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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 14

Planet Hades, Death Gates System
Joan Eunice Smith School for Young Ladies, 1230 local time: day 30 of the war

“I’m going to strangle those three girls!” The scream of frustration that came from behind the closed office door for the Heads of the History Citizenship and Moral Conduct Department brought a chuckle from the two Hellhound Guards. One handed the other a ten-credit note. Once again they knew that the nieces of the Dowager Empress had gotten the better of their Aunt.

“Calm down Maiha. What did they do this time?” Alice asked with a heavy sigh.

“I give them a simple assignment. Ten pages on the impact of revolution in politics throughout history. They could have choose any revolution they wanted. I placed no restrictions on that condition. The only conditions I placed were page length that it should be in the Harvard-Anglia reference style with all footnotes and reference materials listed along with a table of contents.” Maiha sighed then threw the three papers on Alice’s desk. “And this is what they turn in.”

“The counter, counter, counterculture anti revolution of the twenty-first century. The Leftists Conspiracy of Conservative Repression in the early twenty-twenties. Extreme responses to Freedom of Speech through the use of censorship and propaganda.” Alice set two of the papers down and began to read. The paper started off in a serious tone but soon turned satirical in nature. It wasn’t long before Alice had to fight to hold in her laughter. Looking at the cover page Alice saw that this one written by her niece Wami. The youngest of the Nakatoma triple threat as they were called. “Okay love. I’ll give it to you. This is going a bit too far.”

“Damn the them. When will they take their studies serious.” Maiha snarled and drove her fist into the nearest wall. Without even thinking about the school rules Maiha pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lite one up. Alice would normally jump down Maiha’s throat over her smoking but let it go. Alice saw the signs in her lovely wife. The only outward sign of stress that Maiha ever showed though was smoking. For the last fifty days Maiha had gone through a pack a day. Alice sighed and held up the three satirical papers written by their nieces. “You know they did this as a way to make you laugh at something love.”

“I don’t care! I gave them an assignment as their teacher! They should be paying attention to their damned studies! Instead of trying to get me to laugh at their antics! In that classroom I’m their teacher! NOT THEIR AUNT!” Maiha scream and punched the wall again in frustration. “When will they see the see the deference?”

“They know the deference, love. Usually, they respect that deference. They also see and know something that our other students don’t. They look up at the front of the classroom and see the Dowager Empress. The living legend that is Maiha Nakatoma, First High Lady of the Death Dealers, Death’s Own Daughter. The second most feared Death Dealer to ever walk the battlefield right behind James J. Owens senior. A person that only a vary small few have matched in their accomplishments.” Alice sighed and hugged her wife. “They also see the one warrior in all the Empire that deserves to be on the front line sitting back doing nothing. Why haven’t you ignored our son’s order to sit this one out?”

“And just where would you have me go? With what troops? The James J. Owens and her Battlegroup are part of the advance on the Gorgonzola Empire. I can’t take Hades’ PDF and leave the planet defenseless. As powerful as the Hellhounds are they’re no match for an invasion and occupation force. We’re talking about taking on no less than ten heavy armored divisions, ten mixed divisions, and twenty light armor divisions. I won’t hit something like that unless I had a full Death Dealer Battlegroup under my command.” Maiha grunted as Dee De did the calculations.

“Do what you have always done in times like this. Improvise, adapt, overcome, and when that doesn’t work. Unleash the war dogs of hell.” Alice quirked.

“You still haven’t answered the one burning question. Where am I going to find the troops to retake a planet? I would need at least twenty-two divisions of a similar mix and the dropships to move them. Not to mention a Carrier Battlegroup to punch a hole through the blockade.” Maiha pointed glumly. “Love I need a Death Dealer Battlegroup at the minimum to retake Apollo six.”

“You don’t need a Death Dealer Battlegroup child.” Both women turned at the sound of their mother’s voice as she entered their office. “You only need troops loyal to House Nakatoma and a healthy bank account.”

“Okay mom what are you talking about?” Maiha asked in exasperation.

“Mercenaries, Maiha. How often had the High Families used them as security forces? What do you think would happen if you sent out word that you were gathering a military force to retake Apollo six?” Dai Etsu asked with a wicked smile.

“I don’t know. Maybe five or six Regiments would form up at most. Not enough to retake the planet. It would be futile gesture in defiance.” Maiha answered honestly.

Dai Etsu sighed as she glided across the floor to stand in front of the window. As she looked outward Dai Etsu slowly raise her hand pointing in the of Fiddler’s Green. “Do you really think that after such a short time. The mercenaries of the Human Empire have forgotten what you did for their fallen brothers on Hades?”

“What are you talking about mother? Mercenaries are not regular military troops.” Maiha figured that she was on firm ground.

