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-----

Chapter 2
Recovery Deck of the Dropship Singapore
Inside the rescue pod.

I slowly came to and knew that something was wrong, very wrong. “Oh, shit! Not good. Lilly, where are we?”

“Jason, that is a little hard to explain right now.” Lilly told me.

“Okay, lady, care to tell me why?”

“My outer sensors were disabled during the fight and following ejection. There is also a problem with the E.L.S.S. For some reason it has activated a subroutine program of unknown origins.”

The thoughts of there being a problem with the Emergency Life Support System running an unknown program was disquieting to say the least. “What do you mean a subroutine program of unknown origin, Lilly? Please be exact.”

“It is a program that is not part of my normal operational system, Jason. This program shouldn’t even be here, but it is.”

“Okay, Lilly. What do you mean that the program shouldn’t be here?” I asked the A.I.

“Jason, I don’t know how, but the Secondary-Configuration program for the original Omega Class A.I.’s is part of my own programing. I shouldn’t have this programing. I was supposed to be a stand alone A.I. system. One that was to operate aerospace fighters. Much like the ones used in Law Enforcement Operation units. The difference is that I was supposed to be an upgrade to an A.I. Tank.”

The more Lilly talked to me the more it sounded as if her voice was inside my head. I also started to feel more and more of my body. I was rapidly beginning to worry over these feelings. Then there was the very unsettling fact that I was now hostage to an Omega Class Death Dealer A.I. The most reliable of D.D.A.I.’s, but also one of the quirkiest as well. That is if, Lilly really is an Omega Class. There was only one way to find out.

“Lilly, I want you to run a full diagnostic of your program log, while displaying it on the HUD for me.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant, but you are not cleared for that information.” The moment Lilly told me that I knew I was in deep shit.

“Lilly, are you in contact with your immediate military superior?” a few seconds went by before Lilly answered me.

“Negative, Lieutenant.”

This brought a smile to my face. “Under Empyreal Military Command structure five-eight-seven-alpha-two, that would place me as the senior commanding officer on site. Am I correct in this, Lilly?”

Again, it took the A.I. a few minutes to find the answer. “That is correct Lieutenant. It would also give you the needed clearances. Accessing the needed information now. It will be displayed on the forward tactical screen.”

My smile over my ability to outsmart the A.I. disappeared as I read the first log entry. There in glowing black and white was my greatest fear. Lilly was not an Assault Class Omega, but an Infiltrator Class. The next part of my unfolding nightmare wasn’t being trapped in a Secondary-Configuration cocoon, but the fact that the Secondary-Configuration protocols were in full effect. The problem was that there was no local population sample for the protocols to work with. I was basically at the mercy of whatever the protocols can come up with.

Which were not good from the look of things. As I looked over the next program I wanted to shit my pants. The cocoon had seized control over the E.L.S.S. and the medical nanites. Unlike most medical nanites these were working on correcting my genetic quark. In short, they were already rebuilding me from the cellular level upward. The problem was I had no control over how it would turn out.

“Lilly, is the E.L.S.S. trying to rebuild me from the cellular level up?”

“I am afraid so, Jason. I know that you do not wish to hear that, but I cannot lie. I have no control over the E.L.S.S. As I have stated the subroutine program has control over that system.” The more Lilly told me the sicker I felt.

“Lilly, does that subroutine have a name?” I asked her.

“The program is known as C.O.B.R.A. Jason Cole. It was a program that was banned several decades ago for all Death Dealer A.I.’s.” The tone in Lilly’s voice let me know that she wasn’t happy telling me this. “Jason, I don’t know how that program got uploaded into my matrix; it doesn’t belong there.”

“Um… Lilly what is the C.O.B.R.A. programing?” In response to my question Lilly put the answer up on my HUD. Followed by an explanation.

COMPUTER OPERATED BATTLEFIELD REFLEX ACTION: Artificial Intelligence computer operated battlefield reflexes. Operations to be determined by the situation while guided by the host.

There was more to read, but I didn’t feel like it. I had already figured out what that program meant for me, and what it was doing to me. In short, I was in deep shit and the fan was rotating at high speed. Then I spotted something that sent a chill down my spine.

“Um… Lilly.”

“Yes, Jason.”

“Why is it that your voice sounds like it is inside of my head now?” I was really hoping that her answer wasn’t the one I feared. Yet, I knew that it most likely is.

“Because, Jason Cole, the nanites of the E.L.S.S. has built an Omega Class A.I. for me to inhabit inside your new cranium.”

