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

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Chapter 17
Dorsal observatory Ryuk, Apollo 6

James and Terresa stood silently as Ryuk finished his rampage through the Gorgonzola fleet. The last ship from the three enemy battlegroups was crushed under the overwhelming firepower of the 1st Death Dealer Battlegroup. As the massive warship settled into orbit over the planet James and Terresa began to plan their next move.

“Well, we’re here, James? What do you suggest now?” Terresa snarked.

“That’s the problem love. My family has already decided the next stage of this family outing. They’re on their way to the surface as we speak. They’ll slam down on Apollo like the ancient Gods of War. Then they’ll, no let me correct that, she’ll lead the Host of Hell on a rampage of vengeance across that planet. The Wave Dancers will push to the front and never look back. Those seven Sword class APSs well crush everything in their path.” James sighed and looked out at the fast-disappearing Raider class dropships. “Damn them. Why wouldn’t they just wait until the rest of the battlegroup touched down first. At least until the carriers’ fighters were free to provide escort for them.”

“There’s still one squadron that can provide escort James. Even now they are waiting for their final playmate to join them.” Ryuk informed them both with a chuckle. “Well Empress Terresa. What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

“Terresa will not be joining them Ryuk!” James yelled.

“Oh really!” Terresa snarled as her silver bio-armor flowed out across her skin. “I’m pregnant not dying!”

“Exactly! You get out there pulling high-G maneuvers you could lose the baby.” James argued back in an almost pleading voice. “Terresa I could stand lose you or the baby. Please just stand here aboard Ryuk?”

“Are you going to take the Wild Cards down in an assault shuttle?” Terresa asked him kindly. When James nodded his head yes she continued. “Then if the father of my child is going to but his ass on the line. The least I can do is make sure that he gets down in one piece.”

“But the baby.” James started only to have Terresa stop him with a finger.

“Ryuk, please run a medical diagnostic of me. Then factor in the addition of a second layer flight suit.” Terresa called out.

“If you were to wear a standard flight suit over your bio-armor. Even when pulling the F/B-elevens maximum g’s. There would be no harm to your unborn child. Add in the additional factor of the deadliest wingman on my flight deck. Plus, the rest of the Wraths acting as backup. No one will get within firing range of you or the Emperor. I expect that both you and James will be little more than a distraction.” As Ryuk explained what his scans showed James’ shoulders slumped.

“Let’s head for the flight deck love. I got a feeling that Raven and her merry band of Outlaws are itching to get into the fight.” James sighed in defeat.

“Good to see you finally seeing things my way.” Terresa said with a smile as they entered the Royal lift. “Though we need to head for the Wraith’s ready room first.”

“Ah yes, the venerable and feared seven-hundred-and-seventy-seventh Interceptor Fighter Squadron. I have to admit that the Wraiths have come a long way from the days under your command. I swear the only pilots that can command them in combat is Colonel Raven Nevermore or yourself.” James chuckled as he thought about the two mercurial women who have commanded the 777th Interceptor Fighter Squadron of Ryuk during their ride down in their lift. “Now that I think about it. She would be a fitting wingman for you. No one else can even come close to fathoming the way your mind works behind the controls of a fighter.”

“That’s because she is just as twisted between the ears as I am.” Terresa chuckled as the couple exited the Royal onto the flight operations deck of Ryuk. Terresa turned to the right and head directly towards the 777th ready room.

Ready room for the 777th I/F Squadron, Ryuk’s Fight Deck

Colonel Raven Nevermore sat behind the commander’s desk with a pack of Carson Gold cigarettes and a lighter next an ashtray. She like the rest of the Wraiths had returned after just one sortie against the Cheeseheads. Even now the air scrubbers were starting to struggle to keep up with the smoke build up. Though the day had gone as planned and they hadn’t lost one bird none of her pilots were enjoying themselves. Today’s sortie had been nothing more than target practice for them.

“How much longer until we’re refueled and reloaded Smoke?” she asked her XO.

“Fifteen minutes for refuel, another ten for full armament, for all twenty-one birds ma’am. Though Death Scythe can takeoff now.” Smoke told her with a grin referring to Empress Terresa’s beloved F/B-11A2 Claymore. “I got to ask ma’am. Do you really think that the Silver Eyed Witch will be joining us? I mean we’re talking about the Empress of the Human Empire. No way they’re going to let her behind the controls of a fighter in an actual war zone.”