“Have you ever heard the story of the Wild Geese and their last stand?” Dai Etsu asked Maiha with a sly smile. Dai Etsu knew full well that Maiha had heard of the famous mercenary unit from Earth’s ancient past. They went by many nicknames. The Lost Legion, the Last Battalion, the Devil’s Bastards, the Dogs of War, and so many more but they were all the same unit. Made of up professional soldiers looking to ply their trade in a world of harsh political realities.

“An easier question would be to ask who hasn’t heard of the Wild Geese and their last stand.” Maiha and Alice both chuckled at her answer.

“Call them child. Every last mercenary across our Empire will rise to your banner. Not your son’s, or mine, but yours. Yours and yours alone.” Dai Etsu explained as she turned away from the window. “Because you honor their dead along side the dead of Death Dealers. Fiddler’s Green is unlike any other Military Cemetery within the Empire. It honors all those who have given the full measure for our freedom.”

“I hate to say this Maiha, but mom is right. You let the mercs know that you’re gathering an army to retake Apollo six. For every one that can’t come six will. As for transport. There will be at least one Raider class dropship and one Cruiser or Destroyer class pirate ship for escort.” Alice pointed out before Dee De could give Maiha the numbers. “I won’t go into the sheer number of Corvette class pirate ships that will flood the area for a chance to kick the Cheeseheads in the nuts.”

The sounds of a QM62 Fortress Command Vehicle rolling to a stop in front of the school drew Maiha and Alice’s attention. “We have tarried long enough. It is time for this family to give our nephew a hand in this war. You’re not the only one who has access to a Military Force. I do believe that at last headcount the Mountain Wolves Regiment equaled two full Divisions.”

“What the hell? How did that happen? I’ve keep an eye on the troop levels for all our House Units. No way could the Mountain Wolves reach that level.” Maiha countered.

“Like you Maiha. I was careful and sneaky.” Dai Etsu snickered. “For the last three decades I have slowly built them into a PDF worthy of House Nakatoma and their Head of House. They may not be Death Dealers, but they’ll give as good as they get in a fight. Unlike you your son, you have more than one naval force to call on. The Howling Wolves of Hades stand by for our use.”

“Thank you Dai Etsu. I’ll head for the spaceport now. Do you mind covering my classes while I’m gone? I shouldn’t be more than six to seven months. Not with the way that James is steamrolling the Cheeseheads. I know that dropping the Core Crackers didn’t sit well with you, but it has led to the collapse of their Chain of command. The regular Cheesehead PDF troops are surrendering in mass.”

“WE will be headed for the spaceport, Maiha.” Dai Etsu ordered her oldest child as a knock sound on their office door. The door open to show Fuyuko, Nanami and Nanase. Behind them stood the imposing figure of Reverend Mother Katsumi. “Are the Wave Dancers load aboard the Morning Mist children?”

“Loaded and waiting our arrival mother. Snow Mountain Warrior was grumbling about being transported by Scalawag MRV. I think his words were somewhere along the line of being undignifiedly strapped down on his back like Gulliver.” Fuyuko giggled showing that in many ways there were times she was still a young woman despite being in her early forties. “I think he’s getting a little senile in his old age mother. I actually had to access the ancient archives to get the reference.”

“HOLD ON! Nobody said anything about you joining me in this stupid half-assed run to Apollo six.” Maiha started only to be stopped mid rant by a glare from Dai Etsu. After close to forty years Maiha the look her adoptive mother was giving her. With a deep bow from the waist. “Of course, mother. Shall we head for the port?”

After arranging for their Royal Bodyguards to cover their classes the Dowager couple head for the spaceport. Within an hour of liftoff Maiha had sent out an FTL message to every mercenary unit within the Human Empire. It was a simple offer of employee that most intelligent individuals would turn down.

Seeking adventure? Used to watch your friends die in new and interesting ways? What travel to far flung distant planets, willing to meet new exotic people and kill them? Then join Empress Maiha Nakatoma in her bid to retake the Highlands system from the Cheeseheads. Spend your days and nights in combat and unfathomable danger. All for truly low pay and shitty food. If you should return alive you’ll receive honor and glory. Good luck and may the Goddess guide you.

Oort Cloud, Outer edge Highlands System. Day 37 of the war.
Command deck Morning Mist

Captain Toju Saza looked out the forward viewscreen of his command deck in amazement. Gathered there before his eyes were over 120 ships. A quarter of them were Raider class dropships. Each holding at least one full mercenary Regiment. The greatest contingent belonging to the Mountain Wolves. He could only shack his head in wonder.

“By the Gods of War! Only Death’s own Daughter could make a smart-ass joke of gruesomely dying in battle and have half the current mercenary Regiments in the Empire come running. All more than willing to lay down their lives for her.” The dropship Captain chuckled as his XO turned to him. “You sent the message Number One. Did you really expect to see this many mercenary regiments?”

“Well, no actually. At best I expected us to be the only fools to answer Empress Maiha’s call to arms. I mean she is known for taking on impossible no-win situations. Usually with unpredictable results. For the enemy.” The XO snarked as he waved the text for the message her had sent just a few days earlier. “But not even you could have expected this type of reaction!”