“Oh shit! This is going to get very, very, complicated for me. You do know that my records strictly forbid me from have any bio-A.I. upgrades.” I asked Lilly.

“No, I was not aware of this, Jason. I thought that all Empyreal Military were authorized such upgrades. Why were you not allowed this advantage?”

“It has to do with a genetic medical condition that I suffer from called Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome. I don’t have the normal fight or flight reactions. It doesn’t matter what the situation is, I always fight and with above normal human reflexes. It doesn’t matter what happens. When I go into H.H.S.S. time seems to stand still for me. I can see and target more than fifteen threats at one time. I am literally faster than any A.I. out there. That was why I was assigned to the R&D squadron on New Texas, because none of their fighters have active A.I.’s”

“Suffering from such a condition would make it almost impossible for you to successfully integrate with a bio-A.I., Jason. I can already tell that your natural reflexes will have to be considered during combat situations. I fear that I will be next to useless during those times, other than as a secondary targeting computer.”

I almost laughed at the sound of Lilly’s complaint. “Lilly, you said that the E.L.S.S. placed an Omega class A.I. in my head for you correct?”

“That is correct, Jason.”

“Well, then I have good news for you. That is the only class of A.I. that is supposed to be able to keep up with H.H.S.S.” I take a deep breath. “The problem we’re going to have is how to explain this to whoever is waiting for us once the E.L.S.S. let’s us go.”

“I don’t have the answer to half that problem, Jason, but I do know when we’ll be free.” Lilly’s voice sounded more relaxed now. “If you’ll look at the lower left-hand corner of the HUD you’ll see a countdown clock.”

I did as Lilly asked and smiled. I saw that I would be in the cocoon for only another twenty-four minutes. This was both good and bad. Good that I would soon be out, bad in that I had a short time to come up with a reason for them to not shoot me on sight. Too many people remember the Secondary Configuration nightmares from the battlefields and the damage they left in their wake.

“Shit! That doesn’t give us much time to come up with a way to convince our awaiting public that we’re not a danger. Because if we can’t Lilly, this is going to be one of the shortest partnerships in history.”

The A.I. was silent for a few minutes before answering me. “If there are active Death Dealer A.I.’s I maybe able to connect to their network directly.”

“Oh, there are some Death Dealer A.I.’s waiting for this baby to crack open, Lilly. I can assure you for a fact that there are two Second-Generation Death Dealer A.I.’s on this dropship. Both of which are Alpha Class A.I.’s with full Command Authority if need be. You should be able to pickup their network even now.”

Once again Lilly went quiet for a few minutes. “Jason, are you talking about Captain Silvester Cole and Major Silvia Cole?”

“That is exactly who I am talking about, Lilly. Why?”

“They are both standing two point seven meters from our current position. While I do detect their network, I am unable to access it for some reason.”

“Lilly, you need to use the access codes for the One-hundred-fist Death Dealer Division. That should get you into their network.”

“One moment, Jason.” A few seconds later I felt Lilly opening the link to my brother and sister. “I have established the link, Jason. Good luck.”

I didn’t waste any time and tried the connection. I knew that I had to make my family realize that I was still alive in this cocoon. “Silvester, Silvia, it’s me Jason. You there?”

Silvia was the first to answer me. “This is a military net. Who are you, and how did you get in this net?”

I wanted to scream, but then again, I knew what Silvia was like. “Silvia, pull your head out of your ass and think about it for a minute. Just how many Death Dealer A.I.’s can there be on this fracking dropship? There was you, and Silvester. That’s it. Now, I’m talking to you on a secured network that is only accessible to Death Dealers. That means there is a now an ‘unaccounted for’ Death Dealer A.I. One that is able to access the comm-codes for two Alpha class Death Dealers.”

I was interrupted by Silvester at this point in my ass chewing of Silvia. “Jason, knock it off. How many times have I told you that Silvia doesn’t always understand the need for working off instinct. What I want to know is how you got your hands on our com-codes?”

“Well, that is a little hard to explain.” I answered.

“Then make it simple. Just give us the facts. One at a time.” Silvia told me.

“Okay. You asked for it.” I took a deep breath. “It seems that the scientist, the one that owns the fighter I took, used an Omega Infiltrator Class D.D.A.I. for its control A.I. The problem is somebody forgot to disable the C.O.B.R.A. programing.”

“Oh shit! Please tell me that crazy assed fracking program didn’t place a bio-A.I. in your head Jason.” Silvia begged.

“Can I refuse to answer on the grounds of self-incrimination?”

“Shit! Just how bad is it Jason?”

