Chapter 1
Preston Military Academy, New Harmony, Heaven System.

The field before the reviewing stand was filled with four hundred of the newest hope-filled, bright-eyed, razor-straight, newly commissioned young officers ready to step out into the universe and make their mark upon it. They came from all over the Empire. They were of all races and in a few cases Nations. The Human Empire had grown under the rule of Empress Maiha Nakatoma. In the last twenty-six years through the use of diplomacy and economic expansion ninety-six new systems had joined the Empire from the outer rim territory. Today one of the members from one of those new outer rim systems was graduating. Jason Cole, the last child of Captain Robert Cole, stood at ridged attention with the rest of his graduating class.

Up in the stands, Sylvester and Sylvia Cole sat at rigid attention. As the older brother and sister of young Jason they had each pulled more than a few strings to be here. They wanted to be the first to congratulate their younger brother, and be the first to salute him. Of the three siblings only, Jason had reached for the skies instead of taking to the field. He was the real maverick in the proud military family. Someone once said that there had been a Cole in the military going clear back to the days of ancient Earth. The Cole family had been everything there was, from Infantrymen, Calvary Scouts, Tankers, Medics, APS Pilots, every conceivable member of the Military with the exception of one. Until now, no Cole had ever flown. The unofficial motto of the family was ‘If the gods had meant for man to fly, then they would have given us wings.’

“Tell me something sis. Do you think Jason will make it as a fighter jock?” Sylvester asked of his twin sister.

“Sylvester, when will you give our baby brother a break? Just because he doesn’t want to trudge through the mud, and muck like you. Doesn’t mean he won’t be one hell of an officer.” Sylvia sniffed. “Besides, I kind of like the fact that he went his own way. It was time for a Cole to take to the skies.”

“Sylvia, please, you know what I’m talking about. He’ll be out there on his own with no family backup. When you add in the fact that forty percent of all fighter combat takes place in space. His chances of living to retirement drop to less than one-in-five. That old saying about fighter pilots living by two elements is true. They either die by fire or live in the air.” There was real worry in Sylvester’s voice for their younger sibling. He knew the facts when it came to a pilot’s life span in a combat situation.

“It wasn’t his choice brother. For starters his natural ability to multitask is beyond any natural born human in our history. That along with there being only one type of A.I. that can even keep up with him, his choices are limited. And only the Empress can give permission for an Omega Assault class Death Dealer A.I. now. Not even the Second-Generation Death Dealer A.I.s can keep up with our little brother’s ability to multitask only the Omega Assault class of an original Death Dealer can. And, like I said, only the Empress can approve those. Even then it is no guarantee that one of those will pair up with Jason. The last time we tried with someone like Jason the results were fatal. For now, though enough of this doom and gloom, Jason is ready to take the stage, so smile and be proud here he comes.” Sylvia’s words had the desired effect as her twin looked down at the stage. Sure, enough Jason was walking across towards the stage to accept his diploma. “He looks so much like father. I wonder what he would have thought about Jason’s choice to join the Empyreal Military as a fighter pilot. I know mother is extremely proud of Jason’s accomplishments. I mean Cadet Commander for his class. Second in overall academic scores. He really did pull it off.”

“That he did, sis.” Sylvester watched as his younger brother marched off the stage. “Any idea of where he’ll be assigned? I tried to find out through my connections, but came up with nothing.”

“Then we’re both in the same boat, brother. Nobody is talking. I even tried to use my clearance as a Doctor to get the info, but still it was a no go.” Sylvia sighed.

The two oldest children of Jackson and Andria Cole had tried their damnedest to find out where their baby brother was going to be stationed. It didn’t matter that Sylvester was a highly decorated Captain with 1st Special Operations Group, 101st Death Dealer Division, or that Sylvia was a Major, with the 335th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, within the same division. This had upset the twins. They wanted to put their mother’s mind at ease about where Jason was going to be stationed.

“You don’t think he got stationed in the Isle of Sky System, do you?” Sylvia asked.

“No. I doubt that, Sylvia. His record with the Nobles is too well documented for the Military to risk such a volatile situation. I also doubt they would have stationed him in the New Orion or Horse Head systems. That leaves only the New Southern Confederacy System or the Great Western Expanse System. Seeing as how the Amazon’s are pushing to make their claim in the GWE system I’m betting they’ll station Jason in the NSC.” Sylvester knew that he was making an educated guess, but didn’t tell his sister that. He felt she didn’t need to know the Confederates were planning on pushing back against the Amazon bankers by using force.

The reports that had been coming out of the NSC were not encouraging. More and more civilians were taking up arms against the Amazon bank reps and shooting them on sight. Some of the reports read like stories out of the ancient American Wild West with whole sale cattle wars. The only deference was the Amazons weren’t trying to grab up small parcels of land, but whole continents. Unlike his sister, Sylvester had access to full intelligence reports. Reports that pointed to the Amazons acting like the Oil, Steel, Railroad, and Cattle Barons of the late nineteenth century.

The problem was the Confederates weren’t rolling over like the other systems were for the Amazons. In fact, the Amazons had sent in four of their crack Armor divisions to quell the uprising. Only to have those divisions cut to shreds. The civil unrest had reached such heights that the Empress was forced to send in Death Dealers to act as peacekeepers when the Knights of Ida-ten were attacked by both sides. Sylvester had been so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice his brother walking up to them.