“Aye you do have a point. Then again the woman is known for her twisted mind and turn of phrase. We have honor to uphold.” Captain Saza looked out at the gather mercenary dropships. “They have coin purses.”

“Very deep coin purses Captain.” His XO chuckled as he thought about the cost of operating a Raider class dropship. Then the XO looked at the listing for the pirate ships. It was a mixed bag of warships. With 10 Kirov class Cruisers, as their heavy hitters. Just below them were the 15 Arleigh Burke class Destroyers. The rest of the attack fleet was made up of Corvette and small Corsair class ships. Even with the addition of those 65 ships the attacking fleet would be outnumber by two to one. With no way of evening the odds. Then again their only mission was to punch a hole through the blockade. Not destroy it. That would be left to the First Death Dealer Battlegroup. Which everyone knew was on its way to Apollo 6. “Sir, do you think the Emperor and Empress will arrive to save his mothers and aunts?”

“Of all the things in this universe that can be counted to come Empress Maiha’s aid. It’s that bloody nightmare monster from another time. The Royal Battle Platform Ryuk will destroy the stars to reach her. That Cheesehead fleet out there is on borrowed time. When Ryuk and the Midnight Fleet arrive, they’ll smash that blockade to ashes while the unholy hordes of their Ground Combat Divisions rampage across that planet.” Captain Saza chuckled evilly.

As if summon by his words Maiha entered the bridge. “Is all in readiness Captain?”

“All ships have been given their orders Empress. The destroyers and cruisers will target that Cheesehead battle platform. While the corvettes, and corsairs will occupy their carriers, and battleships. I know that we’re sending rabbits to fight wolves, but it is all we have your Majesty.” Captain Saza sighed wishing that he had at least one battleship to take on the Cheesehead battle platform.

“Fear not, Captain. By the time we reach the inner solar system. More well arrive to my daughter’s call to arms. The Pirates of the Golden Corridor have earned their deadly reputations. I have a feeling that one captain and his crew will join us by the time we reach the seventh planet.” Dai Etsu told him as she entered the bridge deck. “When they do. I doubt even that Gorgonzola Battle Platform will stay.”

“The only things those monsters fear Lady Dai Etsu. Are Shinigami Battle Platforms, Texas or Hero Class Battleships, and our Supercarriers. Well, I take that back. There’s one group of pirate ships they fear above all.” Captain Saza told her as her turned to face the forward viewscreen of his flight deck. “Thank the Goddess that man and his ship left our star ways many years ago. If they show up for this battle. The Cheeseheads won’t be the only ones looking for the nearest jump point out of this system.”

“And should his daughter and her ship join him?” Dai Etsu asked wickedly.

“I won’t need to find a jump point.” Captain Saza grunted coarsely. “Because my ass will be forming one as we speak.”

“Then I let us hope your crew are braver than their captain.” Maiha snarked.

“Doubt that Empress. There’s good reason to fear that Captain, his daughter, and their ships. The daughter is bad enough in a fight. Throw in her father. Well, all bets are off and there is no telling who he’ll turn his guns on.” Captain Saza grunted honestly. “With the exception of his daughter.”

“Then the Kurihara family are still raising hell among the stars?” Dai Etsu asked.

“Right behind the Kato family. Pray that Blaster Ririka doesn’t show up with them. On either of their ships. That woman would throw a cat into a show just to see what insanity it would cause.” The XO groaned as he thought about the first family of Space Pirates in this sector of Human Space. “I don’t know who has the bigger loose screw in that family. The father, the mother, or their daughter.”

“Be that as they may be Number One. Still let’s just hope that they do. Because we’ll need their firepower before this Empyreal visit is over.” Captain Saza grunted looking out at their meager fleet. “Send the signal.”

“Captain you and your people will be compensated.” Maiha told him with sadness in her voice. “I fear that not all of them will return.”

“It’s their choice. That is the power of a pirate, Empress.” The XO chuckled with pride. “All the pirates in this part of the Empire have Letters of Marque. Most of the time they act as fast heavy armed merchantmen, exploration ships, fast curriers for diplomats. They take the spacefaring jobs that require a little extra firepower and speed to that regular merchantmen lack to get the job done.”

“And so, the legal space pirate was born. It is a sad commentary on our Nation that we must employ such measures to ensure the safety of merchantmen.” Maiha sighed. “If only the Hall of Lords, and Parliament would allow a larger military budget.”

“Throughout history nations have employed mercenaries your Majesty. Part of that has been the use of Legal Pirates to secure shipping lanes. Armed and armored ships disguised as ordinary merchant vessels.” The XO said with pride as he turned to face the Dowager Empress. “Pirates holding a Letter of Marque are a long noble tradition. Regular Navies throughout history have relied on them to bolster their forces in times of war and to act as security forces in times of peace.”