“Look sis, I really don’t know yet. It seems that I have a while to cook yet. The one thing I do know is that I am nothing like the Second-Gens or any Secondary-Configuration before. All I have is the bio-armor, what I don’t have is the internal weapons, or any of the defensive abilities of either type. At least that’s the way it looks right now. I haven’t been able to access much of the E.L.S.S. programing.” I told them.

Silvia came up next. “Look Jason I need for you to try and access that programing. It’s very important that you do.”

“Silvia, I have tried more times than I care to count already. I need the access codes those jackass scientists used to secure the fighter’s internal programing.” I knew that I was putting her in an awkward position, but I had to do it. She didn’t understand how fighters worked and neither did Silvester.

“Okay, Jason. This is what I want you to do. Relax and try not to fight any of the changes that the E.L.S.S. nanites are making to you. Do you understand?”

“Sure, thing sis. Just sit back and finish cooking. Which will be in fifteen minutes. Do me a favor and try not to shoot my ass after I hatch?” I joked.

“See you soon little brother.” With that the connection to Silvester and Silvia broke. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. I know there was nothing else to do and just let my mind wonder hoping for the best.

Outside the rescue pod.
Silvia turned to Professor Wittman drawing her sidearm. “I’ve a good mind to just blow your sorry fracking ass away right now, Wittman. I don’t care what your so-called security measurements are. I want the access codes to that escape pod and the A.I. that is on board. I want them now, not twenty minutes from now. Understand?”

“Sorry, but that won’t be happening Major.” Wittman had regained his composure and arrogance. “I and my staff don’t answer to you or that thug brother of yours. If you think that a Military Inquiry is going to frighten me you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Why?” Silvester growled out as his C.Q.C. blades extended from his hands.

“Me and my team are outside of the Military Chain of Command.” Wittman tried to force his hand with Silvester.

It didn’t work as Silvester placed his C.Q.C. blade of his right hand next to Wittman’s right ear. “I hate to tell you this professor, on second thought no I don’t. Your little research team is not outside of the Military Chain of Command. Not so long as you’re working with Military grade A.I.’s and aerospace craft. Now give us the fracking codes before I remove your head.”

“You won’t dare! We have rights as citizens of the Empire!” Screamed Moline just before Sylvester knocked him to his knees.

“Not only ‘can he’ Professor, but he will be well within his duties to do so. Oh, and just for your notification, this dropship is considered a sovereign state while in transit. What that means for you is this. The only person you can appeal your case to is me. I have more than enough reason to hand you over to them, and let the Lieutenant take your head now. You have endangered my ship, my crew, and my passengers. That alone could get you thrown out an airlock by the laws governing this ship. Now give them the codes.” Captain Stokes ordered the research team.

Wittman couldn’t believe what was happening. His whole career was about to be ruined by that stupid fly boy. Wittman mumbled. “Why the hell couldn’t he just have stayed in his damned seat like everybody else?”

That was the last straw for Silvia. She fired twice. Once into each of Wittman’s knees. As Wittman dropped to the deck weathering in unbearable pain Silvia leaned down. “He did it to save your sorry fracking ass.”

Silvia turned to the other two scientists. “I suggest that you two become very cooperative before my brother gets to play. His methods are less humane than mine.”

“Wait! I’ll give you the codes.” Kings screamed just as Silvester moved to stand in front of her. Unlike Silvia, Silvester had already had enough of these scientists, and their flagrant violation of an Empyreal Decree. He, as did everyone else; in the Empyreal Military knew the punishment for breaking that particular decree. It was a death sentence. Even as she begged for her life Kings was digging a data crystal from the pocket of her ship suit. “Here, this will give you full access to the A.I. I promise. Just spare our lives.”

Silvia grabbed the crystal from her hands. “This better fracking work, Professor Kings. If not, my brother will carry out the death penalty.”

“Don’t worry sis. They play games they will be the first ones to die. That’s my promise.” Silvester growled down at the three researchers.

Silvia turned to a nearby console and plugged in the crystal. Within milli-seconds she had access the command pod’s E.L.S.S. and rescue functions. What she saw there did not bring a smile to her face nor did it relieve her fears. “Captain Stokes, please place the research team in irons and secure them in your brig. They will be turned over to the Military High Command on New Carolina. The charges are High Treason, Conspiracy to Commit High Treason, and Conspiracy to Defraud Military Funds for the purpose of Profit for starters.”

Captain Stokes just waved for the deck guards to carry out the orders as he turned to Silvia, and Silvester. “Please, tell me that you’ll be able to get a handle on your brother’s transformation, Major.”

