The Price of Freedom (Wing Commander Book 4) by William R. Forstchen & Ben Ohlander

Author:William R. Forstchen & Ben Ohlander [Forstchen, William R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2017-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

Seether sat in Paulson's plush, jump-capable shuttle, reading the captain's report on the Lexington's damage. The portside bay had lost the final alignment stage of the bays' firing coils. The pilots, their morale already battered by the defection of two of their senior officers and the loss of five comrades' ejection pods to the rebels or to space, had refused to essay the bay without the final stage being repaired. Paulson had caved in to their deputation, effectively ending offensive flight operations from the port bay until it was fixed. It would figure that an alignment coil required depot echelon maintenance. For want of a nail . . .

He had to admit to himself that he would have done the same thing if he had been in the pilots' boots. They needed the alignment coil to ensure the launch cradles' accurate retraction and the final positioning of the fighters as they emerged from the tubes. Without it, each launch was unpredictable, as was cradle retraction. The combination could be fatal.

The starboard bay had suffered even more physical damage. An Arrow had detonated and had lodged in the bay's throat. Its ordnance had exploded, sending burning fuel and pieces of payload into the launch area proper. Six Project personnel had died.

The carrier would be out of action for a month, perhaps six weeks. Admiral Petranova was throwing a ring-tailed fit over the damage to her sole fleet carrier. More importantly, The Project was losing its main portable platform. Their remote base would have to pick up the slack, lengthening mission times and increasing the risks of detection until they could get another asset like the Lexington under their control.

Those assets, like competent and loyal carrier skippers, weren't exactly growing on trees. There would also be a time delay in closing up shop on the Lex, sterilizing the work area, and moving the test platforms elsewhere. Seether was amazed at how much damage could be wrought during one three-hour nap.

He looked slowly up at Paulson, the architect of this mess. He found himself surprisingly in control of his temper. His emotion control drills were paying off.

Paulson paced between the starboard portholes and the airlock, his actor's face outwardly calm. Only the tic above his right eye gave some indicator of the man's state of mind. "My God," he said quietly, over and over, "what a disaster."

He looked up from his pacing and saw Seether watching him. "You have to support me," he blurted. "You've got to back me with Petranova!"

"Stop your whining," Seether replied. He felt his temper heat a notch as Paulson tried to wriggle off the hook he'd sunk into himself. "You were given the Lexington with the understanding that you'd obey my orders." He ticked off the points on his fingers. "You chose to take off after the rebels on your own initiative, you left the escorts behind, you didn't sweep for ambushes, you committed your pilots to battle piecemeal, and at the first sight of trouble you abandoned the fight and any pilots who'd ejected.

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