---

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.

---

Chapter 7
Camp Red Cloud, Seth, New Egypt

I look into the mirror at the once skinny assed kid turned Death Dealer. Thanks to all the improvements in interviewing candidates the time to turn out Death Dealers is down from 14 months to just 2 months. I look down at my right hand at my class ring. I cannot believe that I took Class Commander and Super numerator. This was indicated by the bloodred ruby on top and blue gemstone chip on the side. The two rarely go to the same person. I let my eyes go to the Special Operations Star and Sniper Crosshairs that inhabit my left breast pocket. Those two wards together one the same person are even rarer among the one percenters of the Empire’s Military that are the Death Dealers.

Yesterday during final inspection for Graduation my Instructor stopped and looked hard at the twin circles of gold and black. “You’re a fracking one. Just like your great uncle James. No wonder you took both top spots. Good luck.”

I didn’t understand what the man meant but I found out from Celest in fracking hurry. ‘He’s talking about odds, Rob.’

‘Okay what does that mean?’ I asked her. It had taken a few weeks to get use to a voice that only I heard.

‘I’ll tell you tomorrow after graduation. When you can take his ass behind the motorpool to discuss the matter with your fists legally.’ Was all she said.

That is one thing I can say I really respect about the Death Dealers. If you have a problem with a superior or fellow solider you can take them out behind the motorpool and handle it like soldiers. The only rules were no broken bones and no disabling injuries that result in discharge. Oh spending a few days in the hospital is also off the table. Short of those three things it goes. The Death Dealers really believe in the Circle of Equals. The only exception is for Instructors. They are allowed to do or say whatever it takes to turn out the best of the best, short of killing you out right if you’re a trainee. Now that I’m no longer under his command. If I don’t like what he said. I can beat the shit out of him, and no one will care. I should say try to beat the shit out of him. I am a realist after all and know my chances of winning a fight with a 20yr vet.

“Yo! Wolff time to head over to the stage. Can’t let our ‘one’ miss his big day.” Catline Whitehorn said with a smile as she pulled on her garrison cap. She saw the look of shock on my face and patted me on the shoulder. “Relax bro, you’ll at least make it down on your first drop before buying the farm.”

“Okay that is the second time someone has called me a one. Just what the frack are you talking about? Truth Tigger.” I ordered the fisty little redheaded Elf. I learned on the first day not to call her Kitten, Kitty, or even Cat. It was Tigger, Catline, or Whitehorn. The woman was a nasty little bitch with CQC blades.

“Look Rob, the higherups have this matrix that calculates everyone’s odds of surviving a drop. They use for everyone, Jump Infantry, APS Pilots, tankers, artillery crews, ADA crews, I mean everyone. First, they take into account the number of ops you have under your belt. Then they add in your actual job in the mission. After that they figure in the type of op. They take all that plus a few other factors and assign you a number. The higher your number the better your chances of surveying a op. Up to a point. So long as your number stays around seven, eight, or nine, they expect you to live for a long time. That is why they rotate units out of the hot zones. To keep their numbers down by forcing them to relax. But there is an exception to that rule. Snipers are always rated three points lower than everyone else for survival.” She explained for me. I figured that having a really low number was a good thing for me.

“All Death Dealers start off with a five. Because we’re just out of training and still fresh enough to not pull something stupid on our own.” Cat point to the Crosshairs and Star on my pocket. “You went from a five to a one thanks to those two badges buddy. Two points for being Special Operations. Two more points for being a sniper. That gives you the lowest chances for survival according to the math that the higherups use.”

“In short, they’re expecting me to die before I ever reach the LZ for my first drop. That about cover things Tigger?” I asked sharply.

‘Ding. Give the man a cigar!’ Celest quipped in my head. ‘Want to prove ‘em wrong?’

‘In more ways than one Celest.’ I said Celest while waiting for Tigger to answer my question to her. The blush that came to her lovely face said more than words ever could. “Relax Tigger. With all the assholes, cock-bits, and frack nuts looking to end my life. Then I add in the fact that I have ties to the current and former Royal couples. I never expected to live beyond nineteen anyway. Someone is bound to get a lucky shoot off at my ass sooner or later.

“Damn that is a fracked-up way to look at the world, Rob. At least you’ll have a month off to enjoy your new rank before we hit our first units.” Cat said with a grin. “And to recover from the hangover. Remember you’re paying for the first round of drinks at the NCO Club.”

“By the way you want to explain to this poor backwoods country boy exactly why I’m buying drinks at the NCO Club tonight?” I snarled as we headed down to form up to march over for graduation. “Don’t me give some bullshit about placing at the top.”

“Because of those two damned badges, your placement at the top of the class, and Class Commander. Didn’t you pay any attention during orientation Rob?” Cat sighed.