Silvia sighed before answering the dropship Captain. “Captain Stokes this is one time that I wish I could give you the answer you want. I can tell you though that our brother is alive in there. And that he is somewhat in control of the transformation and when he is due to hatch. Outside of that I can’t tell you jack shit about what is going on inside of that cocoon.”

“Oh, wonderful. Any more good news there Doctor?” Stokes snarked. Silvia and Silvester both chuckled at the Captain’s ability to face the ugly truth. “Sorry about that snide remark Major. It’s just that I have seen what happens when one of those babies goes critical on a battlefield.”

“Well, I can tell you this much Captain Stokes. The Secondary-Configuration that is inside that cocoon is not armed. In fact, outside of the upgraded D.D.A.I. and bio-armor our brother is going to be the most unremarkable Secondary-Configuration in the history of our military.” Silvia told him with a sigh of relief.

“Excuse me, Major, but you sound almost relieved by this fact. Care to explain?” Stokes press for an answer.

“I am sorry, Captain, but as a Doctor, even a Military one, I am required by law to protect the privacy of a patient. And my brother is currently under my care.” Silvia knew that it was thin, but she had to keep a lid on Jason’s medical records.

“I see. Does this happen to have anything to do with the fact that your brother failed to have a bio-A.I. when he boarded my ship? Or, maybe, how he was able to fly an aerospace fighter without one? As I reminded Wittman and his team. I am the final authority aboard this ship until we touchdown. So, you can just stow that garbage about doctor-patient privilege.” Stokes knew he was pushing things, but he knew that he had to have those answers to protect his ship.

Silvester knew where the Captain was going and stepped into head-off the upcoming explosion by Silvia. “Captain, this is one time that there is more than just medical doctor-patient privilege going on here. This is also a matter of Military Security.”

“And just what the hell does that mean?” Stokes may be in charge aboard the Singapore, but there was something about Captain Cole’s attitude. An attitude that said he needed to back-off before he ended up dead.

“What that means is my brother’s medical records are classified. Understood?” Silvester snapped.

“Understood, Captain Cole. But if we’re going to play that game then we’re changing course. Your brother is not getting off at New Texas. You, your sister, him, and those half-ass scientists are all getting off on New Carolina.” With that Stokes turned and stormed off the recovery deck.

“Sy, do you think he’s pissed off at us?” Silvia asked of her twin.

“Oh yeah, sis. He’s pissed. He didn’t like getting shutdown like that. Now, what’s so all fired important about keeping Jason’s med records secret?”

Silvia switched over to their network coms before answering. “Sy, Jason suffers from Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome. That’s why he’s so damned good as a pilot, without having an A.I. The problem comes when he is under pressure. His mind and reflexes work faster than any normal A.I. can keep up with. I told you this already.”

“Silvia, I still don’t understand what the big deal is. Just what is this Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome?” Silvester asked her with some heat.

“H.H.S.S. is a genetic disorder that effects the nervous system, reflexes, and mental response time of the patient. Remember when I told you that Jason could only be fitted with an Omega Class A.I.?” Silvester nodded his head yes. “The reason for that is to prevent A.I. burnout.”

“Wait a minute, sis. A.I. burnout is a tall tale. Everyone knows that is just an urban myth told to scare the newbies. Besides for something like that to happen Jason would have to think and react at three to four the times the speed of a normal human. As for a Death Dealer A.I. it would have to be twice the speed of a normal human. Besides there is no way for that to happen. There are far too many safety locks in place to prevent just that.” Silvester was sure he was on solid ground.

“Wrong, Silvester. There is a way for A.I. burnout to happen. The few cases that have happened have been kept under top secret orders and covered up, but they do happen. I know that for grunts like you it is impossible. The same goes for A.P.S. pilots, tankers, and helo pilots because you don’t have to react to situations at speeds of Mach one or better. For aerospace fighter pilots the story is totally different. Their bio-A.I.’s have to be especially calibrated for the needed speeds of aerial combat. You put a regular bio-A.I. in the head of someone like Jason and don’t jack their nerves to handle the input from the A.I. you get burnout.” Silvia explained to Silvester in terms he would understand.

She didn’t want to tell her twin that H.H.S.S. and an uncalibrated bio-A.I. could result in death at the first rush of adrenaline. That was the true threat from A.I. burnout. Silvia had treated nine pilots in her military career for burnout and only two of them were still alive. Even then those two pilots were barely more than vegetables. Both were confined to auto chairs and had to use speech boxes now.