“Hey, guys! Thanks for coming. How’s mom doing?” Jason said with a smile.

Sylvia wrapped him in a hug. “Congratulations Lieutenant Cole. Well done.”

“Yeah, way to go on getting CC and Super Numerator.” Sylvester gave his brother a welcoming hug and brotherly handshake. “Have you gotten your orders, yet?”

“Yup, they passed them out this morning.” Jason smiled at the fact that his brother didn’t already know where he was going. “I got assigned to the Research and Development Wing on New Texas. I get to be a Test Pilot for the new F-1E5 Strike Eagle Aerospace Fighter. I’m supposed to ship out in four hours.”

Those words had Sylvester and Sylvia’s attention. They were also due to ship out in four hours. There was only one dropship due to leave in that time frame. The Clipper class SS Singapore. The same dropship that will deliver the Cole family to NSC system. The difference is the twins will be going to New Carolina while Jason went on to new Texas and the 628th R&D Squadron.

“I hope that was what you wanted Jason?” Sylvia asked him.

“No, but it will have to do until they can figure out a way for me to integrate with an A.I. As it is, the only way for me to get any real flight time is to be a test pilot. They already told me that I’ll never be able to fly combat missions.” The pain of disappointment in Jason’s voice was clear to his older siblings. “Come on let’s go get my gear. I need to get to the spaceport.”

Three hours later the trio were boarding the SS Singapore. When Jason asked his siblings why they were joining him they explained they had orders for the same system. They didn’t explain that they were headed for another planet. Within an hour after takeoff the dropship fired up its K-F jump-drive engines as it entered the Hyper-Jump Gate. The drop into hyper-space was as fluid as water pored out of a glass. The passengers felt nothing as the dropship slipped easily into the neither world of timeless nothingness that was a dropship’s second home. Thanks to the improvements of the last thirty years in jump-drive engine design the transit time was cut from days to mere hours.

The improvements had been sponsored by the Empress’s family. The new K-F were quickly being called Nakatoma speedsters. The time of it taking days to transit between systems were now a thing of the past. In less than time than it took to reach the jump points dropships were now crisscrossing the Empire. The fastest of these new dropships were the Clippers. Their speed was, as of date, unmatched. They were also one of the few civilian class dropships that were authorized to carry an escort complement of six aerospace fighters due to their high value cargos.

Depending upon the shipping line those aerospace fighters were one of three designs. The FA-118E Eagles a fast and reliable fighter, but depended heavily on missiles. Thus, limiting the aerospace fighters staying power in a fight. The next fighter was the FU-4 Corsairs, they’re fast maneuverable heavily armed, and reliable. The last fighter approved for Civilian use in protection against pirates is the P-51B Mustangs. Of the three aerospace fighters the Mustangs was the only truly dedicated air superiority fighter, mounting a direct fire weapons payload of eight lasers and two particle projection cannons. Admittedly each of these designs are all more than fifty years out of date, but they were all reliable.

Even the Singapore carried three of the approved fighters. The problem that the crew had was they were short pilots. Of the six craft only three had pilots for the three aerospace fighters that were on the approved list. The rest were bound for New Carolina and the 75th Strike Squadron. The Singapore normally carried six P-51B’s for protection, but the three other fighters were all P-38D Lightnings. The Captain knew that it was risky jumping directly into the NSC with only three pilots for the fighters, but it was a risk he was willing to take. The profit margin for this run was too tight for his liking. Hence the risk of the direct jump.

Passenger compartment, SS Singapore, Jason Cole

I sat back in my chair reading my orders for the seventh time that day. I couldn’t believe my luck at getting assigned to the 628th R&D Squadron. The chance at being the test pilot for the new F-1E5 Strike Eagle Aerospace Fighter was the only chance I’ll ever have at combat. I know that I can die out there in the Cold Black or in the Open Air, but that is the way I chose to live. I know that Sylvia and Sylvester don’t understand. Hell, I doubt they ever will. After all they have their Death Dealer A.I.s. Me, I’m just a normal everyday human. Well with one minor exception. Unlike my siblings, I suffer from Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome.

H.H.S.S. is a genetic disorder that only one in every nine-thousand humans suffer. It increases adrenaline production at unusual rates. When I feel threatened or in peril of any type I lose my connection to the real world. To me the world around me slows down, time seems to stand still. I am able to lock onto multiple targets with just my eyes. My reflexes become almost super-human. What that means in terms that even common folk can understand is my Fight or Flight reflex is twenty times stronger than a normal person’s. The problem is, I don’t have one half of that reflex. I only know how to fight. For some stupid reason the flight part never showed up in me. Just ask my brother and sister.

Another thing that Hysteria gives me is the ability to know when a dropship is about to drop out of Hyper-Fold Space. And, right now, I can feel the ripples along the decking plates of an impending Hyper Jump Gate opening. This one is going to be a bumpy one. I can tell by the way the plates are vibrating under my feet. I can also tell that there is a jump inhibitor in place on this gate. Someone is trying to blockade the system. This is not fracking good.