“Well, yeah I did but that was over two months ago. I’ve spent the two months just trying to keep my head down, do my best, and survive. Why?” I asked her then told her honestly. “With the shit that happened at my upgrade I didn’t need any extra attention drawn to my ass.”

“If this was you trying to keep a low profile, Gunner. Then you need to do a better fracking job.” Jack ‘Iceman’ Beel said as he fell in behind the two.

“Knock it off Iceman. It’s not Gunner’s fault the rest of us couldn’t keep up with his scores or match his performance.” Lissa ‘Free runner’ Smith said just before she smacked Iceman in the back of the head.

“Alright you clowns knock it off.” I ordered the core group of friends I had gathered over the last few weeks. Then I smiled over at Tigger. “Now would one of you apes explain to me what is so damned important about me snagging the two top spots and why I’m buying drinks at the NCO Club after graduation?”

“By the Gods! He really did forget!” Iceman said as he pulled out his wallet and handed Tigger a ten spot. “Here. I should have asked for an over/under on the time.”

I watched as my other friends walked over and started handing Tigger a paper note. When the last of my platoon hand her a five credit note I was royally pissed off. “Okay here people. Just what the frack was that all about? Tigger did you have a pool going about something and me?”

“Sure did. It all concerns today’s graduation and you forgetting about the award for anyone snagging both top spots.” She said as she counted up her winnings. Once she had she cut it in half and handed it to me. “Here you go. Thanks for making me five-hundred gold credits, Mister Wolff.”

“That’s Corporal Wolff, Privet Whitehorn. Don’t go making me out to be some damned officer.” I snarled as Celest posted something on my HUD. ‘Celest what is with these orders you just put up?’

‘Your promotion and commissioning orders, Robert. As of 1400hrs local time today. You are officially a Warrant Office One in the Death Dealers.’ I thought I was going to fall on my ass when Celest told me that I would be a Warrant.

“I see by the look on your face, that your AI just filled you in Rob. Congratulations buddy. Way to go.” Tigger said with a real smile while she waved the stack of bills, she had won. “Don’t worry I’ll help with the bar tab if it gets out of hand.”

Damn I had forgotten about that possible promotion. It was what everyone had been busting their asses to win. It just my stupid blind luck that allowed me to earn both Class Commander and Super numerator. Then again if the final test hadn’t been held in a city slum things might not have turned out the way they had. For most of my class mates the idea that an urban environment could be used at flipping the battlefield. I know that I totally screwed the curve by using a trash truck to deliver a ‘bunker buster.’ I guess spending most of my teenage years running the streets of the meanest city on Apollo 6 prepared me for the life of a Death Dealer. In more ways than just one.

I earned the nickname Gunner because of how fast I was on the trigger. By that I mean more than just with firearms. I could examine a tactical situation and find the week points faster than Celest. I just knew where, when, and how to attack a problem with the lowest number of casualties. Thanks to everyone in my class pushing themselves to achieve the top two spots. All because of my crazy ass scores. Our Black Hats had to come up with one massive bitch fest for final evaluation.

We called it the ‘Moscow Bunker’. While everyone else was thinking about using a small unit to take it level by level. I just packed a trash truck with 1200lbs of simulated high explosives and drove straight through the front gate. I bailed out just before it hit the front door with 3 seconds on the fuse. The warehouse they were using to simulate the bunker wasn’t happy with having to replace their door, but I didn’t give a shit. It got the job done and didn’t break any rules. With what they were getting paid they could afford a new door.

“ATTENTION!” All other thoughts were put out of my mind as Master Instructor, Command Sergeant Major Allen Smoke called us all to attention. Then with his usual clear commanding voice called out. “Right! Face! Forward! March!”

We hadn’t taken more than two steps before he started calling cadence for us. It was one of the oldest cadences known to the military. His voice sang out with.

As we marched over to the parade field, we let our voices carry the ancient cadence across the still morning air. The stump of our feet as they hit the ground in time with CSM Smoke’s singing. The retheme settled our nervousness as a whole. The exception was my own. I knew that I would be receiving a special commission at the end of the ceremony. Combat Arms Warrant Officers were a rare breed these days. Most Warrant Officers were NCOs who were commissioned as officers in Electronic Warfare, Intelligence, Maintenance, Communications, Medical, Helo-aviation, fields that had actual needs for really specialized training.

As I stood there on the parade ground in formation with the rest of my class, I went over the CAWO ranks. ‘Celest I need you to fill me on something. What exactly is the place of CAWO in the chain of command?’

‘Here let me show in a graph. It will be easier.’ Celest said as she put the graph up on my HUD. ‘As you can see most Warrant Officers fall into the middle ground between Commissioned Officers and NCOs. Normally this is because of their fields. The one exception are CAWOs. Combat Arms Warrant Officers are true professionals in one field only, Guerilla Warfare. They have to be Jacks-of-all-trades and masters of none. Something that as a Death Dealer you excelled at over the rest of your class. Between your naturally twisted way of resolving problems and my less than normal programming. We make a truly unstoppable guerilla warfare expert.’