“Damn, Silvia. Is there anything you can do for Jason?” Silvester asked quickly.

“I can’t do a damned thing until he is out of the cocoon. It’ll all depend on wither he syncs up to his new bio-A.I. and what type, class, and grade of A.I. the E.L.S.S. sets him up with.” Silvia answered her brother.

“Well shit can this situation get any frack worse?” Silvester’s outburst couldn’t have been better timed. Just as he voiced his frustration Captain Stokes returned. He wasn’t alone either. On either side of him were two security guards for the dropship and they were armed.

“You just had to go and tempt fate didn’t you Silvester?” Silvia sighed.

“Yup, you know it sis. Besides, those pop guns of theirs can’t harm us. They’re Pearson ten-millimeter Carbines firing caseless flechette rounds. If they really wanted to threaten us they would have brought down one of the loader frames armed with a laser or something like that.” Silvester knew that the guards were not a real threat to either him or his sister.

“I hope you’re right Sy. Because I hate trying to pull bullets out of bodies.” Silvia growled at her twin just as Stokes and his guards stepped in front of her. “Okay Captain, what now? And what’s with the security guards?”

“The security guards are here to escort you and your brother off my recovery deck. I don’t need two more dead Empyreal Officers when I touch down on New Carolina. As for that cocoon, well if it opens while we’re jumping directly to New Carolina then oh well. I dump it out the recovery airlock. Your family has endangered my ship and crew enough Major. I know that our weapons won’t even scratch your Second-generation armor, but you have to deploy it first. That gives my men three to five seconds to kill you both. At this range that is more than enough time.” Stokes crossed his arms over his chest in triumph. He knew he had the Coles’.

That was until the coms officers came running onto the recovery deck. “CAPTAIN! WE GOT MAJOR COMPANY IN BOUND FROM NEW CAROLINA!”

“What the hell did you two do?” Stokes demanded of Silvester and Silvia.

“I notified Military High Command on New Carolina the moment I recognized that cocoon. As for who is on that SHST shuttle, I suggest that you pull your head out of your ass and get out the red carpet.” Silvia smirked.

“And just what does that mean, Major Cole?” Stokes demanded.

“The High Command doesn’t take kindly to people violating Empyreal Decree’s. The moment I informed them that we had three scientists that had done so, they issued the death warrant and dispatched that SHST. There’ll be at least two General Command Staff Officers, and three Judge Advocate Officers, on that bad boy.” Silvester smiled as he knew exactly what and who Silvia had contacted.

There was nothing like having a Divisional XO in debt to you for your life. Major General Carol Davenport, may be a beautiful woman, but she was not one to fool with. The woman believed in following the rule book. More than one Commander had felt her wrath for screwing the pooch while in the field. Silvia had seen the woman in action twice and both times come away with a new-found respect for the General.

“By whose authority did you make that notification Major? Last time I looked I’m still the fracking Captain of this ship.” Stokes snarled.

“On my own, Captain Stokes. As a Medical Professional in the Empyreal Military I do not have to seek your permission for medical emergency notifications of this nature. Let me be extremely clear on this matter. Not even you can overrule me on this matter. No dropship captain has that authority.” Silvia told Stokes as she got right-up in the man’s face.

“Fine.” Stokes snarled as he realized that he was beat. Turning to his men. “Put them away gentlemen. XO, go welcome our ‘guests’.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” The XO replied with a quick salute as he turned to carry out Captain Stokes’ orders. Taking the security guards with him the XO began issuing his own orders. “Flight Deck, secure our fighters, and make ready to receive the incoming SHST in bay four. Flight Ops, I want a full complement of security.”

As Stokes and his left Silvester dropped down onto their private channel. “Silvia, just how bad of a cluster are we in here?”

“Let’s just say that unless General Davenport has a member of the Royal Family with her Stokes and the Research Team could very well walk. Jason real fracked the pooch here Sy. He was not authorized for combat. I know what he did saved lives, but now he may very well lose his life because of his bravery. It’ll all be thanks to those three scientists if we can’t make the General understand.” As Silvia explained the full situation to her twin brother she noticed something the cocoon monitor. “Damn, something major must be happening in there. Jason’s bio-rhythms just spiked.”

“How bad?” Silvester asked out loud.

“I have to be honest here Sy. If they don’t drop back down to normal here soon he may not come out of that cocoon alive. He’s right on the edge.” The note of concern in Silvia’s voice was all Silvester needed to hear. He turned to face the cocoon.

“Damn little brother. Don’t give up now. Keep fighting, damn it.”

