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For 35yrs the border between the Human Empire and Gorgonzola Empire as remained mostly peaceful. The citizens for the Human Empire of this border region are loyal to the last man, woman, and child to the Empire. It was on one of these worlds that gave birth to a legend. The world of Apollo 6 is one of the harshest worlds within the Empire. One so harsh that only it could claim to be the birth world of James J. Owens, the most feared of Death Dealers. A world that is even now poised to give birth to a new legendary warrior. One who shall be baptized in the blood of the Empire’s enemies. Robert Wolff youngest great grandchild of James Owens’ sister Cecilia Owens.

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Chapter 6
Assault Dropship Golden Fortune, Equinox Jump point, Apollo 6, Highlands system

War Admiral Abramo Mattaliano looked out the forward view port of the assault dropship. Over the last seven hours his fleet had jumped in system at various point around the ring point of the system. Even with bringing his ship in at the equinox point he knew that he greatest worry lay ahead of him. The orbital defense satellites of the Maroon Earth. No not the Maroon Earth yet, but Apollo 6. He knew that he could not trust the traitor in the Apollo 6 government. Not when his orders were to kill the man the second, they had secured the capital city. Now for the first time in over thirty years the Grand Expeditionary Freedom Forces of the Gorgonzola Empire were in position to retake the Hibernating Expanse.

The last four attacks on the Expanse had been nothing more than probing attacks. Seeking out valuable technical data, and military intelligence. They had learned where the Human Empire was weakest along this front. They had gained valuable intelligence on the people that populated this sector. They knew exactly what had to be done to subjugate the people of the Maroon Earth. Here was the lynchpin for the whole Expanse. Crush Maroon Earth, the rest of the Expanse will fall in line.

“Now, we bring these rabid dogs to heel. After more than a thousand years. This Expeditionary Force will be the one to correct the injustice force upon our Chancellors.” Ambro said to no one in particular.

“Trust us sire, we know.” The Captain grunted. “Shall I send the order to attack?”

“Have the last of our forces moved into position yet, Captain?” Ambro asked sharply.

“All ships are in position for the assault, Admiral. Only the orbital satellites stand in our way.” The Captain just pointed to the holo-tank and the positions of the operational PDF satellites. “Only the ones that are currently manned pose a true threat. A small threat, but one that can be easily neutralized.”

“What of our Jump Infantry? Are they prepared for their drops?” Ambro asked.

“All fifty drop zones had been marked by our troop carriers. The destroyers, and frigates, are in position to support their drops with orbital bombardment if necessary. The battleships and carriers will be in position for attacks on key cities within seven hours. The assault dropships will be in place and starting their assault burns one hour after that. The battle platform Blazing Heart will be in position to carry out interdiction duties in six hours.” The Captain told him tiredly. He has gone over the assault plans for the Maroon Earth every day for the last ten days with Ambro. Not for the first time he wished that rank was not connected to a title within their military. Like many of his fellow professional officers he felt that the Nobles of their Empire were little boys playing at war.

It was most commonly felt about the current Grand War Commander Adalardo Faustino and Exalted Supreme High Chancellor Innocenzo Juliana. After spending the last ten days with the man the Captain really looked at War Admiral Abramo Mattaliano. ‘Another foolish nobleman wanting to play the war game. I wonder how many more of these foolish attempts the High Chancellors will make before they give up their worthless claim to this system and stars in it.’

“Have our agents been signaled?” Ambro asked coldly.

“They should start their attacks an hour before the first of our Jump Infantry hit ground.” The Captain told Ambro for the umpteenth time.

“Is there any way to move up their timetable?” Ambro asked with an evil grin.

“I don’t know sir. We might be able to force a time change, but I would advise against it. Too many deaths among our allies could cause us problems with pacification later on.” The Captain quickly said trying to warn Ambro off this plan of action. Unlike his Commander he knew that the key to this system wasn’t crushing the people of this planet but winning them over.

“That will be our alley’s problem. We are here on a Holy Crusade to return our rightful sovereign territory to our Great Empire. These dogs have refused to recognize our rights to rule them. If a few of them die in achieving our goals all the better. They will pay in blood for every glorious solider that has died at their rebellious hands. The streets will run red with their blood.” Ambro snarled as he clenched his fist. “They are not rightful citizens of our Empire, but subjects fit only to be slaves. There will be no mercy. Make no mistake Captain. This is genocide. The total eradication of all life on the Maroon Earth.”