‘You’re tell me that just because I don’t have problems with fighting dirty the brass decided to award me?’ I asked her in shocked. When Celest didn’t answer me right away I wanted to scream. That's just fracked up!

‘Don’t kill the messenger kiddo. It wasn’t my fault you came up with ways to fight a war that is nastier than an Onyx Frost Crocodile on Hypha nine.’ Celest chuckle was just short of a full-blown laugh in my head. ‘All while staying well within the Conventions of War set forth by the Treaty of Broken Armies.’

‘Hay, the way I see it if they don’t want the loopholes exploited then plug the loopholes. You don’t want me to break the rules or work around them. Don’t print them out in the first place.’ I chuckled. ‘Like Father Jim always told me. “Rules boy, rules and regulations. They let you know exactly what you can get away with legally or just how far you can push things.”

‘That is exactly what I am talking about. You use the rules and regulations to work around or bypass the ones that get in your way or don’t like.’ Celest said as she chuckled in my head. ‘It is that type of thinking that has the brass scratching their collective heads in wonder. It’s also just the type of thing your great uncle was known for pulling off when under pressure.’

‘Let me guess. They want to know if lightning really can strike twice.’ I snarked. We each marched up to the platform in alphabetical order. Leaving my happy ass stuck at the end. Anyone who had a name that began with XYZ name had washed out long ago. Not to mention anyone who had a name that started with anything other than Wo. In short, I was tail end Charley. Last man out the door. I must have really been ignoring the ceremony as I neared the stage to pick up my skin. Because standing off to one side was the Reverend Mother Katsumi, and Lord Robert the Bruce Owens, Head of House Owens. The only man in all of the Human Empire to command the Bloodline Warriors. A military force surpassed only by the Death Dealers.

If he is here, then shit was trying to go sideways on me. I needed to get a handle on it before it goes too far. ‘Celest give me the Murphy factor.’

‘We got a Murphy factor of 5 on the ‘Oh shit scale’ with just the Reverend Mother. Add in the old man it jumps to a 9.9 ‘frack me sideways’ boss.’ Celest grunted at the back of my mind. ‘Rob that man has political designs for us.’

‘I figured that already, Celest. I also know why he is looking into us.’ I waited for Celest to access the records concerning the retaking of the Owens Clan’s home world. ‘Lord Robert Owens needs me to be, the last True Wallace, to lead his army of conquest to retake all of the Isla of Sky system.’

‘Okay hold on here Rob. There is not Isla of Sky system in the Imperial records. What kind of tall tale you spinning here?’

‘No tall tale Celest just honest truth. The system you need to scan for is System four one nine seven. Make sure you use the Velmaro naming style.’ I ordered her before stepping onto the stage. ‘There isn’t a free citizen of Sky that hasn’t dreamt of the day that the Blood Red Knights and Owens Head of Clan returns. That fool over there made the mistake promising them that day was within reach.’

‘I don’t understand Rob. How could such a brilliant leader like Robert the Bruce Owens make such a massive political blunder?’

‘Fracked if I know Celest. All I know is that thirty-five years ago the citizens of Sky started to interlock their colony ships. My mother and father were talking about joining the Isla of Sky colony before the last raid by the Cheeseheads. They had even booked passage on a dropship bound for the colony before their deaths.’ I told her as I walked towards Colonel T.C. Wilder, Commanding Officer for the training battalion that I was currently assigned. As I near him, I stop a respectful three feet away, salute and at the top of my lungs called out. “Corporal Robert Wolff, Sir. Death is Dealt by our hands!”

“Death is Dealt by our Hands.” Wilder answered as he saluted be me back. “At ease, Corporal Wolff. Welcome to the Death Dealers.” He handed me my skin and shock my hand. Then he called out. “Attention to orders!”

Everyone wearing a uniform snapped to full attention at those three words and waited for Colonel Wilder to read from a sheet of paper. “By orders of the Empyreal Military High Command for achieving the near impossible task of both Class Commander and Super numerator Corporal Robert Wolff is hereby awarded the rank of Combat Arms Warrant Office, First Class. Through his dogged attention to detail, relentless pursuit of excellence, with unwavering faith Corporal Wolff let his achievements elevate his fellow Death Dealers to reach for greater goals themselves. Yet it was those achievements that set him apart. I shall now administer the Oath.”

Talk about being a windbag. I so wanted to just shut up and take my oath of commissioning. Wilder finally looked me in the eye and raised his right hand. I quickly followed suite. “Repeat after me, Corporal, ‘I, state your name, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the Human Empire against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. I will obey the orders of the Emperor and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. I shall place the needs of my soldiers before the needs of myself. So, help me God.”