“He will, Silvester, he will.” Silvia whispered behind him.

Inside the rescue pod.
A slow burning sensation started in my fingers and toes. At first, I put it down to the COBRA program making final adjustments to my extremities. When the burning started to move up my arms and legs I knew something was wrong. As the burning reached my hips and shoulders the burning in my feet and hands became unbearable. I gritted my teeth as I asked Lilly what was going on.

“LILLY WHAT THE FRACK IS HAPPENING TO ME?”

For the next few seconds Lilly remained silent. When she did answer me, I didn’t like the answer. “Jason, it seems that the E.L.S.S. is replacing ALL of your nervous system with microfiber elements. That burning sensation that you’re feeling is your nerves being burned away by the microfibers. I’m sorry but there is no way for me to deaden the pain or block it.”

“WHY?” I ground out through my clenched teeth.

“It has to do with increasing your nervous system to handle the input from me during combat operations, and your natural reflexive actions due to your H.H.S.S. Without this modification you stand an increased risk of A.I. burnout.” What Lilly just told me, made me want to piss my pants.

The thought of A.I. burnout was something no one wanted to face. It was rare, but it was real. Especially for someone like me. I had been told back at the academy that I could never be fitted with a bio-A.I. because of that very reason. By this time the burning had reached my spine and it was climbing towards my brain. I finally gave up on trying to keep the pain in and started to scream.

The next thing I felt was a pulling sensation in my joints and long muscle groups. I didn’t need Lilly to tell me what was happening this time. I knew already. That damned program was insuring that no matter what happens Lilly would be able to keep up with me in full H.H.S.S. mode. That was when Lilly flashed something on the HUD.

“Jason, due to the modifications that are currently underway I believe that I now have a possible outcome for your transformation.”

“Just how accurate are we talking here Lilly?” Again, I had to grit my teeth just to ask that simple question. Not that I needed her to tell me. I had seen something similar happen to a friend of mine during their Second-Generation upgrade back in our second year of school. They went in looking normal and came out as silver eyed witches or, as they’re called, Claymores. One out of every twenty-five-thousand became Claymores, and I unfortunately was about to join their very rare ranks.

When Lilly showed me her possibility I knew without a doubt. What I saw was a porcelain skinned, white hair, silver eyed, half human, half elf, female. Everything I saw said Claymore and a damned small one at that. I knew that I was now passed being in a world of shit. I was now in a world of death waiting to happen. Only one in ten Claymores make it past the first twenty-four hours. Almost all suffer from A.I. burnout in that time and die from it. Those that do survive are so deadly they are placed in the harshest of battle zones. The kicker is that to my knowledge there has never been a pilot who was a Claymore that survived more than twenty-four hours after receiving their Second-Gen upgrade and passing flight training. If I get out of this, then I have twenty-four hours before I either live or die.

“Jason, I have been monitoring your thoughts, and found all references for Claymores save one. I have to say that your assessment of our survival beyond the next twenty-four hours is flawed. I have run my own calculations. At present we will not only survive that time frame but, barring any unforeseen complications, the next several decades if not longer.” Lilly’s voice was filled with more than just compassion or hope, but real promise.

I gritted out through the pain. “I hope like hell you’re right, baby girl. Because if not this has been one fracked up way to die.”

“We’re not dead yet, Jason. Now, I have some really strange news. There are currently seven new Death Dealer A.I.’s all of General Staff rank boarding this dropship, and one that has a clearance that isn’t in any data base. I have no reference for this anomaly Jason, only that whoever they are they are really important.”

I knew that whatever was going on outside of my cocoon was out of my control. So, I just put it out of my mind for now. My biggest concern was the fact that I had five minutes to the cocoon opening up. That was until I looked at the timer. It had reset to fifteen minutes and forty-nine seconds.

“Lilly, why did the countdown reset?”

“That is to give me and you time to sync-up. As it stands now, we are at a eighty-seven percent sync rate. We need to reach a ninety-one percent or better before exiting the cocoon to avoid A.I. burnout. Which, thanks to the reset we will now reach.” The confidence in Lilly’s voice put me at ease.

“Thank you, for the explanation Lilly. And, thank you for whatever you did to ease the pain. It’s nowhere near as bad as before.”

“Jason, I told you I cannot do anything to lessen the pain. The physical changes are close to being complete. You will find that your threshold for pain has greatly increased. Not to mention your reflexes are no longer affected by your H.H.S.S. From now on you will always have that level of reaction timing.”