“But those are not the orders of our Supreme High Chancellor, War Admiral. We are to free the people of his system.” The Captain argued.

“Captain you are a fine example of what a commoner can achieve under our system.” Ambro sighed as if trying to explain a great truth to a small child. “Those of us among the Nobility know the only way to truly end this continuous conflict with the Human Empire. The Conquest of the Hibernating Expanse is just the first step in restoring all of Human Space under one nation. Our Nation.”

“You will have to forgive my ignorance, sir. How does conquering the Hibernating Expanse lead to the conquest for the rest of the Human Empire?” the captain feared the answer he was about to receive.

“The Human Empire can ill afford the loss of the Hibernating Expanse. The majority of their greatest warriors come from this area of their false empire. We take the Hibernating Expanse and we cut off their supply of Death Dealer Candidates.” Ambro explained as he raise his fist and smashed it down through the projection of Apollo 6. “And here is the lynchpin. Pull it and all else falls before us.”

Unlike Ambro the Captain knew the truth. He was not delusional to the point that he would believe that this one system held that great of importance. He knew the Death Dealers were drawn from all over their Empire. No one system could produce the sheer number of appellants needed to fill their ranks. Not matter how they went about gathering those forces. Not even with forced enlistments.

A beeping came from the holo-tank drawing both men’s attention. To their amazement half the orbital satellites went offline. The Captain didn’t waste any time. “Send the order to the Jump Infantry transports to drop their troops. Have the destroyers and frigates pull out of line. Send them after the those still operating satellites. All ships-of-the-line are to jump to their final attack positions now. The attack commences now, Comrades. We take the Maroon Earth for our people.”

Across the Apollo 6 system jump points form in brilliant blazes of light. What he ordered was risky but in war one must take risks. Even as the engines of his jump drives came to full power the Captain was reminded of an ancient Naval commander. From a time when man sailed the deep oceans of Earth with nothing more than the power of the winds. He stepped around the holo-tank stomped on the command console of his flight deck calling out. “Comms pass this to all ships, all decks, all vid screens. Full audio and visual if you please.”

“Aye, Captain!” The Communication Officer called back carrying out his orders. He didn’t know what his Captain was up to, but he didn’t care. “Broadcasting now!”

“My countrymen there comes a time in every sailor’s life when they must make a choice. Stay safe on dry land or reach for greatest among the seas. We have reached such a point in our lifetimes.” The Captain reached down to draw the ceremonial sword at his hip. “A great Captain once said ‘Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!’ There before us lays the greatest thorn in our nation’s side. It is time, NO! It is past time for that thorn to be pulled. All ships attack!”

With those last three words given not by the leader of the Gorgonzola Empire or the War Admiral for the Expeditionary Force. A war was set in motion that would forever change the face of human controlled space. A war that was put on hold before the current Human Empire Emperor was even born. War on a scale not seen sense the time of the Great Shattering more than a thousand years in the past. Even as the first orbital bombs fell on Apollo 6 unseen forces were moving.

Goulcrest The City of Ebony, Apollo 6, Highlands System: 0545 local time
House of Parliament, Government Center

Grayson Vanderbilt was woken from his slumber by the pounding on the door to his bedroom. “Whoever or whatever this is about better be fracking important. Because if it is not then I’ll kill whoever in on the other side of that door.”

“Sir, please Lord Vanderbilt, wake up!” Grayson’s butler called out. “Please sir. The Cheeseheads have arrived in system with a massive fleet.”

That got Grayson full attention. He grabbed his robe and threw it on. Opening the door to his bedroom Grayson ordered the man inside. “Get in here and tell my exactly what has happened Markus.”

“Yes sir. At exactly zero-four-fifty this morning our early warning satellites picked up jump points forming all around the ring point. At last count, the enemy fleet numbered close to one-fifty and climbing with one battle platform. There is the equivalent of a full Death Dealer battlegroup overhead. At zero-five-fifteen members of the Apollo Liberation Front attacked the orbital defense satellites from inside. Satellites five, through eight, and eleven through thirteen are all offline. There are reports of assault class dropships moving into position as we speak to deliver what could only be Jump Infantry. Their carriers are moving into position to attack the remaining satellites. Reports of battleships taking up positions for orbital bombardment of our cities are also coming in.” Markus answered honestly.

That was all Grayson needed to hear. “Markus please make a pot of coffee for me. Along with three eggs, a six slices of bacon, hash browns, and two slices of toast. I’ll dress myself this morning and be down in a few moments.”