“HOLD ON! It’s going to be a bumpy ride! Sylvester, Sylvia, you might want to follow me once we’re through the gate!” I know I’m scream at the top of my lungs. I have to just to be heard over the now screaming jump engines of the Singapore.

“What in the name of Hell is going on, Jason?! Talk to us here gods be damn it!” Sylvia screams at me from across the aisle.

“No shit little brother! What’s with the engines going ape shit?” Sylvester demanded from beside me. “What is the crew trying to do? Tear the ship apart?”

“No. There’s a jump inhibitor on the gate. Can’t you feel the vibrations in the decking? Someone is trying to blockade the system’s Hyper-Jump gate. If we don’t break through soon the Captain will have to reverse course to New Harmony.” I knew that my family didn’t really understand the difficulty of such an operation. Hell, the only reason I did, was because of my flight training for space operations.

I had no sooner finished that sentence than that’s when I felt it. The surge of raw power that came shortly after the roar that deafened us all. I knew that the Captain had just forced the gate open. It was either that or blow the gate to Kingdom come. With the Hall of Judges declaring such actions War Crimes most dropship captains both civilian and military tended to avoid them.

“Oh Frack! Forget what I said earlier. Sylvia, get to the Med-bay.” I was already throwing off my restraint harness and heading for my flight bags. “Sylvester, head up to the bridge deck. You’re a Tactical Officer. Their going to need your expertise before long.”

“What the fracking hell are you talking about Jason?” Sylvester demanded of me.

“We’re dropping right into the middle of a blockade is what is going on. Out there in the Black is a military force ready to take this ship.” I told him as I stripped off my uniform as I ran down the corridor with my flight bag. I knew where I was needed more than anywhere else. Even as I head for the flight deck I can hear their engines fire over. Twin demons of chained furry and power.

I know the sounds of those engines. They’re not supposed to be on board this ship. There are only a few aerospace fighters that mount those engines, and none of them are on the approved list for civilian defense. I turned to Sylvester, who was hot on my heels for the lefts.

“Sylvester, I don’t know how or why; but there are only three Mustangs aboard this dropship. There should be at least six. I’m heading there now to see what other types of aero-fighters they got.” I finished stripping down once the three of us were in the left. Sylvia gave me the once over in a way that was less than sisterly.

“Damn, little brother. The life of a pilot agrees with you.” There was a note of appreciation in my sister’s voice. “What did they feed you? The last time I saw you, you were nothing but a skinny assed twig.”

I pulled my flight suit out of my flight bag, and began to dress for combat. I looked at Sylvia with a sly smile. “You where one of these eight to ten hours a day, six days a week sis. You’ll lose that baby fat too. Trust me. These damned suits burn off more fat than they advertise. I sweat off five to seven pounds of water weight for each training flight. Why do you think Flight Surgeons pump us full of electrolytes and saline? It’s to keep us pilots from dying in flight.”

Sylvia looked at me with shock and fear in her eyes. I could tell that for the first time she finally understood the danger I placed myself in every time I took to the air. In this age where Armored Power Suits, and Death Dealers ruled the battlefield the real killers were aerospace fighters and bombers. The words of her conversation with Sylvester came back to her. I knew that aerospace pilots lived in the air and died by fire. I knew this more than any other pilot. I already had my brush with the Ferryman once already during training. As I pull up the zipper to seal my flight suit I feel my H.H.S.S. kick in.

Once again time seems to slow. I grab my gloves and helmet out of my bag just as the left doors open. “Get to your stations. You’ll be needed more than the captain expects.”

“Where are you going Jason?” Sylvester demanded.

I smile over at them both. “To glory or death, brother. To glory or death.”

With that I ran across the flight deck as the left doors closed behind me. I know that Sylvester and Sylvia didn’t recognize the last three fighters sitting in the launch cradles. The smile that came to my face was one of pure unadulterated joy. The Mustangs were already roaring down their launch tubs. If I was going to die this day, then I’ll do it in style. There before me were three of the finest fighters ever designed, P-38D Lightnings.

“Yeah, you!” A deckhand shouted at me. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You need pilots for those Lightnings. I’m qualified on the Lightning. Now, if you got another pilot for those birds then I’ll get the hell off your deck.” I shouted back then began to climb into the cockpit of the first P-38 I came to. “If not, then give me a hand in getting this beauty ready to fly.”

The deckhand didn’t even think twice to climb up and help strap me in. “The A.I. is a virgin. There’s no lock codes so you should be able to bypass the launch codes. The A.I. should open to you once you’ve connected your own A.I. to it.”

“Whelp, that’s going to be a problem. I don’t have a bio-A.I. So, this is going to be a fun filled trip one way or another.” The look the deckhand gave me when I told him that I didn’t have a bio-A.I. was priceless. “Yup, you heard me, pal. I’m all natural. I don’t expect to live long out there, but I can at least buy the dropship time to get away from the gate.”

“Damn, Lieutenant. You’re either the bravest man I know, or the stupidest.” With that he reached over and pulled the helmet connects up. With sure hands he attached the neural uplinks to my helmet. “Good luck, and god’s speed, Lieutenant. When you get out there keep an eye on your six. If you see an all-black KV-81 Sturmgewehr run. That is the Black Witch, and she is nothing more than a killing machine.”

“Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.” As I made the final connections to my flight suit from the fighter I felt the first rounds hammer into the dropship. “Oh shit! Those are heavy attack fighters out there. This light weight beauty is going to be so out classed it is pathetic.”

The next exchange of heavy armor piercing rounds slam into the ship’s outer hull. I knew then and there it didn’t matter. I had to be out there to put a stop to the attackers. “Oh, frack it! I may be, out gunned and fighting above my weight class, but I still have to try damn it!”

With that I kicked the engines over and shoved the throttle to the stops. I let the g-forces shove me deep into the seat. With each passing second, I know that I’m about to face my death. It was like the deckhand said. Without a bio-A.I. I was going to have to rely on the fighter’s AI to control the weapon’s targeting system. Not the best solution, but the only one I have.

Of all the light to medium weight fighters the P-38B is the easiest to recognize. The fighter’s twin tail boom and center line control pod marked the fighter as both deadly and maneuverable. The primary and secondary weapons were all mounted in that center line pod. Ten sixty-millimeter pulse plasma lasers, and four fifty-millimeter particle projection cannons. On each wing was mounted four heat seeking missile pods in clusters of four each with a range of just over four miles.

Once clear of the tube, I scan the space around me, and find that I’m in a world of shit. My hysteria spikes to an all time high. I count twelve of the heavy enemy fighters to our four, out of date and out-classed, light fighters. I pull hard on the stick rolling over to fall in behind one of the KV-81’s. the crosshairs in my HUD turn from green to bright red letting me know that I have a hard target lock. I squeeze the tiger and fire the center line pod weapons. Ten sixty-millimeter pulse plasma lasers reach out to cut deep into the tail of the 81.

Even at this range I could tell that my shot did little more than peal paint. I may be faster than the 81, but he has better armor. I need to get in close and hit the son of a bitch with everything I got. Once again, I shove the throttle to the stops. As I close in on the 81 I keep an eye on my heat. I know that I can only push this fighter so far before the engine overheats and explodes. Everyone thinks that piloting an aerospace fighter in deep space is easy. Well, there is a massive misconception along those lines if there ever was one.

For starters, let’s look at the heat the engines produce. Without an atmosphere to help cool the exhaust the reactor’s heat builds at a steady rate. That's the trade off for the speed and maneuverability gained in space. The next problem comes from the heat generated by my weapons. When all your solid offensive weapons are beam weapons, the heat can spike at an alarming rate in space. Without the rush of air to help cool them they melt down, leaving you defenseless. I know that my missiles are good in this kind of a fight, but they too have their drawbacks. Without a functional A.I. to guide them, they’re nothing more than fire and forget rockets.

As I close with the KV-81 I group my weapons to handle the heat. Two groups of five for the PPL’s and two groups of two for the PPC’s. I know that I can spread out my heat and firepower this way and gain a slight chance at staying alive. I forget about the missiles for now. They won’t do me any good right now at this range. I put them on a separate trigger for when I’m close enough to get a hard lock. I only have sixteen of those aerospace-fighter killing wonders.

“WARNING! Pilot is exceeding recommended airframe envelope.” The fighter’s A.I. started bitching me out. “WARNING! Pilot is exceeding heat tolerances of performance specifications. Pilot will reduce thrust at this time.”

I reach over and slap the override. “Oh shut the frack up! I know that already!”

“There is no need to be belligerent pilot Cole.” The A.I. answered back to my astonishment. “We’ll be within optimum range of the 81 in ten seconds pilot Cole.”

“The name is Jason. How is it that you’re Intelligent?” I sked the A.I. as I brought the Lightning into position to fire on the 81’s tail. Even as I pulled back on the first trigger I knew I was on target and the 81 would soon be dead in space.

“All Lightning A.I.’s become self-aware once they connect to their first pilot. Why is it that you do not have a bio-A.I. pilot Cole?”

“That is none of your concern A.I. As far as our pairing goes, it will be for as long as this fight lasts. We either live or die out here.” I pulled the secondary trigger and fired the next set of five PPL’s into the tail of the 81. I know that this time the 81 is done for. I watch as the heavy fighter rolls end over end. Just before it explodes in a ball of fire.

I jam down on the right rudder pedal and shove the stick hard over flipping my fighter over into a barrel roll. I swing wide until I come around once more on the tail of another 81. Only this one is in the middle of a strafing run on the Singapore. I pull tight in to the 81 and open up with every weapon I have. Two of my heat seeking missiles slam home on the engine exhaust, seven of the ten PPL’s rip down the side of the fuselage, while two of the PPC’s blast away the canopy over the cockpit killing the pilot.

“Shit. Well frack me sideways in a back alley. Two kills and I’m still alive.” I don’t know how I’m doing it, but I’m still alive. I can feel the heat rising almost to the point of being unbearable, but I have to keep going. That dropship and my family need me out here.

“Pilot Cole, we cannot keep running at this rate. To do so will endanger your life and cause irreparable harm. As it stands now the PPC’s need a prolonged cooling period before they are ready to fire once more without damaging them.”