I didn’t even let my smartass bone show its snark-side as I repeated Colonel Wilder. With one miner correction. I gave my full name when I should. “I, Robert Edward Wolff, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the Human Empire against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. I will obey the orders of the Emperor and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. I shall place the needs of my soldiers before the needs of myself. So, help me God.”

“Congratulations, Mister Wolff.” Colonel Wilder says with a smile as his shakes my hand and hands me, my new rank. I never would have thought that two 1x½ pieces of silver-plated tin could feel so damned heavy. Then as if to end my hopes of escaping Reverend Mother Katsumi walked up to me. Without preamble she reached up and replaced my shoulder boards with those showing my new rank.

She leaned in close as she was replacing the left shoulder board. “Your cousin is extremely proud of Robert. She and her wife are standing over by the eastern exit. Behind the empty news stand. You’ve done the whole family proud Robert.”

“Don’t know about that Reverend Mother. I just did what I had to do to survive. If that meant coloring outside the lines five pages over from the one everybody else is on. That’s what I did. You don’t survive the streets of Goulcrest playing by the rules. Just ask my cousin when you get the chance.” I whispered back. “She would know better than anyone else. They still tell stories about James Jessie Owens the original outlaw of the Ebony city.”

“It seems that history has once again placed an incredibly unique individual in my path. I shall be watching young Robert. I believe that you shall achieve great things in the years to come.” Katsumi was grinning as she set my right shoulder board. Once both shoulder boards were set, she stepped back about 3ft and saluted. “Congratulations, Mister Wolff.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I said as I returned her salute. For the life of me I didn’t know why she was the one to pin my rank. Yet there was something about this holy woman that screamed Military in the back of my mind. I set Celest on the problem. If anyone could find the answer, it would be my AI.

“Mister Wolff, under normal circumstances a graduate of your standing would have his choice of assignments. As would the other top six graduates for your class. Today that is not the situation. As of 0845 local time the planet Apollo six was attacked by a force of at least eighteen divisions. The rest of the Highlands system has also come under attack within the last few hours. Total number of divisions and total fleet assets is unknown at this time. This is a full push by the Gorgonzola Empire to take the Highlands board system.” The more Colonel Wilder talked about what was going on my home planet the madder I became.

“WHAT THE FRACK?!” I snapped without thinking. “How the hell did this happen? Where was the damned fleet?”

“MISTER Wolff, I suggest you get a handle on your attitude.” Wilder ordered then without skipping a beat. “The answer to where the screening fleet was all I can say is there is no easy answer. The situation is complicated. The Cheeseheads attacked during the standard rotation. According to the one Intelligence asset that was able to escape. Even if the standard relief fleet had been in place the attacking Cheesehead force would have swept it aside like so much dust.”

“When are the Battle Groups going in?” I demanded.

“They’re not. At least not yet. Due to the disposition of our forces, it is going to take a few months to organize a force large enough to retake the Highlands. Until then we need to make their stay as unfriendly as possible.” Colonel Wilder explained for me with a nasty smile. “We know that the citizens of Apollo citizens are known for their less than hospitable attitude to unwelcome guests normally. This time though we need more organized effort.”

It didn’t take a building to fall on my ass to understand what he was telling me. I started calling out the call signs of the other top graduates. “Iceman, Tigger, Free-runner, Jukebox, Snow, Rimfire, front and center.”

The six of them fell out of ranks and formed up next to me on the stage Wilder chuckled. The fact that I was the only officer in their ranks meant that it was my command. Of the seven of us there was 2 Petty Officers 2nd class, 3 Sergeants, 1 Corporal and 1 newly commissioned baby CAWO-1. Until my commissioning the top 7 graduating positions were held by 7 NCOs. We were also all part of the same training fireteam. Our Blackhat call us his Fallen Angels.

“Fallen Angels ready to rollout sir.” I said as I saluted Wilder. “You want the meanest you got the meanest. Just one question, sir. How big of a cluster frack do you want on Apollo six? Because you give me one more fire team and we’ll give the Cheeseheads more than just a black and bloody nose.”

“Gather those you need from your class. Those are the only forces available for this mission. No more than a platoon sized fireteam. I will only allow volunteers.” Wilder answered me bluntly. That was all I needed to hear.

“Fall in, Black Saints!” I called out at the top of my lungs. I kept the smile to myself as the seven members of the Black Saints fell in behind us. They were the only fireteam that had more than one officer. Only they weren’t your normal officers. Both 1stLt Dan Strowman and 2ndLt Micha James were ‘Mustangs’. They had both been Enlisted members of their home planet’s PDFs who had earned battlefield promotions during raids. They were the only officers treated with real respect from the Black Hats. The ones that came out of the academies and other officer courses were treated little better than us Enlisted.