“At once sir. Should I setup the vidphone for you at the table?” Markus asked.

“Please. I believe we still have time before the Cheeseheads get all of their forces into position to cause problems.” Grayson told the man with a straight face. Once he was alone Grayson opened a hidden panel in his bedroom closet. Behind the false wood panel sat a military grade telecom system. He grabbed the receiver then entered a frequency code. When the other end was answered he only spoke one phrase. “Howl with the Wolves.” He repeated this five more times.

He quickly dressed as if going to the office. Before he closed the panel, he entered one last code into the system then hit send. As he headed downstairs the sun was just raising in the east. He checked his watch as he entered the kitchenet. It was 0624 local time. He would have just enough time to sit down and have his first sip of coffee before his three surprises were delivered. They had cost him a small fortune by in his mind money well spent. Reaching over Grayson grabbed the remote for the viewer and turn it on tuning into the local news cast.

As the bobblehead beach blonde bimbo nattered about the unseasonably cold weather in the northern regions Grayson check his watch for a second time. It was just now 0629. He never took his eyes of the second hand as it slowly swept around the face towards twelve. As the last few seconds ticked off and the hands moved to 0630 three thunderous roars were heard off in the distance. Grayson smiled to himself as he took another sip of his coffee, then started cutting up his eggs. His butler knew not to comment on the blasts as his employer enjoyed his breakfast. He looked down at his watch one last time as the hands ticked 0635. Just as he expected the bimbo was handed a printout as a news flash scrolled across the bottom.

“This just in. Simultaneousness explosions have occurred at the following places. The Ministry of Defense, House of Parliament, and the Planetary Defense Force Headquarters. Reports of open rebellion on six of the orbital defense satellites are also arriving. Along with reports of a massive Gorgonzola battle fleet.” Her announcement was cut off by a blinding light, then turned to a static filled square.

The flash drew Grayson’s attention towards the north where the broadcast towers sat for all the local stations. There before his eyes was the tattletale sign of a nuclear explosion. The massive rolling mushroom cloud broiled in the distance. Grayson couldn’t help himself. “A Special Atomic Demolition Munition warhead, no more than ten-tons nominal yield. Most likely a Bravo-fifty-four, man-pack unit. More than enough to clear out the towers and flood the airwaves with radiation.”

“Excuse me sir, but weren’t those types of weapons band by the Great Nuclear Treaty of twenty-forty-four Anno Domini pre-exodus?” Markus asked of him.

“Yet we still have them and use them at every chance we get for terrorist style attacks like this one. The construction of those weapons ma have been band but not the knowledge of their construction.” Grayson said as he took a few bites of his eggs. After washing them down with coffee, Grayson looked towards a second mushroom cloud of death and destruction that suddenly appeared around where the Government Center should be in the distance. “Markus, I have a feeling that we will have a good number of guests today. Are there any other political households this far out?”

“There is only one exception sir. Your home is the furthest home from the Center. All other Ministers, Lords, and Parliamentary members are either closer to or actually in the city. Only Minister Hall’s residence is further out. If you can call that ramshackle hovel of a residence. It is more like a squatter’s farm.” Markus sniffed with real arrogance.

“I have to agree with you Markus.” Grayson looked one more time towards the two mushroom clouds. “Markus it appears that despite all of our efforts to curtail their revolutionary activities and maintain the peace. The Revolutionary Extremist Union, Free Citizens Union, and those thugs in the World Community Party have finally gone over the edge into full blown insurrection.”

“It would appear that way, sir. Though I do have to wonder at the timing.” Markus commented thinking about the attacks and the incoming invasion force.

“If I had to wager Markus. This is a fully coordinated effort with our enemies the Gorgonzola Empire. Those three factions are well known to our enemies. Just be thankful they have not gotten their hooks into those paramilitary thugs within the Monarchist League Army. Can you image what those thugs would do with military grade weapons at their disposal. Why they would attack the PDF and Death Dealer High Commands at first light.” Which was exactly what Grayson was hoping they were doing at that very moment. After all he was the one who supplied the weapons for them to begin with in the first place.