“Wait are you telling me that I’ll always be in a constant state of H.H.S.S.?” I feared Lilly’s answer, but I knew what it was going to be. I was right.

“Jason, I do not know how to say this, but yes. Your natural state will be that of H.H.S.S. You will in fact have the fastest reflexes of any known human alive. That includes your fellow Claymores.”

And there it was the cold hard honest unforgiving truth. The only thing I wasn’t expecting was the idea of being faster than any known Claymore. That was a scary thought of the first order. I always knew that I was fast when I was having an episode but to have that same reflex level and awareness level all time was something else. Before, I was no faster than a normal human unless I was in the middle of an episode; now I was some kind of inhuman killing machine.

“No Jason you are no killing machine nor are you inhuman.” There was something in Lilly’s voice that forced me to pause. “Yes, your reflexes are faster than a normal Death Dealer. As are your mental abilities. Yes, you do not need me or my computational powers for combat. But you are still human. You feel, for those you protect. You care for what happens in the universe around you. You have a heart that beats with a passion that cannot be replaced. Your drive is all your own, not someone or something else’s. Only you can define how we go forward from here.”

I sighed then took a deep breath. “Thanks Lilly. I needed that little speech. It really grounded me there when I needed it the most.”

“My pleasure Jason. All part of the service I provide. Now. Are you ready to greet the world?”

Looking over at the countdown clock I was shocked to see that I now read only fifteen seconds to go. “Lilly how in the world did we go from having more than fifteen minutes to just over ten seconds in the blink of an eye?”

“We are now synced Jason. For some reason, the more that we interact, the faster I am able to sync with your biorhythm.” I didn’t fully understand what Lilly was getting at but, then again, my degree was in aeronautics not medicine.

“Lilly can you dumb that down for me please? Remember that I understand aero-fighters, dropships, and helo-attack craft.”

Lilly giggled before answering me. “Jason, please stop. You are far from being a stupid jet jockey. All you have to do is stop and think. You have access to all the information that I do. Once you do this you will understand my function.”

Before I could argue with her there was a heavy clicking all around my cocoon. This was followed by a rush of air across my body. It took me a second to realize that I was naked as the day I was born. I thought about how my friends had bio-armor and tried to activate mine. It wasn’t until then that I even dreamed of having that powerful tool at my disposal. I felt a rippling all across my skin from the neck downward. In seconds I knew that I was completely covered.

I wanted to hide as the cover for the cocoon lifted up and away from me. It was at this point in time that I realized there was a HUD before my eyes. “Lilly what is up with the HUD layout?”

“That is your own personal HUD system Jason. That is one part of the services that I provide. The two green triangles are your brother and sister. The three yellow triangles are members of the ship’s crew. The six purple triangles are the General Command Death Dealers. The one red triangle is the unknown Death Dealer A.I. Jason. I suggest that we give these Death Dealers a wide birth as a safety precaution.”

“No shit! Lilly that was one suggestion that I didn’t need. In fact, I plan on standing behind the cocoon until we find out who they are.” I know it sounded stupid, but it was the only plan I had at the time. Reaching up I grabbed the edge of the lid to the cocoon hatch. Then with everything I had I flipped up and over the lid to land on the backside of the cocoon.

All anybody else saw was a flash of silver that cleared the top edge of the cocoon to hide on the other side. Sylvia must have been expecting me to act this way. “Jason Cole! Don’t you dare hide from me little brother! Now stand your ass up and come out where we can see you!”

“Not until everyone identifies themselves. Sorry sis, but I don’t trust those gun happy grunts to not shot my ass on first sight!” I called back.

“Gods be damned little brother! No one is going to shoot you. Now stand the frack up before I come over there and kick your god damned ass just for the hell of it!” Sylvester yelled out to me.

“Sy, I told you not until I get the id’s for the rest of those Death Dealers. Especially that joker who is totally off the scale for the Command Grid. I know that he is no ordinary Death Dealer Officer.” I called out. I wasn’t about to step out and expose myself to an unknown. It was just good military sense.

“Second Lieutenant Jason Cole, this is an order. Show your self this instant.” Lilly gave the id for the person speaking and I almost shit my pants. Major General Carol Davenport, XO for the 101st Death Dealer Division. Better known as Ice Cold Davenport. The biggest ballbuster in any Division Command. If she is here that means the other five are her Colonels. There was only one man in that group that worried me, Colonel Holster McManus. Commander for the 209th Fighter Squadron. If he is here, then I am really fracked.

“Scorpion, you’re clear to land.” Yup McManus is here. Only he would know my call sign from the Academy. “Now show yourself Lieutenant.”