“They don’t have to be out there, Empress. They’re out there exercising their rights as legal pirates. Jut as they have been from the first day of this war.” Captain Saza explained as they all looked out toward the gathered fleet of pirate ships. “Until now they’ve been making hit and runs. Today they’ll be ramming a fist down the throats of the Cheeseheads.”

“I do have a question to ask sir. Why have you assembled the fleet this far out in the Highlands system?” Dai Etsu asked him.

“Three reasons Lady Dai Etsu. First to give the rest of the Golden Corridor pirates to gather. Second a slow approach will give us an element of surprise. They’ll believe that we’re just another meteorite cloud moving across the system. Lastly to allow His Majesty, Emperor James to answer his mother’s call.” He chuckled at the cross look he got from Maiha. “You’ll have to forgive me Empress, but if you think I’m going to keep this from your son and his wife. You’ve lost your mind.”

“Sir, incoming message from Apollo six. It’s in a code I’ve never seen before.” The Communications Officer called out.

“Bring it here, Mister Webb.” Captain Saza ordered. Once he had the message in his hand Saza frowned. “Damn. It’s one of those Intelligence codes the pirates have been picking up for the last month. Pass it onto the Ministry, Mister Webb.”

“Let me see that Captain.” Maiha ordered. Not knowing what else to do Saza handed it over. Maiha took one look at the message, and she knew who had sent it. When she started to laugh everyone on the bridge crew looked to the Dowager Empress in confusion. “There are times when old friends can be both entertaining and frustrating at the same time. I suggest you contact the rest of the fleet captain. It seems that the gangs of Goulcrest are throwing a party for the Cheeseheads. A party that I plan on crashing.”

Overlooking Red Route 5, Deerfield Forest, Apollo 6

Scout Troop 872 were spread out along the upper ridgeline of what Spector was calling Red Route 5. To them it was Casey Road and the main supply route for the Brownshirts in Drogdalk. The county seat for Deerfield county. Their target was the early morning convoy from Goulcrest. Tammera had done everything her mentor Spector had trained her to do. Her whole Scout Troop had busted their collective asses over the last few weeks. This was their first time operating on their own without adult supervision. they wanted to do their mentor Spector proud. Most especially Tammera.

“Artemis this is Huntress. Over”

“Go for Artemis, Huntress. Over” Tammera answered over the tactical helmet’s radio.

“We have nine Hotel-Tango-Victor-nine-nine-sevens in bound. Have four, I say again, four, Lemma-Foxtrot-Alpha-Victor-two-two-nine in escort. This is not our target. I say again, Artemis, not our target. Huntress, Out.”

Tammera turned to Joy McIntosh. “We got a problem Joy. It that’s not our convoy. Then where the frack is our target?”

“Late or not coming. We’re not sit up to take on four gun-trucks. Those FAV-two-two-nines carry enough firepower to level this tree line and us with it. Pass the word we’re pulling out.” Tammera ordered as she set her rifle against the rock she would have used to set of their ambush. “I’ll cover everyone’s retreat.”

“Are you sure about this Tammy?” Joy asked as she started to pull back. Only to drop down next to her pointing across the roadway. “Shit. Over there. That’s a TV-eleven ATV Guncarriage. They’re waiting for us move.”

“Shit! We’re screwed. They’ll drop enough rounds on this ridge to kill us all if we move. They’ll do it the second we set off the ambush. We’re damned if we don’t. We’re damned if we do.” Tammera shifted her sights to the TV-11 ATV Guncarriage. “If I’m going to die here today. I’m taking the gunner of that that beast with me.”

Then to her surprise the missile rack in back raised to a 60-degree angle then swiveled to the south. Both girls watched in horror as the four rows of missile tubes fired one after another. As the last of the 12inch rockets left its lunch tube the rack swiveled back to the forward position and lowered to the travel position. Then to their amazement the TV-11 spun on its tracks and disappeared into the woods on the other ridgeline. As it disappeared the sounds of impacting rockets could be heard. Both girls stood up slowly as did the rest of the Scout Troop. They all looked to where the rockets had fallen.

Tammera reached up and keyed her radio. “Huntress, come in Huntress. Did you observe the artillery impact? Over.”

“Affirmative Artemis. Twenty-four impacts on the inbound convoy. Heavy enemy casualties. All escorts destroyed or rendered inoperable. Five transports destroyed and burning. The rest are not long for this world, Artemis. Their crews are already abandoning them where they sit. The fires are starting to spread. From the looks of things. Whoever fired those rockets used a mixed load of two-to-one High Explosives to White Phosphorus. Over.”

“Copy that Huntress. Get your ass out of there and back to the troop. We’re pulling out once we’ve regrouped. Out.” Tammera turned to Joy. “Round everyone up Joy. This is mission is scrubbed. Spector needs to know about that TV-eleven-Thunderstorm.”

“Why? From what I can see they just save us a lot of heartburn.” Tim Horton asked as he and Randy Hill joined them.