“Smoke, I want you to think back to when this squadron was first formed. Think about the woman who broke every rule that applied to air-to-air combat. Do you really think that a bunch of courtly advisors are going to get between her and that fighter?” Raven chuckled as her XO gave her a look of deep thought then chuckled. “Trust me Glinda will be here shortly.”

As if to underscore her words the door to the ready room opened to the Royal couple. Raven jumped to her feet along with every other pilot in the room. Cigarettes, cigars, and one pipe were dropped into ashtrays. “ATTENTION ON DECK!”

“As you were, Wraiths.” Terresa ordered with a friendly smile as every last member of 777th returned to their seats and smoking. Here in this room, she would always be Glinda, their Silver Eyed Witch. Here in this room, she wasn’t Royalty, she was just another pilot. “We got an extra flight suit, Ghost?”

“Hanging in your locker, Glinda. Get suited up. You got twenty-minutes for your walk around. Any idea on our next mission?” Raven answered as she stood back up to give her friend and Empress a hand with her flight suit.

“Is seems that my mothers-in-law are on a fast burn for the surface of Apollo six without fighter escort for starters. After that it’s down to ground attack support.” Terresa told Raven with a nasty chuckle. “Hope you don’t mind playing wingman?”

“Better that than having you gunning for my ass in practice.” Raven chuckled as Terresa sat down to pull on the pressure boots that would cover her lower legs. “Okay Glinda what’s with the extra gear?”

“This stays between you and me, Raven. I’m two months pregnant.” Terresa answered honestly and pulled at her flight suit. “This is a compromise.”

“I can see that, Terresa. I also hate to tell you this, but the Wraiths figured that out last month. It’s the only reason you would miss a chance at a training flight.” Raven chuckled then gave the young woman a hug. “Do me a favor. Don’t do anything stupid out there on our way down.”

“Don’t having any plans along those lines.” Terresa promised her with smile as she put her hand over her lower stomach. “Trust me.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to spoiling the little shit once they’re old enough to ride backseat.” Raven chuckled then sighed sadly.

“What’s wrong Raven? Come on talk to me. You’re more than just the commander for the triple-seven. You’re my friend.” Terresa told Raven honestly.

“The Second-Gen process couldn’t repair certain things. Like the lose of my arm and leg.” Raven sighed and looked own at Terresa’s hand. “Or the fact that I’m sterile.”

It took Terresa a few microseconds to remember that Raven start off life as a clone in the Amazon collective. She hugged her friend and wingman. “Come on sister. Time to get the party started. I need to burn off some frustration.”

“You’ll never change, Terresa. Alright let’s get this party moving.” She turned around and lead Terresa back to the front of the ready room. The rest of the 777th had taken their seats leaving their CO and Empress to themselves. They all knew that there was special bond between the two. One that formed after the Amazon Rebellion. “Alright you apes. Listen up. We got a hot mission.”

“What’s up, ma’am?” Smoke asked as he reached for his notepad.

“We got a group of dropships on hot burns for the surface without escorts. In the mess is the Dowager Empress, the War Princess, Grand Lady Dai Etsu, and the aunts for Emperor James. To be blunt Wraiths. My in-laws are headed for Apollo six to pound the shit out of the Cheeseheads. Now, my husband being the good son that he is has assembled the Wild Cards and their APSs in an assault shuttle to join them. Like Ghost put it this is a hot mission with shit for intel.” Terresa told them all with a nasty smile. “Feels like old times Wraiths. This is just the type of mission we were formed to fly. No intel, and by the seat of our fracking pants.”

As one the twenty pilots of the 777th Interceptor Fighter Squadron jumped to their feet. Fists raised high and voices clear as day. “GLORY OR DEATH!”

Fifteen minutes later twenty-two F/B-11A2s left Ryuk’s launch tubes. From his main flight deck the assault shuttles for the Hellhounds blazed into the skies over Apollo shortly behind them. Even as the Royal Bodyguard assault shuttles converged on the dropships of the Empress’s vanguard the Wraiths were clearing the skies. Once more the F/B-11A2 Claymores and their pilots showed their superiority. Both in design and firepower. Until now the Gorgonzola pilots stationed around Apollo 6 had yet to face the deadly air-superiority fighter.

Even as the F-86 Sabers, FJ-1 Furies, along with FJ-2/3 Furies of the Cheeseheads rose up to meet them by the squadron the Wraiths turned lose their fury. As the twenty-two fighters split up Terresa and Raven lined up as a pair. As the two former enemies unleased the firepower of their fighters the Cheeseheads fell by the dozens. Even the members of the 777th who knew how deadly the pair could were on their own but amazed by their teamwork as an element.