“Black Saints and Fallen Angles.” Reverend Mother Katsumi chuckled. “An unholy partnership. One befitting the impossible task set before them.”

“They’ll be the exact troopers to bring pain, misery, and heartache to the Cheesehead occupation troops in the Highlands system.” The voice may have been female, but it has a distinctive digital tone. I looked over to the far side of the stage. There stood something I hadn’t seen sense I had left Apollo 6. A full-body cyborg. It stood there scanning me and the other newly graduated Death Dealers.

“Ah Blackjack. How was your trip over from HQ?” Katsumi asked politely.

“It was rather pleasant, Reverend Mother. Though I do wish that I had the chance to pick which Death Dealers were making the return with me.” Blackjack grunted then gave me an odd look. “Reverend Mother a moment of you time?”

I watched as the two women step off to one side with Wilder hot on their heels. I cranked up the reception on my audio sensors. “Reverend Mother how is it that Death can be here on the stage and in the audience at the same time? Don’t try to tell that I am imagining it either. I know that IFF anywhere.”

‘Celest what the frack is that cyborg talking about? What IFF?’ I demanded of her.

‘Robert do you remember what I said about our source code being Alpha-one-nine-nine-eight-Bravo-Delta-Delta-two-Alpha?’ It took me a second to remember then she explained why that was important. ‘Our IFF for the Death Dealer Mil-Net is Alpha-one-nine-nine-eight. The same IFF as your cousin, Empress Maiha and the man called Death, Commander James J. Owens Sr.’

‘Oh shit! That cyborg is a member of the Emperor’s Hand.’ That thought hit me like an Assault class dropship on a hot burn for a hotter LZ.

“Blackjack that Intel is classified. Above everyone’s clearance. Is this going to be a problem for you and your teams back on Apollo?” Wilder snapped just loud enough for me to hear clearly.

“Me and my teams only answer to Emperor and one other person, Death.” The cyborg answered flatly. Then point over at me. “I just need to understand how there could be two people with the same IFF. Especially that one.”

I had enough and marched straight up to the three of them. “If you want to know the answer to that question Blackjack. It’s really simple. The dumb cunt that was in charge of my immersion hacked the Royal Archives. Then stole the source code for James J. Owens Sr. and used it as the basis for my AI.”

“Where is this individual?” Blackjack snarled as pair of CQC blades extended from her forearms. “They shall answer to the Hand.”

“Already taken care of, Blackjack. She is part of a High Priest system for an asteroid mining shovel.” Colonel Wilder told the cyborg to calm it down.

“Very well. So long as that matter been taken care of, sir. Why is the Bruce here?” Blackjack asked them both.

‘This is going to get sticky Robert. Get this tin can back on topic.’

‘Working on it Girlfriend. Trust me, I don’t want this crazy bitch anywhere near my connection to that asshole.’ I coughed to clear my throat. “Ma’am are you the asset that brought in the Intel on the Cheesehead attack?”

“I am, Mister Wolff. I’ll be giving you a full briefing once we are on the return leg of my journey.” I could already tell Blackjack didn’t like having me divert her question. Not that I gave a shit.

“Thank you, ma’am. What dropship should the teams report to?” I asked politely.

“Report to the Mary Edwards Walker in five hours.” Blackjack ordered then turned to walk away only to stop and give me a hard look. “Mister Wolff I do hope you can live up to the legacy you have been given.”

“The only legacy I have to live up to is my own, lady. You don’t like it then tuff shit and have a nice day.” I tossed her the one finger salute and turned to Wilder and Katsumi. “Sir, ma’am, if you’ll excuse me. I got two teams I need to prep for a orbital drop over an extremely unfriendly planet.”

“Excuse young man but you’ll be returning with me. It is time for you to take your rightful place as the Wallace.” Lord Owens said as he walked up to our gathering. “It’s your people and their rightful home you need to concern yourself with. Not the vagrancies of the Highlands system.”

Yup there it was. I just knew the man couldn’t stay out the mix. He just had to try an exert some kind of political clout. Time to end this before shit got out of hand. “Lord Owens, as much as it pains me to see the Owens Clan still without their home world. That is not my concern. Understanding something. Unlike my parents I feel nothing for the Clan. Never have and frankly I most likely never will. I will not be some guiding savor for the Owens Clan. Besides you’re the Bruce. They will follow you. You just have to lead them.”

“Wait one minute, Mister Wolff. Just hear me out.” Owens could already tell by the look in my eyes I won’t be his political tool. I gave him a second look and nodded my head. “Word has already spread among the Clan that there is a true Heir to James J. Owens. They won’t follow the Bruce if there is a true Heir for the Wallace to act as the rightful Head of the Clan. You are that Heir.”