Hell, Grayson was the one to provide weapons to all four groups. Including the 24 B-54 man-pack tactical nuclear weapons. So far only the two had been used the way that he had ordered. One to kill access to those leftist overly liberal newshounds. The other to force the Parliament, Hall of Lords, and the Planetary Governor to flee the city and the Government Center. There was only one way for that many Government Officials to travel as a group. Grayson looked to his watch one last time. If his calculations were correct, then the Emergency maglev train should be pulling out of the high security station in ten-minutes. If everything went according to plan, then the last obstacle to his grab for power would fall to a terrorist attack destroying eight of the twenty-seven-miles of maglev track. Taking the train and all of its passengers to a fiery death.

The only question yet to be answered yet concerned the Death Dealers. He still need to know how the attack went down on those five installations. The most worrying of them was Camp Wreckage. It was the base where the Death Dealer APS Regiment was stationed. Though Camp Rampage, home for the 12th Airborne Ranger Battalion, and Headquarters of the 43rd Airborne Border Division posed just as much a threat in the long run. Those two bases had to be destroyed above all else during the first hours of the attack. If not, then the Death Dealers could move into the backcountry with extreme ease. From there it would not be long before they mounted their counter attacks. The planet of New Texas had proven this point to him. With just one division of Airborne Troops and a few aerospace fighters the Death Dears had pushed the Amazons back. Then hold them at bay until reinforcements arrived.

His spies had sent the exact locals of every barracks, command building, supply warehouse, fuel farm, ammo depot, truck park, tank motorpol, to the Cheeseheads. Those places were supposed to be hit with orbital bombardment during the first hour of the attack. What he couldn’t figure out was how come the diversionary attacks happened before he gave the signal. These were his people and half of them attacked a head of schedule by more than four hours. Other than the jumped forward time frame everything was still going to plan. A plan he had devised himself.

As he contemplated the problem eating his breakfast Grayson realized he wouldn’t have the answers until after the war. Then out of nowhere the two men were thrown to the floor by a sudden concussive blast of overpressure that destroyed the windows on the eastern side of the house. As Marcus struggled to his feet he hissed out between clenched teeth. “Bloody hell! What the frack was that?”

“Those were most likely the main guns for their fleet’s battle platform the Blazing Heart. An orbital bombardment strike. The last time I checked not something to be directly on the receiving end of.” Grayson said as he stood up completely. Then looked towards the south. “Though I can’t for the life of me think of what’s to the south of us that is a high value target. One that would rate an orbital bombardment.”

“Um… sir isn’t the Cornside Reservoir and hydro-powerplant to the south of us?” Markus asked. The moment Markus mentioned the hydro-powerplant Grayson turned white.

“My god! That powerplant supplies all the power for our ground based heavy laser defense towers.” Grayson said as he realized the full extent of the lost of that powerplant. Then he remembered the other impact that loss would cause. In a voice barely above a whisper. “The ground-to-orbit missile defense systems.”

“What of the ground-based-orbital defense artillery units sir?” Markus asked. Grayson had totally forgotten about the high-powered railguns and Calliope laser systems. If the Cheeseheads had targeted Cornside already for orbital bombardment how many more of his powerplants were they going to destroy. As if to answer his question the lights in his home went flickered then went dark completely. “Sir I thought we were on the Terminus Physics powerplant?”

“We are on the Terminus, Markus.” Grayson snarled. “A civilian power plant. Why are they targeting the civilian powerplants?”

“Are you sure they have targeted the civil powerplants, sir?” Markus asked. “Is there anyway to verify the attacks?”

The answer to the butler’s question came not from Grayson but the thunderous screeching of highspeed kinetic kill rounds slamming into the ground far to the east. This was followed by an upheaval in the vary foundations of the house. At first this didn’t worry Grayson until it happened six more times. Each time the impacts were closer and closer. “By the gods! They’re targeting the maglev rail.”

Then it happened. An atomic blast. Only this one was not one of the man-pack units he had secured for the Monarchist League Army. It was much, much heavier. It had to be a SADM B-108 Mark II. The much bigger brother as far as atomic yield went to the B-54. The main deference between the two weapons was they’re actual physical size. The B-54 weighted just under 60lbs. while the B-108 Mark II’s weight was closer 75lbs. The changed in weight was a resalt to the changes in atomic material and explosive detonators. The B-108 used Thuylium to create the thermonuclear reaction and Hand-axe plastic explosives to detonate. Both were half the wight of their counterparts in the B-54 yet produced twice the power. The heat from the blast finally reached the two men. They quickly did the calculations in their heads for the flash to burn. Both came up with the same conclusion.