“Shut up and get me a firing solution on the next 81. We’re not going down without a fight damn it.” I ordered as I once more slip into the enemy’s blind spot just off their tail. This time I announce my arrival with a missile salvo at point blank range. Unlike before where I fired off only two missiles this time I drop four of my last fourteen. I know it is overkill but I’m dealing with heavy fighter/bombers.

Aerospace fighter craft are designed to be hard to kill. That’s the trade off between lights, mediums, and heavies. At ten to twenty-five tons, light fighters give up armor and longevity for speed and maneuverability. The mediums at thirty to fifty tons, are have longer staying power over the lights but not the protection of the heavies or the speed of the light weights. It is the heavy weights that are the true demons of the sky. At fifty-five to seventy-five tons these monsters had the range and staying power to outlast both light and medium aerospace fighters. They were also more heavily armed and armored. The draw back to that was they were slower and less maneuverable than their lighter and smaller cousins. And, I was facing off against ten of the biggest there are, with one in my sights.

I watch as my four heat seeking missiles lock onto the 81’s heat signature and kick in their boosters driving them to supersonic speeds. At just over four times the speed of sound the first of my missiles hits home. It is shortly followed by its three brethren. The resulting explosion was massive. It forces me to roll hard left and up to avoid the debris and blast zone. As I clear the explosion I scan the area around the Singapore. That is when I notice the two DH-95B Mosquito bomber/torpedo fighters coming in from the stern. I don’t even think twice and dive for them.

“Pilot Cole, I must protest this action. There are two other friendly fighters that can use our help. Why have you broken off contact with the enemy?”

“Don’t you see those two DH-95B Mosquito bomber/torpedo fighters?” I asked in amazement.

“There are no other craft on the sensors pilot Cole. If there are other craft out there they are running in an unknown stealth mode. If that is the case none of our targeting systems will be of any help pilot Cole.”

“No shit Sherlock. I kind of figured that out already.” Even as I argued with the fighters A.I. I closed on the two torpedo bombers. At almost point-blank range I fire all ten of my PPL’s on the lead bomber. I smile as the unexpected attack had more of an impact than I hoped for. My lasers peal back the cockpit canopy of the heavy bomber killing it and its pilot. Again, I roll away to try and get a lock on my next target before becoming a target myself. I had already figured out that the only reason I was still alive was the fact that I kept moving, and not in a straight line. This time though I was the one in for the surprise.

As I came around for my attack on the next DH-95B Mosquito the monster was coming straight at me. We were on a head-on collision course. I had only seconds to act. I fired all four PPC’s and dumped the last of my missiles before rolling over and nose diving under the beast. I didn’t get to see the impact of my shots only the flash from the resulting fireball caused by their damage.

I know that the two torpedo/bombers are dead and that I’m now an Ace, but for some reason it doesn’t feel right. That is when the Lightning’s A.I. gives me the good and bad news. “Pilot Cole, I have a report on our current situation.”

“Okay, give me the good news first.” I said flippantly.

“While you have gained a considerable kill rate, we have received excessive damage to the port side elevator and rudder. The starboard side flaps, and aileron have also suffered damage. At present only seven of the ten PPLs are operational, along with two of the four PPCs. And all missiles have now been expended.”

“Damn! If that is the good news I don’t want to hear the bad.” I chuckled to myself as I swung around to hunt for more targets. I know that I have almost no chance at taking out another KV-81 or anything else right now, but I have to try. Besides the A.I. didn’t say anything about our armor needing repair. Sure, I have a few control surfaces that need repairing. It’s not like I need them to land. I’ll be lucky to last two more exchanges. Hell, I’ll be glad if I last just one more exchange. Of course, my fighter’s A.I. just had to give the rest of his report just then.

“That is the good news pilot Cole. The bad news is that we are leaking air, and you have less than ten minutes worth at present rate of consumption. However, that is not the most pressing of matters. There is a fracture in my outer hull that runs the length of the main fuselage that makes landing aboard the Singapore impractical. The topper is the all-black KV-81 Sturmgewehr that just roll in on our six. In short Cole we’re fracked. Been nice knowing you.”

The flippancy of the A.I.’s reply made me laugh. That damnable computer had put our situation into perspective in a way that I couldn’t. I knew that I was screwed blued and tattooed now. So, to get even with the A.I. I decided to give it a name before we both went down in flames.

“Well, then Lilly, let’s at least put on a good show of dying.” I waited for a snappy come back or something from Lilly but nothing happened. “Hey you there Lilly?”

“I’m here Jason Cole. It has been a true honor serving with you.”

I pulled up on the stick and flipped Lilly on her top. If I was going down it was going to be facing the sick frack that killed me fighting all the way. As I completed the flip I came face to face with the Black Witch and her Sturmgewehr. When the deckhand had told me that it was painted all black he wasn’t kidding. If not for the stars in the background and my targeting systems outlining the Sturmgewehr would fade into the blackness of space. That was until the monster opened up with its main guns. The flash off the eight PPC’s and twelve PLL’s damned near blinded me. The heavy pounding of the Sturmgewehr’s one-oh-five autocannon let me know that it was on target. The last thing I remember is the ejection pod firing.

The Command Deck of the Singapore.