Even at 5-to-1 odds the two women never once fired their missiles. Their used of cross and overlapping fields of fire destroy the slower moving fighters of the Cheeseheads at an unprecedented rate. If the Gorgonzola pilots knew that they were in truth facing both the Black Witch and Silver Eyed Witched of New Texas most would never have taken off. Even now the idea that the Amazon Black Witch might still be alive terrified most pilots. Even those who had undergone the Second-Gen process to become Death Dealer Claymore pilots. To be facing both Witches of New Texas in battle was an idea that only one unit could handle, the 777th Wraiths.

The few Gorgonzola fighters that escaped the wrath of the Wraiths would forever be haunted by the two words written in gold on their tailfins, Felicis Fossor. As they fled form the avenging fighters more than a few of them had to eject at altitudes well below what most considered safe. The main reason behind the ejections was due to damage suffered at the guns of the Wraiths. As Empress Maiha’s fleet of dropships neared their Landing Zones the supercarriers Kaga, and Akagi entered the planet’s atmosphere. As they burned they’re way through the upper atmosphere their contrails were lite up by the setting sun. Not even the remaining Gorgonzola Commanders could fathom the fate they now shared with the extinct Warrior Class of the Amazons.

Government House, Goulcrest, Apollo 6

Green Star General Foust von Reichenberg staired down at the map of the northern continent. As it stood his forces were spread far too thin to prevent the landing of the incoming assault. Even under force march conditions he would be lucky to gather even two APSs divisions, with three tank divisions and at best two infantry divisions in support. Not with where that invasion force was coming down. It was bad enough that more than half of the coastlines were currently in open revolt.

Then there was the stupidity of this afternoon. A full company of Power Suited Infantry were destroyed. The Human Empire is right to call them THUGS. Their humped over stance and elongated forearms gave the appearance of overgrown street thugs. They were poor copies at best of their Empyreal counterparts. “What I won’t give for just two divisions of Empyreal Land Warrior Armor. Not that they would have done any good against that damn Death Dealer.”

“What was that sir?” Asked his Adjutant.

“Nothing Major, just exercising my right as a soldier to bitch about a situation that our late Planetary Governor had left us in. Any word from High Command?” The first thing Foust had done when taking command was to send word to Arco dei Gavi.

“About that sir. It seems that we have been out of contact with High Command for the last twenty days.” When Foust heard this, he fell into his chair. Once his regained his senses he jumped back to his feet.

“I want those Com-techs executed before the sun sets today.” Faust snarled. “There is no excuse for us to be out contact for that long.”

“Sir, they were under orders from von Klaus to withhold the information the rest of the Occupation Force.” The Major stammer as he back away from his Commander’s glare. “And sir there is more.”

“Just how fracking bad is the full situation Major?” Foust asked with barely controlled rage. “I want the unvarnished truth.”

“Yes, sir. We currently have less than two months of operational supplies. That drops to just over two weeks under combat conditions. Our greatest concern along those lines is fuel for the tanks, APCs, wheeled vehicles, and aerospace fighters. Even with us commandeering the local refineries. They lack the needed equipment to match processes we use to refine our fuels.” The Major explained not want to tell Foust the full truth of the matter.

“What does that mean? Exactly Major.” Foust sighed then correct himself. “I want the truth. Don’t sugar coat the turd for me.”

“Yes, sir. To put it simply as I can, the fuels the Human Empire use are of a higher quality. If we were to try using them in our engines they would burnout in a matter of hours. For the tanks, APCs, and wheeled vehicles this would not be that much of a problem. For the aerospace fighters it would be deadly. The only offensive weapons in our inventory not affected by the deference in fuel purity are the Armored Power Suits. It seems that they are actually working at a higher rate of efficiency using the Empyreal fuels. Though the APSs that were captured by our forces on the first day use a power source totally unique to their nation.” The Major sighed as he thought about the vast gulf in technology between the two nations. Unlike Foust he was an engineer at his heart.

“Tell me something Major Killmore. Be honest. Just how vasty superior are the Empyreal troops to our own? Hold nothing back.” Foust asked him as he sat back in the chair put his chin in his hand.

“May I speak freely sir?” Killmore asked not wanting to anger his boss.