“Did you see the age of that thing? It has to be at least twenty to thirty years old. The TV-eleven tracked ATV has been used since the time of the last Succession War. If someone is operating something like now it would explain a lot of the reports we’ve been picking up.” Tammera snapped. Then sighed at the blank look of her friends. “Guys, think about our lessons. What was the one thing that Spector and the other Black Saints kept going on and on about?”

“We can never know enough about the capabilities of the locals.” The gather Adventure Scouts intoned as one. Only to groan in pain. Randy looked at Tammera and asked. “What have we missed Tammy?”

“The only people who used those back then were the regular Empyreal Army Artillery Corps. All of those would have been stored in the Drogdalk or Sario PDF armories. Guys someone have to of survived the gas attacks on our homes.” Tammera pointed out for her friends smiling. The sad part is she knew she was lying to herself even as the words left her mouth. Joy placed her left hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Tammy, we all saw the bodies. No one survived the attacks. OUR parents are gone.” When Tammera went to argue Joy pulled her into a tight rib breaking hug. “DAMN IT! Don’t you think I dream of them still being alive every night. Think about.”

“Not too many people know how to operate a quarter of the vehicles in the Armories. If there was survivors they would have been part of the PDF. Which none of our parents were with one exception Joey King.” Tammera answered fighting back the tears that threatened to engulf her once again. “Can’t keep chasing dreams.”

“Come one let’s get back to base and report this to Spector.” Joy told her friend. The gathered scouts turned guerrilla fighters moved through the surrounding woods with a stealth that belied their youth. The Black Saints had made use of their skills used as Adventure Scouts and honed them to a razor’s edge. This small band of resistance fighters may be young, but they had become the most feared in the Deerfield area of the continent. They were trained solely by Spector.

While Ace organized the unions of Sario. The rest of the Black Saints went out of their way to win the hearts and minds of the other locals. They set up an improvised hospital. In the last few weeks, the Gorgonzola Occupation Forces knew nothing but fear and desperation. Nightly rocket attacks, hourly reports of new sniper attacks, men waking to find the heads of friends on pikes, bombings at roadside crossings, even the Brownshirts were targeted. The Black Saints had quickly earned a lot of respect among the locals of the area by put down Dale Winthrop. With the corrupt union boss dead and out of the way. More responsible leaders for the people of Sario came forward to led them in their revolt.

Yet it was this band of sixteen teenagers trained by the Death Dealer sniper that drew the greatest respect from the local adults. The Death Dealers were well respected and in many cases feared but this teens had been elevated among their number. The local adults were at first surprised then outraged at teenagers being put in charge of their training. That was until those teenagers started handing out life altering beatings. Any time an adult would bulk at do something in training one of the Black Knights would call on one of the teens. That always ended the problem quickly. Because unlike the adults that came to the resistance. The teenagers had no problems with following the orders of their mentors. It earned the Adventure Scouts a nickname among the citizens of Sario, the Night Children.

Grace Point, Eastern Rat Steppes

Iceman looked through the Marric K-71 Field glasses at the town in front of him. What he saw turned his stomach. “How bad is it boss?”

“Zero signs of life, Tigger. Another town has been gassed. If what I’m seeing is any indication no more that four or five hours ago. We’ll have to find a way around.” Iceman told her as he dropped back into their FAV. “Damn it. I want that chemical unit Tigger. This is the fifth town they’re destroyed in the last week.”

“We know that skipper. What we want to know is why these towns? It’s not like they’re randomly targeting them.” Tigger snarled and pounded on the steering wheel.

“I got a feeling it has to do with these five towns all being on the same road. This piece of concrete and asphalt runs nonstop between Goulcrest and Lineberry. It’s the only direct road between the two cities. There are twenty-three smaller cities and towns between them.” Iceman told her as he pulled out his map-case. With a steady hand he drew his finger along the road then sighed. “Each town that has been hit so far is at a crossroads or natural pinch point. The Cheeseheads are attempting to secure their supply routes.”

“It’s not going to do them any good Iceman. Sooner or later their supplies from their home worlds will dry up.” Tigger countered.

“Won’t matter if they starve out the locals Tigger. The bastards can live off the land for a lot longer than High Command believes.” Iceman explained honestly. “Those Brownshirt bastards are using this invasion to further their own ends.”

“With more than a few of them getting revenge for imagined slights.” Tigger grunted then spat out the open window. “I got no problems with killing as any of those traitorous cock bites as we can Iceman.”

“We have to deal with that chemical unit Tigger first. After that I’ll happily help you turn as many of them into body bag filling as we can.” Iceman snarled. At the snarl in her CO’s voice Tigger looked over at him.

“I’m not the one you need to worry about boss. The resistance leaders in Lineberry are talking about hammering the Brownshirt HQ with a missile strike.” Tigger then went on to tell him what she and the others had overheard. “Boss I know you don’t want to hear this but we’re losing control over the resistance leaders. That asshole Vanderbilt has been supplying them with arms and munitions.”