Sylvester had stood there on the bridge watching the battle outside through the main view screen. He had come up here in the hopes of helping his brother. He had gotten the point defense systems up and running. He had also been able to coordinate the main guns so they attacked as an antiair battery. Between the main guns, point defense systems, and the fighters they had been able to drive off the attacking aerospace fighters. Not before losing one of the Mustangs and his brother to the Black Witch. The solid black paint scheme and the Sturmgewehr’s natural radar cross section it made targeting the damned thing almost impossible.

The ship’s gunners had gotten off a few shots at the all black fighter, but nothing connected. The pilot of that Sturmgewehr was just too good. Thankfully his little brother had either gotten extremely lucky or was one fracking hell of a pilot. It was due to his efforts that the ship was still flying, and the casualties were so low. It would have been worse if not for the arrival of the Empyreal Navy Cutter Northern Star. Thanks to the Northern Star they were now undergoing recovery operations for the three downed fighter pilots.

“I want to thank you Captain Cole for your help.” The Singapore’s Captain said from behind Sylvester. “We’re merchant men, not warriors.”

“It was my pleasure Captain Stokes. I just wish that it wasn’t needed.” Then with a smile of pride that was a mile-wide Sylvester pointed out the main view screen. “The real heroes though are out there, Captain. Those three Mustang pilots of yours put up one hell of a fight.”

“I want to take most of the credit on behalf of my crew and pilots, but I can’t. If it had not been for the actions of the Lightning’s pilot, we would be dead out here.” Looking at where the ejection pod of the aforementioned fighter now flouted in space. “Any idea of who he might be? I know that the pilot is not one of my crew.”

“He is most likely, Flight Lieutenant Second Class Jason Cole.” Sylvester knew that the chances of his brother being alive after the fight was small. He and the pilots of the Mustangs were just too outgunned, and outnumbered. “I just hope he is still alive.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that we’re still getting life signs from the rescue pod for the Lightning. There low, but they’re there.” Then a strange look crossed Stokes’s face. “By chance would that young man be your younger brother?”

“That he is Captain Stokes, that he is. And his ass better be alive when those recovery crews find him.” The smirk in Sylvester’s voice had Stokes giving him a sideways glance. “My sister is going to kill him.”

Captain Stokes just laughed at hearing this. “Ah the joys of sibling rivalries. That would mean the Major Cole in my Med Bay is your older sister?”

“Nope, twin sister. She’s just better at dealing with the politics of promotion than I am. I’m a combat soldier pure and simple. As such, I believe the best answers are most often found at the end of a gun barrel, or over a pound of C-4.” Sylvester chuckled. “She is also the one that is going to chew Jason a new ass.”

Stokes chuckled at the young man’s description of the upcoming family reunion. “I take it that your sister is a little protective of you and your brother?”

“Captain, if being over protective is a requirement for sisters then yes. You could say that about my sister, Sylvia.” Sylvester chuckled. “If Jason is lucky Sylvia will just chew him a new ass, and not beat the mortal piss out of him.”

“Oh. Why is that Captain Cole? He did a fantastic job out there. One to be proud of for anyone, let alone a rookie.” Now Captain Stokes really wanted to know what was up with the young pilot that had saved his ship.

“My little brother is not supposed to be running combat operations. He’s a test pilot for a reason.” Sylvester answered honestly.

“Why in the world wouldn’t your brother be allowed to run combat operations? He’s a damned fine combat pilot. I saw that for myself. Before you ask I spent ten years in the Empyreal Navy aboard a Super Carrier. So, I know fighter pilots when I see them, and your brother is one of the best.”

Sylvester sighed. “He doesn’t have a bio-A.I. Captain Stokes. He has no way of connecting to a fighter’s A.I. without a specialized helmet.”

Stokes turned white at hearing Sylvester’s words. “Good Lord! How in the hell was he able to control that fighter out there the way he did? It takes the fine-tuned connection between fighter and pilot A.I.s to handle our modern fighters at the speeds they travel, let alone fight. Has he been genetically enhanced?”

“Nope. He’s all natural like I said. He is just that damned good on the stick. That is also why he has been assigned as a test pilot only. Without an A.I. he can’t connect with a fighter’s A.I. on a solid basis.” Sylvester told Stokes.

Just then the Singapore’s XO walked up with the damage report. “Captain, I have the final damage report and it’s not good.”

“How bad is it Number One?” Stokes asked the man.

The XO began to read from the report. The more he read the more Sylvester wanted to punch the man. “We lost one of the Mustangs to enemy fire. The number one, gun turret will need to be replaced. The number two and three launch tubes will need four weeks in dry dock for repairs. Our starboard engine will need another week on top of that before we’re ready to fly. All in all, Captain we came out of that fight better than expected. The only real loss is the experimental Lightning aerospace fighter, with the new ejection and life support module. That one loss is going to cut into our profit margin to the point that we’ll barely be able to pay the crew. The only good thing to come out of that man’s actions is the recovery of the module. We’ll at least be able to collect on the delivery of it and the research team to the R&D team on New Texas.”

Captain Stokes saved Sylvester the trouble of chew out his XO. “Number One, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the profit margin right now. If not for the efforts of that young man, we would most likely be dead right now. All I want to hear from you is, how much longer before that pod is recovered.”

