there personally to release them in order to remove some of that dishonor. Well—with a Kilrathi cooperating, a covert operation suddenly became not only possible, but had a high degree of success. Or so I judged, sir."

  Hunter couldn't help but notice that Paladin had omitted being held at gunpoint, and then being kidnapped. He relaxed, just a trifle. Maybe Paladin was going to get them all out of this…

  "So you judged." The Commodore seemed a little less than amused. "And why didn't you mention this to High Command? You should have presented this possibility and waited for formal orders."

  "Because the situation was time-critical, sir," Paladin replied promptly. "Kirha was goin' to be sent to a detention camp at any moment. The hostage situation itself was precarious. The Kilrathi could hae decided to terminate them at any time. And my standing orders from Vice Admiral Tolwyn are to preserve the treaty between Firekka and Terra at any cost. In fact, if you don't mind my pointing this out, sir, the hostage rescue has not only done that, it has given us a distinct advantage in our dealings with Firekka."

  Hunter would have stared open-mouthed if he hadn't been trying to keep his military poker-face on. Where was Paladin getting this stuff? No wonder he was in covert operations—he could probably talk his way out of almost anything!

  "At the cost of one of our own."

  Paladin flinched, but continued to look the Commodore in the eyes. "Aye, sir. An' that was as much my fault as anythin'. I take full responsibility."

  "And what about you?" the Commodore said, turning to Hunter. "How do you explain your involvement in this?"

  "Well, Kirha wouldn't go without my being along," he lied, thinking quickly. "It's kind of complicated, sir, but Kirha kind of got sworn to me as a sort of personal knight, and I had to be there with him—it's a Kilrathi honor thing." He shrugged. "Paladin—ah, Major Taggart here also figured he might need a fighter covering his tail when we peeled on out of there, and I'm a fighter-pilot, so that kind of settled that."

  He couldn't tell if the Commodore believed him or not—but it didn't really matter. After a moment, the gray-haired man nodded, as if he had.

  "I'll accept that," he said, shortly. "Dismissed, both of you."

  With that, he turned back to the work on his desk—and both of them made their escape before he could change his mind.

  Once the door to the office was closed and they were safely out in the hallway where they wouldn't be overheard, Hunter grabbed Paladin's sleeve before he could get away. "How come you didn't mention those orders from the Vice Admiral before?" he asked suspiciously, wondering if Paladin hadn't somehow maneuvered him into this escapade.

  "Because I didna have them before," Paladin replied, grinning. "But I will by the time the Commodore checks the files for them—if you'll let go of my arm, that is, laddie! The Vice Admiral is a—flexible sort of man, where success is concerned."

  Hunter dropped his hand, quickly. Paladin turned to go—then turned back, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. "Hunter," he said, "I know this sounds odd—but did you really trust Kirha? Right from the beginnin' of this?"

  Hunter grimaced. "Well," he said reluctantly, "it may sound crazy, but yes. I did. It's—that honor thing. I don't think he'd turn on me even to save his own life. And this is even crazier—but I kind of like the guy. He has his moments. Why do you ask?"

  "Because I'd like to get Ralgha released from detention to work with me on contacting those rebels of his on Ghorah Khar; once he's cleared from interrogation, I'd like to see Confed throw in full support for that rebellion. I think it's the best way we've got of stoppin' this war." His eyes darkened with more pain than just Gwen's death. "That is what it's all about, isn't it? Stoppin' the war? Sometimes we forget that, lad. It's mortal easy t' do, when we've lost so many friends."

  Slowly, Hunter nodded. "Sometimes we do," he replied. "Sometimes it's—easier that way."

  Paladin nodded, then turned to half-run, heading for his little meeting with Vice Admiral Tolwyn.

  Hunter tracked down Paladin later that afternoon, in the mess hall near the flight deck. Over sandwiches and beer, Paladin explained that he had managed to get those orders… retroactively… from the Vice Admiral, and that a court-martial was looking less likely by the minute.

  "So now you're heading off to the Enigma Sector to rejoin the Tiger's Claw, Ian?" Paladin asked.

  Hunter shook his head. "Not just yet. There are a few things that I have to do first. Do you know where Kirha is?"

  "Detention, probably." Paladin sighed. "I thought maybe what we did would help that lad, but it looks like all we've done is cement his fate. The Vice Admiral's belief is that because Kirha didna come over to the Confederation of his own accord, he can't be trusted, even though he's oath-sworn to you, Ian. Their theory is that if anything happened to you, Kirha would revert back to his original loyalties. Ralgha's a different matter. But they'll probably ship Kirha off to a prisoner camp on the next available transport."

  "I'd better hurry, then." Hunter held out his hand to Paladin; the older man clasped it firmly. "It's been a hell of a lot of fun, James. Until next time?"

  "You bet, laddie!" The Scotsman grinned. "It was insane and nearly suicidal, but I wouldn't hae missed it for the world. We singlehandedly kept the Firekkans in the Confederation, do ye realize that? Without us, their leaders would still be locked up on Ghorah Khar, and they'd probably hae ended up a Kilrathi planet eventually." His face clouded. "All I wish is that Gwen could be here right now to share the victory with us."

  Hunter sighed. "I know, mate. Take care of yourself, old man."

  "I will. Good luck to ye, Hunter." Paladin made the conventional phrase sound as if he meant it.

  "You too, James." Hunter meant it, too.

  He walked quickly toward the Detention areas, hoping that he wasn't too late. Striding down the main corridor, he saw two guards escorting Kirha from his cell. The tall Kilrathi was shuffling awkwardly; Hunter saw why a moment later. Kirha wearing a pair of wrist and ankle binders, in addition to the bandages for his wounds… standard for prisoners about to be transported, Hu
nter remembered. "Wait!" he called.

  "Sir?" one of the guards asked.

  "I need to talk to Kirha," Hunter explained.

  The guards were not pleased—but he outranked them. "But this prisoner has to be on a transport in twenty minutes, sir!"

  "Just a few minutes," he said stubbornly. "That's all I'm asking."

  "Very well, sir." The guard palmed open Kirha's old cell. "You can talk in here."

  "Thanks, mate." Hunter followed Kirha into the cell. The Kilrathi stood silently near the open door. "So, uh, have they told you where you're going?" Hunter asked.

  The Kilrathi shrugged. "A prisoner camp. It does not matter where." He looked at Hunter, then lowered his eyes. "I thought I would never see you again, my lord Hunter."

  He flushed under the embarrassment of realizing how he had failed to live up to Kirha's expectations. "Kirha, I'm sorry. I know how much this liege lord business means to you. I wish there was something I could do…" An odd thought occurred to Hunter. "Maybe… maybe there is. Kirha, is it possible for a Kilrathi liege lord to release someone from their oath?"

  "It is possible," Kirha said. "But it is rarely done."

  "What would happen if I did that?"

  Kirha was silent for a long moment before speaking. "Then I would be sworn to no one. I would have no lord, no master."

  All things considered, that only seemed fair. "I think I'd like to do that. You've been through so much for me and the others, it doesn't seem fair not to do this. How do I do it?"

  "There is a ritual formula for releasing a sworn warrior from his oath, but it happens so rarely, I cannot remember the ceremony," he admitted, after a moment of thought.

  All right, this wasn't the first time he'd had to improvise. Seemed like his whole life had been one long improvisation, sometimes. "How 'bout this instead, mate? Kirha hrai Hunter nar Aussie, I, Captain Ian St. John, release you from your oath to me. You're a free man… I mean, Kilrathi… sworn to no one. You are your own master now. You're free."

  "Freedom." Kirha said the word slowly, as if savoring the word. "I am free?"