“Granted. When it is just us Killmore I want nothing but the truth from you. Von Klaus and his staff of sycophants got us into this mess. I will need the truth to get us out of it. Even if it hurts my national pride.” Foust sighed knowing that he wasn’t going to like what he is about to hear.

“I would place technological advantage of the Human Empire somewhere between three to four hundred years in their favor as far naval forces go. Their greatest weapon is those damned Shinigami battle platforms. As powerful as our latest model of New Castle battle platform is they are but pale imitations. As for their regular ground forces go the Empyreal Army and their Navy’s Marines are seventy to eighty years ahead of our own technologically speaking. If you would like I could break it down for you sir.” Killmore explained hoping that Foust wouldn’t.

“Please go ahead and break it down for me, Killmore. I need more information.”

“The Empyreal army and marines are broken into two branches. Combat on one side. Support on the other. This does not apply to the Death Dealers. They are a pulled from all branches of the Empyreal Military. The Combat branches of their army consist of standard infantry, jump infantry, power suit infantry who use the Land Warrior Armor.” At this point Foust stopped. “Sir?”

“Exactly how much better is the Empire’s Land Warriors to our THUGS?”

“To put it bluntly sir. A tissue paper dog stands a better chance a catching the fireproof cat in hell. Our THUGS are little more than powered and armed versions of their medieval ancestors. It takes four of our THUGS to do what just one Empyreal Land Warrior can do on its own. Their Land Warriors can also operate for up to twenty-four hours whereas our THUGS are can barely operate for six hours before needing recharging and servicing. Against standard, light, and jump infantry they’re fine, but the moment a Death Dealer or Land Warrior gets thrown into the fight.” Killmore just shrugged his shoulders as Foust nodded his head in understanding.

“The inadequacies of our troops shine through. Understandable. What about their tanks and armored personnel carriers? Do we have any advantage there?”

“No sir. None. For starters most of the Empire’s Armored Force is made of AI control heavy tanks. By that I mean eighty to one-hundred-ton tanks. Their tanks are totally crewless with bigger main guns, better armor, and engines that are ten times more powerful than they need to be. In short their tanks are bigger, faster, and deadlier than ours. As for their APCs that is another matter. They don’t use traditional APCs, but Infantry Fighting Vehicles. Their IFV is in truth a tank carrying infantry. Each one is able to carry a ten-man squad of regular infantry or a five-man Land Warrior team. Another advantage the Empire has in this area are the sheer number of mercenary units which are equipped with similar technology.” Killmore explained.

“I see. You said that our APS units are functioning at a higher rate efficiency by using the local fuel. Is that enough to offset the deference.” Foust asked hopefully.

“No sir. Our only advantage there is in numbers. Even then it is not enough to offset their technological advantage. If it had not been for the units we capture at the beginning of the war we still would not know just how much of an advantage they have truly have in APS technology.” Killmore grimaced.

“An APS is and APS. There is just so much you can change in their design. Just how massive of an advantage can they truly have?”

“Sir their advantage is one in how they control their Armored Power Suits. Their cockpits are totally unlike anything we have within our nation.” Killmore explained.

“In what way?” Foust asked quickly.

“Sir, the Empire uses some type of bio-feedback long term suit and helmet for their APS pilots. They literally become one with their machines. This increases not only their reaction times, but their levels of control. While they would still need the basics of pilot training with these bio-feedback suits and the cockpit setup a novice is easily a match for a master using a standard system. We’ve tired similar setups with our own machines but failed at each attempt.” Killmore told him honestly.

“Have we figured out how the Empire was able to succeed?” Foust asked bluntly.

“We have, sir. Though for our nation to make use of that knowledge. We need to win this war. Which at present is looking doubtful, sir.” Killmore answered bluntly.

“Out with it Killmore. You have an idea as to why we’ve been cutoff from High Command don’t you?” Foust ordered.

“The Empress Maiha Mana Nakatoma made a promise the last time we interfered with the Empire. I believe that her son the Emperor James has carried out that promise. Only he targeted the State Capital planets and the planets that are in our chain of command. With those destroyed our chain of command is gone, sir. Those selfsame planets are also our main supply planets, sir.” Killmore explained his thoughts.

“Tell me something Killmore. Are these just your thoughts or do you have some facts to back them up?” Foust asked as he reached into jacket pocket for a cigar.

“Thoughts based on facts, sir. The largest of which is the silence from High Command and the Capital. It is the only theory that fits with all the facts, sir.”