“The recovery crews just now located the pods for the Mustangs, sir. They tell me it could be another hour or more to find that experimental pod of the Lightning’s. before you take my head off sir, take it up with those scientists that brought that hunk of garbage on board. If we didn’t have those three Lightnings on board, we would have had our full complement of fighters to fight back with. Yell at me all you want sir, but my disagreement with this whole run is on record. You know it.”

“Damn it Number One we will not have this argument again. And, yes you made your feelings well known about this run. Now why should I be talking to the researchers?”

“They won’t give us the full specs on that ejection pod, sir. We’re receiving the medical data, and the location beacon is working, but we can’t get a hard lock on the pod itself. There is something about the actual makeup of the pod’s armor that is making it hard for our recovery crews to lock on.” The XO answered.

“Wait, are you telling me the metal of the pod has some kind of stealth attributes?” Sylvester damned. When the XO nodded yes Sylvester had to keep from beating the man. “I want those fracking researchers up here now.”

“You may be an Army officer, but you do not command here, Captain Cole.” The XO replied snidely.

“Oh, that may be true Number One, but I do command here. Do as the Captain ordered.” Captain Stokes’s voice held no doubt that his order would be carried out. Stokes turned to Sylvester. “Don’t worry Captain we’ll get to the bottom of this shortly.”

“We damned well better, Captain Stokes. Because my sister is on her way up here as we speak. If we don’t have answers for her soon, we won’t be the ones in deep shit. It’ll be you and your crew.” Sylvester told Stokes honestly.

“Why is that sir? I didn’t ask for your brother’s help.” Stokes felt he should point out the very glaring problem of where the blame should be placed.

“My sister, is very good friends with those in the R&D divisions of our military. Our brother has already shown his ability as a test pilot. Do you know how hard it is to find a test pilot that can climb into any aerospace fighter and pilot it without an A.I.? I’ll tell you. Only one in every twenty-seven thousand citizens can do what my younger brother can.” Sylvester could tell that Stokes now understood just how rare Jason Cole was to the Empire.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of several people on the Command deck. One of which was wearing the uniform of a Doctor in the Medical Corpse of the Death Dealers, with the rank of Major. This woman was the one that he should be afraid of over the other three. As it was he knew the other three more than he wanted. They were the research team for the Lightning.

“Captain Stokes, you better have something to tell me on the whereabouts for my missing P-38D Lightning. I have far too much time and credit invested in that aerospace fighter for some hotshot fighter jock to have destroyed it joyriding.” The man in charge of the research team demanded.

“Professor Wittman I suggest that you control your tone. You’re not in your lab, but on my command deck. If I want I can have your ass thrown out the nearest airlock and not give one frack about it, except for the paperwork.” The fury in Stokes’s voice was palatable to everyone. “As for a so called ‘joyriding’ fighter pilot. Let me remind you, that pilot saved this ship by his actions. If it was within my power I would award his bravery with whatever I could.”

“You do not understand Captain. That aerospace fighter does not have a normal rescue pod.” Wittman was almost in a panic over the recovery of the Lightning’s pilot rescue pod. Sylvia spotted what her brother and the Captain didn’t.

“Professor what is so important about the rescue pod?” She asked of the man.

“You do not have the needed clearances to know that Major.” One of the other men told her in a snippet manner. “As for what is why the recovery of that pod is of importance it just is. Do you understand, Major?”

Now Sylvia was pissed. No one had talked to her in that manner since she made Major. “No, I don’t sir. Now you can either answer my questions or you can answer my brother. I can assure you that you won’t like the way he asks questions or gets answers. He lacks my patience when dealing with dumbasses.”

Sylvester got his sister’s hint and just gave the men a harsh smile as he cracked his knuckles. “Do I finally get to play sis?”

“Not yet brother dear. I think we can give the gentlemen a few seconds to think over their attitudes, Captain.” Sylvia looked at the research team with a sly smile. “Oh, and gentlemen, I highly suggest that you do reconsider your attitude on information sharing. Because if we don’t get those answers then a Military Inquiry will be demanding those answers at gun point.”

“Sorry, sis, but that Inquiry won’t be using guns, just my knuckles and a breaker bar.” Sylvester had already lost his patience with the scientists. “Professors I want to know right now. What’s so damned important about that escape pod?”

“It’s not so much the pod itself, Captain, but the A.I. in that pod.” Wittman gulped and turned white at Sylvester’s very blunt accusation. The scientist really didn’t want to give this man or his sister any information about his pet project. He knew they were barely legal with their research. If the military found out that he was using band A.I. technologies, then he was in real trouble.

“Professor, what is so all fired important about that A.I. that you want kept secret? I need to know, and I need to know now.” Sylvia asked.

“You have already been told that it is above your clearance Major. The same goes for you as well Captain. All you need to know is that the pod has a highly experimental A.I. and it is one that needs to be recovered.” The second loud mouth scientist answered back. That was all Sylvester needed to hear.

Grabbing the man by the throat and squeezing Sylvester leaned in close. “You have less than twenty seconds before your brain shuts down from lack of oxygen. After that you have maybe another five minutes before you suffer permanent brain damage and shortly there after death. I’m going to let go now so you can answer my sister’s question professor. I suggest that you do this time.”