“THAT WAS TOO DAMNED CLOSE!” They both shouted at the same time. With real urgency the two men scrambled to reach the manor’s underground bunker. Grayson’s wife came stumbling down the first-floor hallway still in her normal morning drugged haze.

“What the frack is going on, Grayson?” She called out just before a heavy chandler crashed down on her from over twenty feet. The woman was killed instantly.

“At least there is one good thing to come out of this mess this morning.” Grayson grunted as he worked the codes on the bunker door. “From how long it took her to react to this morning’s happenings Markus. My wife spent her night in a drugged fuel daze.”

“If I my speak freely, sir.” Markus asked as he glared at the cooling body of his boss’s former wife. Grayson just nodded. “The bitch snorted enough Snowflake dust to put down a full-grown Tundra-Scorpion. I’m surprised that she even woke after the Bravo-one-oh-eight off.”

“It might have been kinder if she hadn’t Markus. Before we head down. Is there anyone you want to bring down with us?” Grayson asked of the older man. Unlike his butler, Grayson knew that the attack was no longer following the scripted battleplan.

“No sir. My wife died years ago. My son and his family are in Blackwater port. My daughter is in school over in Dornwich. It’s just me.” Markus told him honestly.

“Well, old man. It’ll soon be you, me, and however many members of the Governing body can reach my manor.” Grayson told him just as honestly. “The problem is going to be how many can get out of the city.”

“Shouldn’t that be all of them sir?” Markus asked.

“Sadly, no. Of the one-hundred-and-thirty-two members of our Government only fifteen of them commute to work. The rest of them have apartments within the Government Central compound. The fifteen of us that commute to work from the outskirts of Goulcrest all have last stand bunkers. Of them all only mine can hold the entire Parliament, House of Lords, Hall of Judges, Lieutenant Governor, and Governor. The problem lies in transporting those one-thirty-two out here.” Grayson said as he worked the door to the stairs.

As the two men headed down the stairs Markus left the door open for the rest of the staff to find. He didn’t know what his boss had planned but he wasn’t going to let the rest of the staff just die for a lost cause. As they descended to the lowest reaches of the manor Markus found something he never knew was there, a highspeed maglev station. “Bloody hell! Where did this come from?”

“It was built during my great uncle’s time as a member of the Lords. Long before either you or I were born. Time to check on the maglev’s progress.” Grayson said as he stepped over to a control console. After entering an override code. The control console slowly came to life as emergency generators came online to feed it and the stations power. “Damn. I had hoped to never use this place.”

“Excuse me, sir. I would have thought that the use of this place would have insured your rise to the Governor’s Mansion.” Markus said without thought.

“I would love for that to be the case Markus. The problem with that belief is our planet and the Highwinds System would have to come under direct attack.” Grayson told his butler as his dream plans went to the wayside. All of them gone in a matter of seconds as the Gorgonzola Assault Fleet attacked Apollo 6. The orbital bombardments made sure of that as they destroyed damns, powerplants, and other vital planetary infrastructures. All off his plans had gone wrong.

Once the emergency generators and the console was online his satellite uplink engaged. “Damn it’s worse than I figured. Only our three nuclear powerplants are still online in the Southern hemisphere. Both of the Northern continents are in the dark. Only our defensive installations on the Southern continent are still able to fight. That won't be for long though. Not with the way the Cheeseheads are pounding shit from orbit. Shit. Our orbital satellite defense platforms have either surrendered or been blasted out of orbit. We also won’t be receiving any guests form the city. That orbital bombardment just before we came down here. It destroyed the whole maglev rail-line between here and the Government Center.”

“What of the Comms Stations sir?” Markus asked with some worry.

“Gone. Here look at the screen. That is thermonuclear fissure. Over here just to the West of us is where that second nuke went off. The one that damned near brought the house down around our ears. See the size deference? The one to the West had to be a Bravo-one-oh-eight SADM backpack unit.” Grayson sighed.

“Sir I know that you have always dreamt of raising to the rank of Governor.” Markus said with real concern and disgust. “Was any part of this attack in your designs?”

“No. When it comes to the Cheeseheads I have as much hate for them as the common man in the street. Yes, I have plans to reach the top. Would I betray the people of Apollo six to do that? No.” Grayson lied to his butler as easy as he did on the Parliament floor debating a worthless bill. In all his time here on Apollo 6, Grayson had been able to keep his ties to the REU, FCU, WCP, and MLA, a secret from his household staff. He was even able to keep his secrets from his dead wife. “Our major problem though is not those ships overhead. It’s the assault class dropships headed our way, Markus. If the forty-third Airborne Border Division don’t get their shit together soon. Then our only hope will be the meanest bunch of rowdy citizens in all of the Empire. We can only pray that somewhere amongst our citizens stands another great hero of the Empire. One that will rival James J. Owens.”