“Damn. I was hoping that you’re going off gut feeling Killmore. Sadly, I believe you’re right in your assessment. Just four of our state capitals taken out of the chain would cripple our ability to defend our nation or attack further into the Human Empire. The Human Empire’s greatest weapon has always been the seven-forty Core Cracker planet killer. A signal Core Crack has been known to destroy a planet. Sadly, we have no idea of just how many they actually have stockpiled. I’m afraid that our Supreme Leader has finally crossed over a line in the stars he should not have. The Nakatomas have never been know for their tolerance of fools.” Foust sighed before lighting his cigar. After a few puffs Foust looked up at Killmore. “Tell me why you did not include the Death Dealers among the normal Empyreal Forces?”

“Death Dealers are an unknown factor no matter they are deployed sir. When deployed on their own they are able to gather local resistance to their side in unparalleled numbers. They inspire the local population to fight against the current reigning political power. On whatever planet they land. It doesn’t matter their number. Just look at what happened today in the square. One lone Death Dealer turned the local street criminals into a military force strong enough to not only oppose our gathered forces but to actually crush them. When you land them in mass the fear factor jumps off the charts. Not even our Grim Reaper Divisions instill the level of terror that just one Death Dealer division can on the march.” The more Killmore talk about Death Dealers the more Foust realized just how out classed his forces were.

“I get the point Major Killmore. Death Dealers are just too great of a wildcard to actually classify. Oh, will nothing for it. At least we’ll only be facing at most nine divisions of the devils.” Foust sighed and took a drag off his cigar. That was when he saw the look on Killmore’s face. “What am I missing? Just how many Death Dealer divisions are there Major?”

“If our spies’ reports are even halfway correct sir, and I see no reason to doubt them. At present there are eighteen divisions per battlegroup. A total of seventy-five battlegroups. With another two-hundred individual divisions spread throughout the Human Empire. For a grand total of one-thousand-five-hundred-fifty Death Dealer divisions. Though there are rumors of another fifteen hundred such divisions. Sadly, we have no way of confirming the rumors or even the reports concerning the actual numbers of Death Dealers.” As Killmore rattled off the numbers Foust knew that something was wrong with them. Yet what that was Foust just couldn’t figure out.

“Stop right there Major. I no longer trust our spies. To be honest I haven’t trusted them in a very long time for one simple reason. If anything, they have continuously mislead our nation with false information. The same goes for our higher ups. The fact that we’ve been out of contact for with High Command for such a long time should have been passed down to the rest of us commanders.” Foust grunted looking up at Killmore, Foust sighed. “From about the third day of this occupation we have had nothing, but problems left and right. Those so-called intelligence experts told us that it would take at least two to three months before any form of resistance could form on this planet. Yet almost from the start the local population has refused to accept our rule. Why? Because we underestimated their stubbornness.”

“I never understood why they would want to continue under a Monarchy. Which is what they currently have. We offer them freedom from an oppressive Government but continue to resist us. I just don’t understand sir.” Killmore grunted.

“I hate to tell you this major, but the citizens of the Human Empire have far more freedom than our own. Remember that our nation is just as class based as theirs. Only we hold the Military over the civilian populations. In the Human Empire they place the civilian populations over their military. In their Government they have three branches, Executive, Judicial, and Legislative. In their Legislative branch they have two bodies overseeing their laws. The Galactic Hall of Lords and House of Representatives. Their Executive branch is held by their Emperor whose only real responsibility is to act as Commander in Chief in times of war. The rest of the time the running of their government is left to both the Judicial and Legislative branches.” Foust could tell that his younger counterpart was having problems understanding this concept of government.

“That sounds rather complicated sir. How do they ever get anything done?”

“It is complicated Killmore. Yet that complex system works in such a way that it ensures true freedom for the citizens of the Human Empire. They prosper at every turn. While our citizens have suffered under the weight of every Exalted Supreme High Chancellor rule sense Thaddée Dimont the first. That is over six-hundred years of oppression. We claim to be a Republic when in reality we are nothing more than a military dictatorship. Never fool yourself into thinking otherwise.” Foust grunted as he stood up from behind his desk. He turned and looked out the window. “We have maybe four to five hours before the citizens of this city realize that all of our combat forces have withdrawn and all that remains are the occupation forces.”

“What does that mean sir?” Killmore asked with worry.