“There are a few things about that man I want to know more than anything else. First I want to know is where is he getting those arms and munitions. Second how is he getting them into the hands of the resistance. Third what is his long-term goal in all this. Lastly why isn’t he helping the resistance in his home district.” Through their connections with the Lineberry resistance Iceman had learned that Grayson Vanderbilt was their main supplier of arms.

“Damn if know the answers Boss. For now, I just want to survive the rest of this war in one piece.” Tigger chuckled then grinned. “That and solve the mystery behind who’s the Whitechapel Ripper? I got a c-note on it being Gunner.”

“I know you do.” Iceman grinned as he patted hi right breast pocket of his uniform. “Between the team and the locals, the pot is just short of two-grand. Most of it on some local gangbanger from Goulcrest. Though I’m inclined to believe their assumptions. Everything points to Robert Wolff being this Ripper guy.”

“Especially those sniper attacks. The only thing that doesn’t fit with his style was that attack on the spaceport. That was so something a Black Tiger from The Queen’s Second Commando Regiment would have pulled. An attack like that would have been just their style. Flashy, effective, and above all else insanely dangerous.” Tigger pointed out to Iceman. “Gunner is crazier than a shithouse rat, Iceman; but he’s not that crazy or stupid.”

“Fallen one, this is Fallen two. Come in Fallen one. Over” the radio crackled.

“We’ll pick this up later.” Iceman stand as he grabbed the radio’s mike and keyed the transmit button. “Go for Fallen one, Over.”

“Fallen one have sighted Charlie Echo Uniform at grid three-seven-five-four by five-one-three-three. In the open. Currently all personnel undergoing stages for full Decontamination, Level five. Smokers, and all transport vehicles undergoing same. Estimated time for full Decontamination four hours. Over.”

“Fallen-two how sure are you on that estimate? Over” Iceman asked as he found the grid coordinates that he had been given. The map showed an open field that sat northeast of Grace Point by four kilometers. “Tigger what do you make of this?”

“Fallen-one that is the best estimate I can give from my position. Currently ninety-degrees on the back azimuth off the stated grid point. Range is five-zero-zero-zero. Over” Rimfire answered for the second half of their small team.

“Hold your position and report in change in status, Fallen-two. Over” Iceman ordered the other team. When Rimfire answered back in the positive Iceman turned to Tigger. “Well Tigger I can see the wheels turning. What’re you thinking?”

“The heavy decontamination that unit is undergoing Boss. I got a feeling that they have to undergo decontamination between attacks.” Tigger told him as she pointed to the map. “Look at every place the Cheeseheads have used the gas.”

“Okay this is one of your areas of expertise Tigger. What am I missing?” Iceman was many things but an expert in Chemical Weapons wasn’t one of them.

“Of all the places they’ve used the gas. Only five times has it been one-hundred percent effective. Three times in a river valley, once in a mountain gap, and the box valley where Camp Rampage sat. Then there is the way the Cheeseheads are having to deploy the gas. They can’t use bombs, missiles, or artillery shells. They’re using smoke generators hard mounted on C-forty Pandora heavy track transports. Then there are the supply transports they’re using. R-W8X Curator Full Tracked Armored Personal Carriers. That is overkill for transporting any chemical, boss. Lastly they’re going through a Level Five decontamination less than ten klicks from where they released they’re last attack. All this is tell me the Cheeseheads barely have any control over the gas.” Tigger said as she studied the map. “Sir this whole route was laid down flowing the natural geography of the land.”

“Why does that sound like shitty intel to me?” Iceman asked Tigger.

“Because the second they attack Horehound the body count is going to jump. Because the gas isn’t going to stay where they disperse it. It’ll roll up the valley floor against the prevailing winds into Bentlymore. They’ll also have to deal with the crosswind from the intersecting valley.” Tigger pulled out a grease pencil and began to make marks on the plastic sheet map. She quickly drew arrows in the directions of the prevailing winds and then outlined the geographical features of the lining the road. “Iceman, if we’re going to take out that Chemical unit we have to do it in the next few hours.”

“Exactly how do you suggest we pull that off, Tigger? Rimfire and Snow are on the other side of the clearing. They’ll hear us the second we get within range of our FAST-V mounted weapons. If we try using just our Second-Generation weapons we’ll be well inside the range of the gas storage tanks. Not to mention having to cross an already contaminated area.” As Iceman pointed out the problems of attacking the enemy chemical unit in its current position Tigger chuckled. “What am I missing?”

Tigger smiled as she patted the two SEM-32 antitank laser guided missile, launchers and the two crates of SEM-28 Anti-tank Rage Fire laser guided missiles. “These little beauties can be fired from ten klicks out and still hit their target. They pack enough explosive punch to blow a hole in the side of those Curators and their holding tanks. We only need one launcher to target the Curators. Rimfire and Snow can handle that without a problem.”

Tigger grinned up evilly at her CO. “We let the gas handle the Cheeseheads.”