“That may be true sir.” I told him honestly then grinned. “But only from a certain point of view. No matter what the DNA scans show.”

“What does that mean boy? We know that you’re an Owens and a direct descendant to James J. Owens family line. Your duty is to the people of our clan.” Lord Owens snarled as he started to get in my face. “We don’t have time to play games with the Cheeseheads. We must strike at the heart of the Wingnuts and free our home world.”

“That sir, is where you’re wrong. I owe nothing to the Owens clan. They’ve had the chance to put down roots on new home worlds. They haven’t needed to wonder aimlessly. Your foolish boost to reclaim our home world is what put the clan in the position that it is in now.” I spat back in his face. “Let me be perfectly clear on this matter. I have no use for politics. My cousins may be political creatures, but I am not. I never will be. Sort out your problems on your own.”

“Where is your loyalty to the Clan boy?” Lord Owens almost screamed.

“The same place it has always been. Right behind my loyalty to the Empire. Which is right behind my loyalty to the orphanage that finished raising me. In others words I have no loyalty to the Clan. It was your promise that had my parents giving everything up to fulfill your pipedream of freeing Isle of Sky. If it hadn’t been for the Cheeseheads raiding Apollo six more then ten years. We would have been tucked in nice and tight with the rest of the colony.” About that time Celest gave me a piece of information that I could use to get Lord Robert Owens off my ass. “You’ve known for more than twelve years about my family heritage. Yet after the raid that killed my parents. You left me to rote in an orphanage. I was a threat to your plans then. What has changed?”

“What are you talking about, Mister Wolf?” Reverend Mother Katsumi asked sharply.

“The Owens Clan request DNA coding to join the colony. Lord Owens here has known about my family heritage for more than twelve years now. If he really cared about me or my family. He could have sent a dropship for us at any time. Yet he waits until now to show up. No offence Reverend mother but I smell a Titanium-Furred rat.” I told her as I looked Lord Robert in the eyes. “I just don’t understand the timing of Lord Robert’s attempt to pull me away from the Death Dealers.”

‘Because the Clan Counsel meets in thirty days to vote on new a new Home world for the Clan. Without you there to back his promise to reclaim the Isle of Sky. The Clan Counsel is most likely going to finally accept Empress Maiha’s offer.’ Celest told me quickly. I wanted to laugh. It seems that my AI was digging further and further into the minutes of the Clan Owens Counsel.

‘Celest what planet was offered by the Empress for their new home?’ I asked quickly. I needed this one piece of information to end this problem with the Owens Clan.

‘The Empress Maiha offered the Owens Clan three planetary systems, Nightingale Isle, Aeria Isle, and Halo Isle. Robert that is the entire Free Isle region.’ Celest told me with honest Amazement.

“Tell me something Lord Robert. Why haven’t you accepted the Free Isle planets for the Clan’s new home? What’s so damned important about a lost planet?” I demanded.

“They are not our home world. The Isle of Sky is the home of the Owens.” Lord Robert almost snarled. “It should never have been taken from us. It should never have been allowed to fall into the hand of the Wingnuts.”

“That is where you are wrong, Lord Robert.” I sighed. “The true home of the Owens Clan is not some planet, but our traditions. Those are what make us the Owens Clan, not some worthless rock orbiting around a sun.”

I could tell that Lord Robert Owens wasn’t going to back down as he started to square his shoulders for one more try. I cut him off. “No Lord Robert. There is nothing you can say to change my mind. Take some advice. Go back to the Clan. Vote to accept the Empress Maiha’s offer. Resettle our Clan. Then if you still believe that you have the right to reclaim a planet that has belonged to the Velmaro Consortium for more than a hundred years. Build and train an army large enough to take it without involving the Empire.”

With that I turned and walked back to my team. “Devil’s Angles, Black Saints, report to the Quarter Master. Full tactical draw. We’re heading for Apollo six ladies and gentlemen. It seems that our Emperor has asked us to raise a little hell for our friends the Cheeseheads. I say we give them a kick in the nuts for pissing off the good citizens of Apollo six. What say you?”

“Gunner you have a very funny way of telling us that we’ve got a one-way ticket to hell.” Tigger snarked. Then looked over at the Black Saints. “I don’t know about the Saints, but we’ll take this E-ticket ride just for fun.”

“You’ll not be leaving us out o’ the fun Gunner. The Black Saints may have come in second to you sorry lot during training, but this will be the real world. I got fifty gold credits that says we get our Indigenous troops organized and operating three weeks before you.” 1stLt Dan Strowman countered as he looked at the rest of his team with nodding heads.

“I’ll see your fifty and raise you twenty, sir. Thou I should give you a handicap.” I told him with a nasty grin.

“Okay, Gunner. Just what does that mean?” Iceman asked me with his own nasty grin.