Assault Dropship Huntress Star, Apollo 6, Highlands system
Landing Zone Alpha 2, 25miles south of Camp Wreckage

Division Commander, Green Star General, Zorn Diageo watched from the side of the boarding ramp as his division was the first to offload. The Huntress Star had deployed their Jump Infantry while still in high orbit over their drop zone. His counterpart Green Star General Yohan Mears stood waiting patiently beside him. The two men knew that the Light Wheel division had to be deployed before the Heavy Armor Division. The only other officer watching the rapidly deploying troops was Flag Colonel Colombo Vanni of the 18th APS Cavalry Regiment, The Defiant Corsairs.

“Tell me Yohan, do you think we’ll finally take this gods forsaken planet and the system it controls?” Zorn asked as a VTR-19 rolled by.

“You want the truth, Zorn? I’ll give you truth. If we do not kill every last one of the Devil’s Bastards in the next four hours. Then no matter what Vanni, and his fellow APS pilots will be nothing more than footnotes.” Yohan told his fellow General honestly as he lite up a cigar. “Because if there is one thing, I know to be true. Death Dealer APS pilots are unlike anything else we shall face. I am not too worried about reports of their being some new aerospace fighter built only for Claymore Death Dealers. One or two new fighter aircraft will not change the course of this war. We know the truth. Artillery hammer the enemy, APS unit break through, tanks and IFVs in sure further gains, Infantry secure territory. Air and Naval powers have their place, but they cannot take or hold territorial gains.”

“You know that Yohan. I know that. Even our War Admiral knows that. What I want to know is why haven’t the Death Dealer APS units attacked us already? I didn’t see any signs of bombing as we came in.” Zorn confessed.

“I believe that it had something to do with our ‘allies’ within the local militia. Our scientists gave them a new form of gas to try out. That camp is a perfect test subject in that valley. What with its high ridgelines, wide floor, and steady winds from only one direction. Our ‘allies’ could release canisters of gas one at a time. Until they reach the needed amount for saturation.” Yohan explained.

“How lethal is the new gas?” Zorn asked with worry for his own soldiers. He knew that the Gorgonzola Empire had a policy of using such tactics to put down uprisings within their borders. If they were using them to secure areas within the Hibernating Expanse and word got out. It could have a backlash effect on his nation.

“At full saturation one-hundred-percent lethality. The problem is it cannot be delivered by artillery or airdropped bombs. The only way to gain full saturation is through steady release over a period of time by use of fog or smoke generators. If we use artillery or airdrop bombs the explosions spread the gas over too far of an area before saturation can be reached.” Yohan said with a deeply disturbing chuckle. “But even at low saturation levels it is enough to incapacitate the enemy.”

“How long before it is safe to cross into the effected areas?” Zorn asked with real worry for his soldiers now.

“That is the other good news. Without a contentious supply of fresh gas, the lethality levels fall off at a remarkable rate. Within two hours after the last of the gas release has stopped you could walk naked through the affected areas.” Yohan said with a grin. “Though I won’t try it without further testing.”

“I think we’ll let our ‘allies’ handle that problem for us. In fact, I know just the ‘ally’ to handle the task.” Zorn snarled. Of all the weapons on the modern battlefield there were only three that truly terrified soldiers.

Nuclear bombs and missiles. Weaponized diseases or biological weapons. Yet both of these weapons of mass terror and destruct failed to bring the level of fear for the last weapons. Chemical weapons. Unlike nuclear weapons where you needed heavy duty industry to produce the needed materials chemical weapons can be made from simple household cleaning products. It took a professional lab plus degrees in bioengineering to make biological weapons. A high school chemistry lab ten-minutes of mixing the right chemicals into a solution and presto you have a teargas strong enough to incapacitate a regiment. Zorn knew exactly how long it took to manufacture each of the three major types of chemical agents.