“Let them die by their own weapon.” Iceman returned the evil grin. “Break ’em out Tigger. I’ll contact Rimfire and Snow. We’ll drop eight of these babies on that unit before they know what hit them.”

Tigger just grinned as she exited the FAV. Within five minutes she had the first two antitank missiles set up for a long-range strike. Rimfire and Snow reported in that they were set and ready to engage on Iceman’s command. With a simple nod from her head Tigger let Iceman know she was ready. Iceman snarled evilly. “Fire.”

As he pulled the trigger to his SEM-32 sending his missile down range Tigger’s was right behind it. At the peak of the ballistic arch the two missiles engaged the laser homing warheads. Microseconds later they found their targets. Engaging their boosters, the two missiles joined their brothers in their suicidal destructive missions. Fifteen seconds following the launch of the first four missiles, four more joined them in their death spirals.

As Rimfire and Snow observed the impacts they reported back to Iceman the results. “Fallen-one this is Fallen-two. All missile impacted on target. Have secondary explosions and tertiary explosions. Area surrounding enemy unit is being quickly enveloped in think smoke. Personnel in the open are showing signs of chemical weapons attack. Simptoms are convolutions, vomiting.”

Tigger hit the override on the radio. “GET OUT OF THERE NOW RIMFIRE! HAUL ASS! DON’T LOOK BACK UNTIL YOU REGROUP WITH US!”

“Copy that Tigger! Un-assing the AO now! Fallen-two out!”

Iceman looked over at the suddenly white and suddenly shacking Tigger. “What kind of gas did we just release Tigger?”

“A four-way threat. That shit out there is a combination of a choking, blister, blood, and nerve agents. Anyone of which on their own is deadly but when you start combining them. They get deadlier with each new combination. If what Betty is telling me is even halfway correct that shit is more than twenty-times deadlier than anything on the books.” When Tigger couldn’t hold it in any longer she turned away and emptied her stomach contents on the ground. By the time Rimfire and Snow regrouped with the two. The found their CO holding the still sick Tigger kneeling on the ground. They knew that Tigger was no weakling. Whatever had driven her to this point had to deal with the Chemical Unit they had just destroyed.

When Tigger finally pulled herself together she turned to the team. “Guys, we need to go the long way around. By about fifty miles.”

“Damn! Just what the frack is that stuff?” Snow asked in shock.

“It’s a combination of the worst choking, blister, blood, and nerve agents. Each one deadlier than the last. When mixed together their potency just increases. Even back in school nothing they showed us comes close to matching that shit out there. The only thing I can think to compare it to is a Pandora’s box.” Tigger told them as she grabbed her canteen and washed out her mouth with cool water.

“What’s that supposed to mean Tigger? Some of us aren’t that literally inclined.” Rimfire snarked as he punched Snow in the ribs.

“A Pandora’s box is a nightmare concoction. It’s something my trainers in NBC warfare used to called nightmare weapons like that one out there. It’s a referral to the ancient myth of ‘A present from the Gods which seems valuable but which in reality is a curse.’ Pandora’s box is an artifact in Greek mythology connected with the myth of Pandora in Hesiod’s Works and Days. It was said that Pandora’s box held all the evils of the world. Pandora was supposed to have opened a box or jar left in her care, containing sickness, death and many other unspecified evils which were then released into the world. The last thing said to be left in the box was the ultimate evil.” Tigger looked towards where Chemical warfare unit once stood. “Just like that shit out there guys. In the NBC world that is our nightmare weapon.”

“And just how many units are there like this one?” Rimfire whispered in fear.

“One it too many Rimfire. See how that cloud is spreading out?” All three nodded their heads. “If it doesn’t start dissipating soon. We’ll have to pull back even further. I wish we had one or two drones.”

“What mean you wish we had one or two drones? You guys empty?” Rimfire asked.

“Used the last of them on Grace Point. Do you have any left?” Iceman asked hopefully.

“One aerial, one ground, the aerial drone has air drop capabilities.” Rimfire told her with grin as he pulled the two drones from the back of their Cyclone.

“Get them in the air.” Tigger ordered.

Thirty minutes later the aerial drone flew over the thickest part of the gas cloud. The ground drone deployed several sensors the second it’s wheels touched down. Tigger stood statue still behind the readout screens for the two drones. It wasn’t look before she was grabbing a pad and pin. Her three teammates knew not to bother her when she was like this. She would write down the time then some numbers. Do some more calculations. Tigger enter a command for the drones to gather air samples after thirty minutes. While she was busy with her calculations her team kept an eye on the slowly explaining gas cloud. They all knew that cloud represent nothing but rolling death. Even after centuries of warfare. Their three greatest fears were still Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical, weapons of mass destruction.