“I got one advantage that our good lieutenants here don’t have.” I told my team’s Explosives expert with a lopsided grin. “They’re not from Apollo six. I am.”

“Ah shit. I take the bet back.” LT Strowman grunted. “No way am I competing with a CAWO who has actual firsthand Intel.”

I chuckled as the rest of our teams laughed at the man, we called Ace. 1stLt Dan Strowman only had one real vice. He like, no let me take that back, he loved to play poker. In most officers this would be frowned on. The problem was Ace never lost. You could give the man a pair of two’s and he would still take the pot. The man’s luck at the poker games was legendary.

“Relax, Ace. I’ll still give you a handicap. For now we need to head over to the Quarter Master. We got a dropship to catch.” With that we all left the stage. If I had stuck around I might have heard a conversation that would have a far greater impact on the war than any other that day.

The two cloaked figures had taken their time working their way to the stage. The smaller of the two threw back the cowl covering her head. “Tell me cousin. Are you finally ready to resettle our clan?”

“You were right Empress Maiha.” Lord Robert said with a chuckle. “He will make a grand Wallace when the time comes.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Maiha sighed. “The planets are still there waiting for you. The clan needs a new home, sir.”

“Oh, we’ll be resettling, Empress. Have no fear on that front. At least our families will be. As for the Bloodline warriors.” Robert said as he looked to where the two Death Dealer Special Operations teams once stood. “I believe that those two teams can use a little help. What do you figure? Two or three companies?”

“I thought that I ordered that program shutdown?” Maiha snarled.

“Oh, you did order it shutdown. You just forgot one minor detail. Family Tradition supersedes Empyreal law. The Owens Clan and our warriors have been Bloodline warriors going back to the very founding of our clan. Like the Wallace pointed out to me so eloquently. It our traditions that make us the Owens Clan.” Robert answered with a heavy chuckle. “Traditions that are as ingrained in us as the very air that we breath. One of those is the Bloodline Warriors.”

“Bloody Hell. Just how many Bloodline Warriors are under your command Lord Robert?” Colonel Wilder asked in shock at the idea of those feared warriors still existing.

“Only six Regiments, Colonel. Nothing like our glory days when there was fifty full divisions. Not enough to retake our home world.” Robert answered honestly. “But more than enough to raise unholy terror.”

“Thank you, Lord Robert. When can you have those two companies ready to deploy?” Maiha asked with a sly smile.

“I can have the entire first Regiment ready to deploy within six hours. Just tell me which planets you want my people to hit.” Lord Robert answered with a bow.

“Spread them out among the entire Highlands system. You only need to buy time for the Death Dealer Battle Groups to assemble and deploy. You’re to conduct a harassing missions only. No direct confrontation unless absolutely necessary.” Maiha ordered.

“Once again Death’s own Daughter has spread out her hand, calling forth nightmares of war from ages long ago.” Reverend Mother Katsumi intoned solemnly. “For some reason though I doubt that Exalted Supreme High Chancellor Innocenzo Juliana grasps the sheer size of shit storm he has started.”

“Trust me Reverend Mother he doesn’t.” Came the newest voice of authority for the Empire. All those gathered turned to find James J. Nakatoma standing next to Terresa just a few feet away. “Mom you should have ended this problem thirty years ago.”

“I had slightly more pressing matters to deal with at the time, James. Namely rebuilding our Empire after the revolt.” Maiha snapped then sighed. “Though you do have a point. I did warn the Cheeseheads and Wingnuts not to frack with us.”

“This time the warning will be carried out.” James snarled then turned to Terresa. “Which carrier taskforce do you recommend Terresa?”

“None. A Corsair class dropship can get the job done. I would give the honor to one of the pirates that are currently raising hell with the Cheeseheads. If there is one thing that I learned as a child growing up on a fronter planet. Never screw with the smugglers. Their ships have a nasty habit of turning pirate in times of war and always pack a nasty punch. I can name six off the top of my head that are armed with twelve-inch Naval Railguns, PPCs, and PPLs. Not to mention the missile and torpedo batteries they all carry.” Terresa smirked at the look of shock that crossed the faces of Maiha, Alice, Katsumi, and James. Only Colonel Wilder wasn’t surprised by the young Empress’s statement. “Like I said, nasty little bastards.”

“That explains why our Fleet captains always handle pirates with great care. Never going after them with less than a Frigate or Destroyer class dropship.” Wilder said with an evil chuckle. “Then again, only an ignorant fool takes on a Corsair without showing extreme caution. Those little ladies always punch way above their class.”

“How long to do you think those teams will be able to hold out against the Cheeseheads, mom?” James asked of Maiha. “Honestly.”

“With the Bloodline warriors to back them up. Three to four months. Why?” Maiha surmised as she thought about those troops about to hit Apollo 6.