Harassing agents 10 minutes, incapacitating agents 25 minutes, and any of the big three lethal like nerve, blister, and choking agents no more than 45 minutes. Pump them into a few 55gl drums, slap a C4 charge on the side. Then boom! One cheap ass WMD. There was a reason chemical warfare weapons were called the poor nation’s nuclear deterrent in the mid-to-late 20th century. Chemicals were easy to come by. The method to turn them into weapons just as easy. The methods to deliver them as numerous as they were make. Number of casualties to each weapon disproportional.

“When we get moving and we don’t see any sgins of the Death Dealer APS unit, sir. I’ll hunt him down myself and hand the slug over.” Colombo said as he walked over to the two generals. “Amateurs have no business in a war between professionals.”

“I am surprised to hear you say something like that Colonel Vanni. I would have thought that you would welcome any type of weapon that allows your men to take their objective easier?” Zorn asked in surprise. Then Zorn remember who the men who piloted Armored Power Suits were trained, especially the officers. They were his nation’s Cavaliers of the modern age. When their APS Pilots graduated from training, they called it ‘earning their spurs’. For both Zorn and Yohan this attitude of gifting special status to unbloodied troops detrimental to their overall society.

“There is taking advantage of a tactical or strategic weakness for a surprise attack General. Then there is attacking soldiers who cannot defend themselves in their sleep with a chemical weapon. That is no better than using the tactics of terrorists or a coward.” Colombo snarled. “At least the Death Dealers stop short of using chemical or biological weapons. They will fight using everything at their command to include nuclear weapons when forced. But never those. They deserve our respect and full measure of professionalism.”

The sounds of massive footfalls drew the young Colonel’s attention. He turned to see the first of his Scout class APS units moving to exit the dropship. “Excuse sirs, but I need to pass on instructions to those pilots.”

As the young Cavalry Flag Colonel walked away both Generals sighed. Yohan turned to Zorn. “I fear that we will have problems controlling that one and his men.”

“Flag Colonel Vanni is a pragmatist, Yohan. It does not matter what tactics we use. Our only mission is to regain control of the Maroon Earth for our Empire. Colombo Vanni realizes this and knows the ugly truth behind our use of the revolutionists. We may not like using the local revolutionists to achieve our goals, but they are a necessary evil. When his men find those dead Death Dealer APS pilots. They will rampage across this planet filled with righteous indignation. We can blame all the atrocities on those revolutionary forces while claiming to be hunting them for committing those very war crimes. Without them we would have needed twice to three times the normal force to attack this planet.” Zorn then chuckled evilly. “Our Knights of the Empire will find that war is a filthy bloody business. A business whose spread sheet is printed in blood that only has three columns for final accounting. Wins, losses, and casualties.”

“Let us hope not, Zorn. Because the day that our Knights realize this will be a dark day for our people. The citizens of our Empire relay on the belief that our APS pilots are the newest bastion of Chivalry. Our citizens want them to be these undefeatable gods of battle. Not mere mortal men with emotions that can be fooled into committing acts of unthinkable horror.” Yohan warned his friend.

“Then let us hope that they can control themselves as the butcher’s bill is tallied by the revolutionist elements of this planet.” Zorn grunted as they watched the first of the Scout class APSs left the dropship. Then in a voice heard only by himself. “Because if they can’t then this will become one bloody mess after another.”

Black Skull Buccaneer, Corsair Class Smuggler, Apollo 6 jump point.

Blackjack stood looking at the view screen. Originally the cyborg had planned to send one of her subordinates with the information. All that changed when the first reports came in about the attacking Cheesehead fleet. Her XO, Copperhead overruled her. Instead of sending Fea’s Viper it was decided to send her instead. The rest of her sixteen-man team would fan out over the planet. Each with the same mission. Harass, and confuse, the attacking enemy at every chance they had, short make life for the Cheeseheads as difficult as possible. By attacking supply points, interrupting transit schedules, denying valuable intel, assassinating high priority targets like generals, freeing captured POWs. This was the secondary mission for all members of the Hand in the times of war.

A last-ditch act of defiance. Giving the enemy one final salute. Like all government agencies their'a also had a seal of insignia. Theirs was of a mouse holding a combat knife behind its back facing off against a great bird of prey on the attack. Members of the Emperor’s Hand may die in the course of their missions, but they will always take a good number of their enemies to hell with them.

Only Blackjack could detect the grinding of gears in her hands as she clenched her fists. She forced herself to relax her hands as the Captain of the Black Skull Buccaneer gave the final command to jump to hyperspace. “Helm bring us about. Engineering run up the engines. Nav set our course for the Shinigami Ryuk and the Royal Couple. COMS! HOST! THE! BLACK! FLAG!”