“That we need to be gone and all records destroyed. Before the street gangs can organize their attack. If not it will be our asses hanging from those flag poles. I want a total slash and burn of records, Killmore. Also, if there are anymore hostages in our cells get out and load them onto transports. You’re to drop them off in the center of the farmers’ market. We will not be repeating von Klaus’s mistakes. The man was a fool.” Now that Foust knew the full situation under which he was operating began to make his own plans. “Our greatest concern right now is our escape from the city. Our best chance at securing our escape will be with the release of those hostages. Von Klaus should have kept a tighter rein on those thugs in the Civic Intelligence Department. If he had we might not be in the position that we’re in right now.”

The sounds of explosions from far off in the distance reached them through the window glass of the office. Both men turned to face in the direction from which them came from. Only to see eight rising clouds of smoke. Foust stood there sighing. “It’s begun major. Much faster than I expected.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Killmore asked not understanding.

“The gangs have noticed that we have removed our combat forces from Goulcrest. As strong as we have made the CID they are no match for the gangs of this city. Whoever has supplied them with their armaments supplied them with the best. If I had to guess those explosions are from fourteen-inch laser guided missiles.” At that point in time eight more contrails were seen streaking across the skies. “Ah. Here comes the next round of missile strikes.”

“Sir I don’t understand. Where would the street gangs get those type of weapons?” Killmore was amazed that common street criminals could be supplied with heavy antiarmor weapons of this type. It just didn’t make sense in his mind.

“Simple. They have a benefactor. One of the Empire’s High Family members. Most likely that individual started off supplying the paramilitary groups among the citizens. He did so slowly over a period of time. He was originally planning on overthrowing the local government. Then we attacked and they were forced to change their plans. Instead of using those weapons to overthrow the Empyreal Government they use those weapons to supply the resistance.” Foust sighed as a third flight of missiles passed overhead and crashed down on what could only be CID checkpoints. “They’re targeted our checkpoints. Damn it! Whoever organized these criminals has to be no ordinary Death Dealer. How could we have been so stupid?”

“Sir. I don’t understand. Isn’t this the type of war Death Dealer Special Operations groups are trained to fight?” Killmore asked trying to understand what Foust saw.

“Death Dealer Special Operations teams are trained for this type of war major. They’re trained to operate as exactly that, teams. Yet, a signal Death Dealer has for the last few weeks operated within this city on his own. In that time, he organized not only the street gangs, but the former police, the unions, and the paramilitary groups into an effective resistance. One that has now showed their true power. We can expect to see an increase in attacks. The man has to have a connection to not only this planet but this city as well.” Foust snarled.

“On that matter sir I believe I know who this Death Dealer is and how he was able to move about the city so freely.” Killmore told his superior as he pulled up a fill on his tablet. “General von Klaus had a spy in the resistance that was able to report on some of their movements and members.”

“Did any of those reports give the name of the Death Dealer?” Foust asked sharply.

“Yes, sir. A Robert Wolff along with a street name of Ripper.” Killmore explained as he read through the report. “Sir, there is something that you need to know about Wolff. He is the son of those two officers from the raid ten years ago. The ones that became more than just local heroes.”

“Oh hell. Not another Wolff. Please tell that we’re not dealing with a Wolff.” The thought that the Death Dealer behind the unrest in Goulcrest was the son of those two local heroes sent an icy chill down his spine. The Wolff name had become synonymous with one of the deadliest days in Gorgonzola Military recent history.

“If this report is to be believed sir. Then not just any Wolff. One that earned a name among the street criminals of the is that is both feared and respected. Sir there is a secondary report stating the street name as Whitechapel Ripper. Sir, I have several more reports on this Whitechapel Ripper. Each report all give the same description, and they also match the description of the Death Dealer that led the attack earlier today. I can only assume that they are all the same person.” Killmore knew that Foust wasn’t going to like his summation.

The sounds of eight more explosions around the city reached their ears. “Damn. They’re targeting more than just the checkpoints.”

“What aren’t you saying sir?”

“That last round of attacks was on the individual CID barracks. The next round of attacks will be on their motorpol. Only the next one will be a concentrated attack. On the outside I would say around sixteen to twenty-four missiles at the minimum. Even if they have to reload their launchers. They will pound that motorpol into a scarp yard. From there they will move onto their ammo and fuel dumps. Once those have been destroyed they will come from us.” Foust sighed and took one last drag off his cigar. “My earlier assessment of our time is far less than I had guessed. We have at best two maybe three hours before they hit us. Have the Mobil Command Post brought around ASAP, major. We’re leaving Goulcrest.”