“Good. Because this time I’m going to end the threat of the Gorgonzola Empire for good.” This time there was no snarl or growl in James voice. Only the note of finality in his voice. “I do believe it is time to unleash the Phantom Divisions.”

“James those units are last resort use only.” Alice hissed.

“That may be true, mother. Yet, those two-hundred divisions are more than enough to liberate the systems under that families tyrannical rule at last.” James told his mother honestly. “The Human Empire has never waged a war of conquest. Only ever fighting to defend our freedom. Now, we have been forced to either liberate the citizens of the Gorgonzola Empire or destroy them completely. There can be no half measures this time. We need to end the threat that is the Exalted Supreme High Chancellor and his fascist ruling party.”

“James is only speaking the truth mother Alice. Over the last few years, the members of the Independent Motherland Fascist Party have been screaming for the Chancellor to retake the Highlands system. Not to mention the seven boarder systems they lost following the Second War of Succession.” Terresa told her bluntly. “The Velmaro Consortium has been smart enough to keep their asses on the other side of the line. Not even the acceptable raid in the last thirty years.”

“Aye I can attest to that, Empress Maiha. The Wingnuts have been extremely quiet the last few decades.” Lord Robert grunted. “I believe that is has something to do with them still rebuilding their Military Complex. It seems that the Queen of Highwinds has a nasty habit of pounding their weapons factories flat within months of them rebuilding every time.”

“Well, considering what the Wingnuts did to her Kingdom during the last War of Succession. I’m not surprised. That woman always did have a mean streak in her for revenge. She’ll pound them into the ground every chance she gets.” Alice chuckled as she thought about the Queen of Highwinds. “Just be thankful that woman doesn’t see us as and enemy. Her mind is more twisted then Maiha’s.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Dania’s mind works on levels that even I have problems following.” Maiha chuckled. “And it’s gotten worse in the last few years.”

“Damn. Someone who can actually give my mother fits.” James chuckled. “One of these days I really need to visit her Court.”

“No James. Do yourself a favor. Let her come to you. Trust me on this son. If you visit her first. The Elves will see it as a favor. You never want to owe the Elves. For anything. Simply asking for their name can end up with a marriage proposal for your first-born child.” Maiha warned her son.

“Gotcha mom. Better they owe us. Then us owing them.” James answered with real respect. He had always wondered why Maiha watched not only her words, but the way she worded her sentences with the Elvin Ambassadors. Now, he knew why she acted the way that she had with those men and women.

“See that you do James. By the way. How did you get here without the rest of the Empire knowing?” Maiha wondered.

“The same way you did mother. Ryuk and the rest of the First Battle Group are out beyond the Kuiper Belt. From there we just used a transferred over to the Akagi and let her bring us in close enough to launch Terresa’s Claymore and the Wraiths. I got to ride down in the backseat. Seems she still doesn’t trust someone else behind the controls of a shuttle or fighter.” James answered with a knowing and fun filled smirk as the young Empress blushed.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Terresa. Your one mother-in-law still prefers to land by parachute. She always makes some comment about take offs are optional landing are mandatory.” Katsumi told Terresa with a reassuring smile. “Do us a favor. Continue to be true to yourself. No matter what your stubborn husband tells you.”

“Well, this will most likely be my last flight for the next year.” Terresa told both her mothers-in-law, and the Reverend Mother with pride as she placed her hand on her lower stomach. Looking up at James. “I’m pregnant, James.”

“OH, BLOODY HELL! No wonder you didn’t pull any of your normal high-G stunts on the way down.” James beamed with pride as he lifted her off her feet.

Maiha and Alice both smiled at the happy couple. Katsumi just smiled then held up her right hand. She made a small motion while intoning. “May the Goddess shine down on and bless this child. Blessed be.”

“I would save that blessing for those fourteen Death Dealers, Reverend Mother. They’re the ones who are going to need it.” Alice pointed out.

“The only blessing those fourteen individuals will ever be granted comes from the Gods of War.” Katsumi told Alice bluntly. “And only Death will answer their prayers.”

“Amen to that Sister.” Robert grunted as he looked in the direction they had disappeared. “But for some reason I have the very uneasy feeling that we’re witnessing the birth of a new Death Dealer legend. One that will match those belonging to First High Lord James Owens, Empress Maiha Nakatoma, and our current Empress, Terresa Cole-Nakatoma.”

“Not so Lord Robert. The legends that will be born from those fourteen Death Dealers will become ones that surpass all those that have come before them. They will go down in history equal to those of the Ghost Riders, Razorbacks, Wraiths, and Storm Dancers. I see a time when the Fallen Angles and Black Saints are the standard by which all other Death Dealer Spec Ops teams are judged.” Katsumi told the man with a sly smile. “They’re an unholy alliance the likes of which has never been seen.”

-----tbc-----