“Let go of Professor Moline and I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Doctor Katrine Kings said, the only woman in the group told Sylvester. Hearing this Sylvester dropped Moline face first on the floor. Then turned to face the woman. “The A.I. in that rescue pod is based off an Omega Class Infiltrator for the Death Dealers.”

“YOU USED FRACKING WHAT?” Sylvia screamed at the top of her lungs. “Those A.I.s were banned for a reason you dumb son of a bitches. Sylvester just kill these three morons for violation of an Empyreal Decree.”

Sylvester had never seen his sister this angry before. Then again, he could understand why she was pissed. The Infiltrator class A.I.s were banned for good reason. They were unpredictable and highly unstable. Even as Sylvester moved to carry out his sister’s order Wittman held up his hands.

“Wait! Wait!” Sylvester stopped in front of him with his PPL extended. “We only used the basic programing for the Infiltrator. Nothing more, I swear. It was the only way to meet our needed parameters.”

“And just what are the parameters, Professor? And you better be exact, or my brother will take you head off.” Sylvia told the man.

“Our fighters were meant to be the next generation of fighter craft. Haven’t you wondered how the Amazons have been able to amass such massive aerospace fighter Wings with so few pilots? Over seventy-five percent of their fighters are A.I. controlled. The Amazons don’t need pilots, just the materials to build more A.I. control fighters, bombers, tanks, and L.E.O. units. That’s how they’re controlling these outer rim systems. If the Empire cannot match the Amazons in their military build-up then the Empire is going to fail.” Wittman confessed.

“Wait are you telling me that out there right now, is basically a Death Dealer A.I. without a human mind to control it?” Asked Sylvia in horror.

“Well, yes. That was the whole idea behind the experimental fighters.” The woman with the research team answered her. “We have known that the Amazons have been pairing these super A.I.s with combat equipment for a while now. We just didn’t know how they were doing it. It wasn’t until recently that we cracked the mystery.”

The full impact of what the research team was trying to do, hit Sylvia like a sledge hammer. She also knew what it meant for her brother Jason. “Did it ever occur to you Brainiac’s to think about what a rogue Death Dealer A.I. could do?”

When they just gave her a blank look Sylvia wanted to scream. Only Sylvester understood what his sister was getting at. He hoped and prayed she won’t say it out load. His hopes were dashed, and prayers went unanswered. “Let me break it down for you. A rogue Death Dealer A.I. is an unstoppable killing machine. One that doesn’t know the difference between friend and foe. All it does is kill. Until something kills it. Do you get it now you fracking morons?”

“Excuse me, but there is a more pressing concern, here sis.” Sylvester placed his hand on her should to calm her. “Professors did you disconnect the E.L.S.S.?”

“Um… no. We left it in and active. We didn’t see any reason to disconnect the Emergency Life Support System. The fighters weren’t supposed to have pilots. Why does that matter?” Wittman asked.

“Oh shit! Sylvia, we could very well have a Secondary Configuration on our hands.” Sylvester pointed out the worse case scenario for his sister. “One that this ship isn’t setup to handle. We need to get a handle on this shit fast.”

“Excuse sirs, ma’am, but the recovery crews have located and locked onto the Lightning’s escape and rescue pod. According to the recovery team leader they should be back aboard in twenty minutes.” The Communications Officer told them.

“Have them place the pod in one of the empty cargo holds Comms.” Stokes ordered.

“You will do no such thing!” Wittman hollered out. “That pod is valuable. It needs to be under armed guard and this time I insist.”

Wittman’s demands were cutoff by the appearance of the ten-millimeter flechette pistol in his face. The soft growl of Sylvia’s voice filled the command deck. “That is my brother out there you jack-hole. The only place that pod is going to be placed is on the recovery deck. I want a full med-team on standby, with crash cart. If there is not a full Heavy Rescue Team, there then I will personally shoot you in the ass. And gentlemen I may not have my brother’s training in firearms, but I can’t miss with this little number.”

The Singapore’s Recovery Deck.

Sylvia’s very blunt threat had the desired effect. An hour later the twins, the research team, and the flight crew were gathered on the recovery deck around the rescue pod. Wittman was the first to speak.

“This is not supposed to have happened. Just what the hell is that?” He said pointing at the heavily armored lump on the floor of the recovery deck.

It took Sylvia all of two seconds to realize what it was. Only Sylvester knew what his sister was looking at, and he didn’t like it. There in front of them was a nightmare straight out of Death Dealer history. Something that he and every modern day Second-Generation Death Dealer prayed to never seen again. On or off the battlefield. Most especially off the battlefield. Yet, here before them all was the greatest fear of all Death Dealers.

“That gentlemen, is a nightmare straight out of our history. One that we have you to thank for, Professor Wittman. You and your team that is.” Sylvia hissed out. “Your stupidity at using a banned Death Dealer A.I.’s programing for your experimental aerospace fighter. Inside that lump of armor and circuitry is a human being undergoing a radical transformation. A transformation that we do not have control over. Or any idea of how it is going to affect its host.”

“Excuse me, Major Cole, but exactly what is that thing? I know it is no longer my command module. Nor is it anything near what should have been recovered.” Wittman asked of Sylvia in confusion.

Sylvia answered the man with four words. “A Secondary Configuration pod.”

-----tbc-----