“Why sir? We can still hold the city. Just order a few of our combat troops to return. We’ll put down the rebellion here then move out to attack the incoming dropships. Why should we give up our hard-won gains?” Killmore demanded.

“Because major. Our position within the city limits is no longer attainable. Those street criminals that our predecessors so callously dismissed, have come for their pound of flesh. Flesh that they plan on carving out of our asses. If we’re still here in four hours they will be the ones to hang us from those flag poles. After they’ve spent a few hours torturing us.” Foust grunted and turned back towards the window as the sound of explosions reached his ears. “Son of a bitch. They’re moving on a timetable that doesn’t match up with established timelines.”

“What does that mean sir?” Killmore asked as he followed Foust from the office.

“Under normal circumstances they should be striking once every thirty-minutes. These MLRS units are not operating under standard shoot, scoot, and communicate rules of engagements. They’re siting still and just shifting targets before firing. Wherever they are, they’re very secure in their positions. They would have to be to avoid our counterbattery fire. Yet in the last twenty-minutes this city has come under enough missile strikes for the counterbattery radar to lock in on their positions to within one meter. Yet they haven’t fired one round to silence those MLRS units. Those MLRS units are either under the best cover in the universe or our counter artillery batteries were destroyed during the opening attacks.” Foust explained as he led the way towards the back of the building.

“Sir I have to ask. Where did you learn all of this about artillery and counter artillery? They don’t teach this in the standard officer’s course at university.” Killmore asked his commander in wonder.

“Do yourself a favor Killmore. If we should survive this war and you’re given a choice between surviving in a PDF or the Empire’ standard army. Join your home planet’s PDF. You’ll must likely survive under an Empyreal Officer for a few years, but you’ll learn more about how an army works than any university can ever teach you.” Foust instructed his aid. “That was where I learned about artillery.”

Before Killmore could answer his commander there was a round of explosions above their heads. The build shook. The roof fell in, and his world went dark. He along with the two-hundred and forty some members of the Gorgonzola Military still inside the building died under the crushing weight of several tons of steel and concrete. Outside the city the four SEM-45 Heavy Track Multiple Launch Rocket Systems lowered their launchers one last time. The crews quickly loaded the next to the last round of missiles to be fired from these positions. Their next targets would be the fuel and ammo stockpiles. Once they were ready the four MLRS’s raised their launchers. As one the crews twisted the firing handles, and seventy-two missiles began their final journeys. What Foust and Killmore had no way of knowing was that the gangs of Goulcrest had taken up positions around the city.

Positions that allowed them to target each CID checkpoint, and their barracks with ease. Those same positions had allowed them to target counter artillery batteries. The same batteries were the first ones to be destroyed. The third target was the Headquarters for the Gorgonzola Military Command. Of them all it was the only one to receive the direct fire of all four MLRS’s. The last targets were ammo and fuel stockpiles. As those eight targets were hit by nine laser guided missiles each the launchers were already reloading for the last time.

As the crews raised their launchers into firing position secondary explosions began to rock the city. Their final target was one that Foust had predicted, the CID motorpol. Only it was about to be hit with all seventy-two missiles. Not thirty-six he had thought would hit the motorpol. Once the launchers were raised to their full height and locked into position they fired. The rippling flames of their engines lite up the evening sky. For the first time marking their positions for the world to finally see. Not that it would do the Goulcrest military or CID units much good. The impact of the seventy-two missiles did more than just end the motorpol. It put an end the Civic Investigation Division, and their Brownshirt thugs. When Foust told Killmore that those MLRS systems would turn the CID motorpol into a scrap yard he underestimated the impact of those missiles.

Taskforce Tiger, Deep inside Gorgonzola Empire
Bridge of the Shinigami Battle Platform Katsumi, 22nd Death Dealer Battlegroup

First High Lady of the Death Dealers, Commander Lady Saris Victoria stood stalk still behind her Command Chair. The crew of the Katsumi view her with great respect. The men and women of the 22nd Death Dealer Combat Divisions would follow her through the Gates of Hell. To a civilian the loyalty show to this woman was uncommon. Yet for a member of the Death Dealers this loyalty was common. Even to a person from Wallachia, Death Dealer don’t care if you’re a vampire.