Death Dealers and regular Empyreal Army troops would face hails of gunfire without a second thought. Endure under nonstop raining artillery shells. Charge heavy tanks with nothing more than a can opener and a pissed off motivated attitude. Smile up at a 100-ton Armored Power Suit giving it the one-finger salute. Suffer unbearable heat, cold, humidity, and other natural conditions. They’ll deal with crap that most sane people would think twice about. Usually for low pay, and shitty food. Some times with little to no sleep throw into the mix. All for an ideal.

Yet tell them that they must face chemical or biological weapons you’ll get a very surprising response. Depending on the soldier you could get a face full of knuckles. A kick to the balls. Even in some cases a knife to the gut. To the soldiers of the modern battlefield those weapons of mass death and destruction belonged in the barbaric past. Long before they left Earth for the stars.

In the era of the Armor Power Suits striding across the battlefield as Queens of battle. AI Main Battle Tanks attacking as modern-day Knights. Artillery pounding enemy fortifications acting as Bishops of the battlefield. Light Infantry trading blood every soaked inch of ground like demon possessed Pawns. With the greatest achievement the Death Dealers their Kings of destruction and mayhem. Life has become cheap on the modern battlefield. To these professional military men and women targeting civilians was taboo. To use WMDs on civilians is beyond criminal.

“Okay I got good news and bad news Iceman.” Tigger said finally looked up from the drone readout screens. “Which do you want first?”

“Dealer’s choice Tigger.” Iceman answered coldly.

“Whatever that gas cloud is made from it’s a real Pandora’s mix. Deadly on a scale that anyone has ever seen before. It has a lethality rating of over ninety-nine percent. From first contact to TOD less than one minute. From the pictures that the ground drone sent back I have been able to piece together the stages of attack. First sign is blissing of exposed skin. This is followed by a deep bloody cough. The next sign is uncontrollable muscle convolutions. The last sign blood flowing from the ears, eyes, and nose.” The more Tigger talked about the gas the more her teammates wanted to hunt those NCB units and blast them to hell.

“You said there was some good news. Care to share?” Iceman asked hopefully.

“That shit beings to break down and become inert under direct sunlight in under twenty minutes. Within two hours after the release of the last of the gas you could walk naked through the affected areas. The only reason for decontaminating your personnel and equipment is to prevent buildup. If my calculations are correct.”

“When haven’t they been?” Rimfire snarked.

“No comments from the nut gallery.” Tigger joked in return before getting back to business. “The more that shit builds up the deadlier it becomes. The buildup doesn’t breakdown in sunlight. From what I have been able to figure out. The average decontamination takes between three to four hours. IF there is Decontamination Unit within two klicks of dispersal. Further than that you’re looking at a ten to twelve hours decontamination. If not longer.”

“How long to prep that shit for dispersal?” Rimfire asked writing down notes.

“I’m guessing here, Rimfire. I would say around four hours for prep. Another two to three hours for dispersal. Then you add in the three to four for decontamination. You’re looking at fourteen to sixteen hours in MOPP Level five or Mission Oriented Protective Posture Five.” When Tigger told her team that the enemy was spend 14 to 16 hours in MOPP 5 their eyes popped.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!” Snow yelled. “It’s a miracle that none of them have dropped over from sheer exhaustion.”

“Hold on, Snow. Tigger just what is MOPP five?” Rimfire asked in confusion. “I know what levels one through four are, but I’ve never heard of five.”

“MOPP level five is used only in the most extreme of circumstances. For starters there are three inner suits and one outer suit. The first suit is skintight and full body coverage from the neck down. The second is watertight and just as tight. The third is airtight total coverage including the head with a breather mask. The outer suit is a two-millimeter-thick environmental suit.” Tigger could that her teammates wanted nothing to do with that level of MOPP gear. “Trust me guys you don’t wear that level of MOPP gear unless you have to. Those asshole have to.”

“Then I hope like hell they have more accidents like the one they just did.” Iceman snarled. “Because I don’t know about the rest of you. I’m tired of finding towns filled with dead civilians.”

“Boss can we shift our mission?” Rimfire asked coldly.

“To what?” Iceman asked knowing what she and the others wanted.

“I say we go after the rest of those NBC units. Any objections?” Rimfire asked. When no on the raise objections Iceman looked towards the no dispersing gas cloud.

“Then it’s time for the hunters to become the hunted. Mount up Fallen Angels. We have body bag filling to find.” Twenty minutes later the Fallen Angels were rolling across the face of Apollo 6 with death on their minds and blood in their eyes. Somewhere on this planet several Gorgonzola Chemical Warfare unit were on barrow time. Time that Fallen Angel Death Dealers were coming to collect with a vengeance.

As they drove into the fading sunlight of Apollo’s sun the war on Apollo 6 had entered a new and deadlier phase. One that was being echoed in the very heart of the capital and Deerfield Forest. The Gorgonzola Occupation troops thought they were winning the war. They had no idea of how deadly or personal the war on Apollo 6 had just become. They say that one man fighting for a cause is deadlier than one thousand paid mercenaries. The Cheeseheads were about to find out what facing fifteen such men and women could become.

-----tbc-----