When the Captain yelled flag the Corsair class smuggler jumped into hyperspace. In its wake leaving behind a video signal of a black flag waving in the breeze. In the center of the flag a white circle with a black skull. The signal would have a far-reaching impact on the world of Apollo 6. In every port of call smugglers of every stripe would set aside their deference’s. Each crew would happily fly the Jolly-roger flags of pirates, buccaneers, privateers and corsairs alike until their world was once more free of the Cheeseheads.

Here under her feet was a true hidden weapon of the Human Empire’s Navy. The Corsair class pirate and smuggler dropships. Even the Imperial Navy used them in almost every function. They were light cargo carriers for smuggling, close combat air support for air assault units, spy vessels, and with very little modification, small fast attack craft in Naval combat that punched away above their weight class. During the war with the Amazon Collective 4 out of every 15 enemy Frigates, Cruisers, and Destroyers, both heavy and light, were killed by these deceptively nasty little ships. Even Admiral Danial Cosby of the Super Carrier Lady Dai Etsu was noted for saying during the opening days of the Amazon Revolt. “They may be the lightest and smallest ships in my fleet, but those Corsairs always fight way above their weight class. And they usually win.”

The Captain turned to his very unusual passenger. “Well ma’am, we made it out. We’ll be alongside the Ryuk in one-hundred-forty-one hours and thirty-nine minutes. I wish we could give you a faster transit ma’am.”

“Captain Turner of all my uncle’s captains. You were one of his most favored. When I came hunting for a smuggler, I was surprised to find you and your ship out here in the Highlands System.” Blackjack said with real feeling in her voice. “Though I am more than a little surprised to see that you haven’t upgraded to a Clipper.”

“Well, there is an old saying about fixing something. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This old gal may not be the prettiest gal there, but she can still turn the heads when it comes to getting the job done.” Captain Will Tuner snarked. He then turned serious. “Miss, I have to know why you would work for Nakatoma? What with what she did to your uncle and cousin?”

“My uncle and cousin broke their word with the Dowager Empress concerning the local High Families’ children on Hades. They paid the price for their foolish arrogance. As for me working for the Empire my reasons are my own. I am a one hundred percent hardbody cyborg, Captain. I may only have a brain left from my old human body, but I still have my soul. With that small amount I can and will regain the honor they threw away so carelessly in their greed.” Blackjack snarled. “The person I was is no more. All I have is my honor, my human soul, and a blood debt that must be paid.”

“When will that be Miss?” Captain Turner asked as the cyborg turned to leave his bridge. “When will your debt be paid?”

“When I can shut down for the night and not see the faces of those wronged by my family. Only then will I believe that the debt has been paid.” Blackjack said as she looked towards the star scape shown in the bridges viewer. “I think that will be in about one or two thousand years.”

With that Blackjack left the bridge. Captain William Turner faced his bridge crew. His Navigator was the first to say anything. “She may have the body of a female, but she still has the same mind.”

“Aye, captain. The little Miss could fool the rest of the crew but not us.” His Engineering officer told him bluntly.

“WE clocked her the moment she stood behind your console captain.” The Helmsman said not taking his eyes off his screens. “We’re pirates and smugglers. We know our own as surely as we know a tasty target.”

“We going to pass the word to the rest of the fleet Captain?” Communications and sensors officer asked as he spun his chair around to face Turner.

“Not right now, mates. The young lady has come a long way in the last thirty years, but she still has a ways to go.” Turner told his shipmates. With the downfall of the Longfellow crime family syndicate, he and the other smuggler captains had run their ships like the Pirates of the ancient Caribbean. “But I’ll cast a white ball for her. How cast your votes?”

Each ship was ran as an egalitarian society. This had a side effect of making for a more democratic way of run the ships. In the end through it was the Captain’s name on the registry and letters of mark. Both of which only the oldest child of each ship’s captain could inherit. With one very important exception their Admiral’s child, Peter Longfellow. “Besides, I don’t mind collecting the Crown’s coin for now. We let the others know Peter Longfellow is alive that will go away.”

“True that! They’ll be in open revolt the second they hear Peppermint Pete is out and free. I’m with the Captain on this guys.” The ship’s doctor said from her position over behind his console. “We drop the gal off with the Ryuk. Then we head back here and host our black flag.”

“It’s time for some Piracy!” The crew yelled out with real pride.

-----tbc-----