“Lady Victoria the last of the Taskforce Tiger has arrive.” Carol Billings, the Commanding officer for the Battle Platform told her. “Taskforce Cabbit and Taskforce Yankee have reported in that have formed up in their assigned assault points.”

“Thank you, Carol.” Saris looked out at the gathered fleets surrounding her Command ship. In all their history the Death Dealers had never gathered in such massive force all at once. Not even with the Regular Empyreal Military had gather in force along these lines. In her Taskforce alone there were 9 Death Dealer Battlegroups, 28 Naval Battlefleets, and 28 Invasion Armies. Each army made up of eighteen divisions. The sheer military might gathered around her was staggering. The scary part was this was only one of five such taskforces. “Any word on Stinger and X-ray, Carol? I don’t want to make the final push on San Vitruvio without them.”

“What was it you said on New Texas, Lady Saris? No such thing as overkill. Only open fire and reload.” Carol chuckled.

“I knew those words would come back to bite me in the ass one day. Then again it is a policy to live by on the battlefield. How long until Stinger and X-ray are done with their sweep through their sectors of combat?” Saris asked.

“Knowing Lord Malcom and Lady Stephanie three to four days at most. At the most five days. I do know that two of their battlefleets encountered slightly heavier resistance than expected at the beginning of their campaigns.” As Carol explained the reason for the delay Saris sighed.

“Thank you, Carol. This has been one continuous run through the enemy territory. Crushing the opposition that dared to get in our way. I still cannot believe how easily the Cheeseheads have been folding over. I still cannot believe the reports coming out of the planets. Whole PDFs just surrendering. One PDF to a single APS pilot and assault shuttle. I would have expected more resistance especially the further we marched into their territory. Yet that has happened.” Saris sighed.

“I think I know why Lady Saris. The members of the Gorgonzola PDFs are doing their best to protect their home. If that means surrendering in masse. Then that’s what they’re going to do. There is also another angle to this whole mess that we never saw until we actually started pounding their asses inside their own boarders. This whole fracking nation’s government, and its society is nothing more than a military dictatorship. We could have sent in our Special Operations Teams decades ago and flipped the Cheeseheads in months. Those military dipshits in charge just kept pressing down the commoners. Like it was their gods’ given right.” Carol snarled.

“It would explain a great deal about the way the PDFs has be reacting to us. I know that their Naval Forces have been crushed in every system we’ve entered. I still cannot believe how easy it has been for our ships to crush the Cheeseheads. It doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t they at least be able to put up some kind of fight? I mean not even their battle platforms have been able to stand up to our fleets Carol.” Saris sighed in frustration.

“Fleet Admiral Danial Cosby proposed a possible answer to that question a few days in his report following the battle in the Rat Tail Nebula, Lady Saris. The way he put it the Cheesehead Navy is made of second-rate knockoffs offs based on out of dates designs. After seen what we’ve been facing I have to agree with him. Not even their battle platforms are close to being a new or original design.” Carol chuckled as she thought about Cosby XO’s words concerning the Cheesehead navy. “Nakatoma Repo Services. You call, we hull, anywhere, anytime. You need it crushed. We offer a full range of scrap yard services.”

“I have to give it to Cosby. He and his people have a way with a phrase. By the way Carol I have something for you. It came in this morning’s message packet.” Saris told her long-time friend and fellow Death Dealer. “Congratulations First Lady Carol Billings. Once we return to Empyreal space you’ll be taking over the twenty-second Battlegroup. Sadly, for me I’ll be leaving for my new posting with the Second Battlegroup. For now, I suggest we get back to work. We got a war to finish.”

“Damn. I never thought I would be one of the First Lords or Ladies. How the frack did this happen?” Carol asked in shock.

“Carol you have proven yourself to be true leader and loyal to the Emperor. I’m not the only one to have seen your dedication. Remember Carol. We are Death Dealers. Family status and social rank mean exactly jack shit among our number. Hell look at me. I’m a damned vampire and through hard work have reached the highest place in our military. First High Lady of the Death Dealers, Commander Saris Victoria. The first woman to hold the position following First High Lady Michael Starr. Now show me what you can do Lady Carol.” Saris ordered as she stepped off to the side of the bridge waving for Carol to take her seat.

“Planning on retiring Lady Saris?” Carol chuckled as she held up her hand. “It’ll take a few more days before the rest of the Taskforces are ready. Until then I suggest we hold here and rest up our forces. For some reason I got a bad feeling about the final push. One that will cost us.”

-----tbc-----