I still wanted to know who that one red triangle was, but I knew that I couldn’t hold out any longer. With this in mind I stood up and walked around the cocoon. One way or the other I would either live or die in the next few seconds. As I stepped into view of the General and her Command Staff I almost lost it. There standing next to my brother and sister was the one person that had no right to be anywhere near a battle zone. The one person that was in every Empyreal family portrait in the Empire. The one person you would have to be dead to not know who he was. Not that it mattered much to me, in my eyes he was just another royal pain in the ass.

I will admit that I don’t have a use for the royals and High Families. In fact, it was my very attitude toward my classmates who were High Family that got me in a lot of trouble back at the academy. And here was the embodiment of my hate for the royals standing in front of me. I knew that my record proceeds me like a plague warning and he, along with those seven General Officers, had access to it. I stand as straight and tall as I can then bow towards the Major that held my fate in his hands.

“It is an honor Prince Nakatoma.” There before me was Prince James J. Nakatoma. The heir apparent for the Empire. First son of Empress Maiha Nakatoma and the War Princess Alison Nakatoma, undisputed rulers of the Human Empire. And the man who Lilly had tagged with the red triangle and the greatest threat to my life.

My brother Sylvester put my thoughts into words. “Well, shit. There goes the neighborhood. Sylvia, how are we going to tell mom she has a new daughter? One that is a damned Claymore on top of everything else.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 3
Recovery Deck of the Dropship Singapore
Prince James J. Nakatoma stared at the beautiful silver haired and eyed young female that stood before him. He could not believe his own eyes. He had heard of Claymores but had yet to meet one. The young lady standing before him was without a doubt a Claymore the problem was, how the hell did this happen. He had pulled Jason Cole’s record during the flight to meet the Singapore. He knew that Lieutenant Jason Cole was under medical orders preventing him from having the standard bio-A.I. upgrade.

Sylvia walked up to her brother Jason slowly. “Jason is that really you?”

“Yeah, it’s me Sylvia. Don’t ask me how it happened. I still haven’t figured that one out yet. Frack, I can’t even tell you what went wrong. The last thing I remember is going head-to-head with that all-black KV-81 Sturmgewehr. Then the escape pod ejecting. The slam of G-forces knocked me out. After that I woke up inside of that cocoon over there. Now, you want to tell me why we have half the General Staff for the one-oh-first and the crown prince out here?” Jason almost snapped.

“I’ll answer that Lieutenant.” James answered. “It seems that the aerospace fighter that you used was outfitted with an illegal A.I. One that was never supposed to be anywhere near a fighter like the one you used to gain your status as an Ace.”

“Excuse me your Highness, but that doesn’t explain how I ended up with a bio-A.I. stuffed in my head. Or the full Secondary-Configuration upgrade. One that came with a sex change in the process.” Jason snapped. “It also doesn’t explain why you and the General are all the way out here?

“The A.I. in question is an Omega Class Infiltrator, Lieutenant. Those are restricted, for use, by Empyreal Decree. For a damned good reason. The research team that was in charge of the A.I. driven fighter project broke that decree, Lieutenant Cole. As for why the Crown Prince is here. He is here to pass judgement if need be.” The harshness of General Davenport’s voice dropped the temperature of the recovery deck to that of the vacuum outside the ship.

There would be no doubting of her next command. “Captain Stokes please set aside an area that we may use for a full Military Tribunal and Empyreal Hearing.”

The thought of ‘Oh shit! This is really going to happen.’ Ran through Jason’s mind. he had been so shocked by this abrupt change in direction, he didn’t hear the first half of the Prince’s question. “… or do you need medical attention?”

“Excuse me sir, but would you mind repeating that?” Jason asked the Prince.

Jason smiled at the young Lieutenant. “I asked if your alright Lieutenant Cole or do you need medical attention? You seem to be rather pale right now.”

Jason swallowed hard. “No sir. I am just shocked by what the General told me, sir.”

“So the sudden change in gender is not effecting you?” Colonel McManus asked me.

“No sir, Colonel. I know that it should, but I would rather be alive and female. Then male and dead. Which I surely would be if not for Lilly and her operating system. It was her actions that saved my life, by ejecting the escape pod.” Jason answered Colonel McManus truthfully.

“Jason, who is Lilly?” Sylvia asked her.

“Oh that’s what I named my A.I. Sylvia. I figured if we were going to die together the least I could do for her was give her a name. I mean what the frack. I was taking on half a Wing of KV-81 Sturmgewehr’s with an out of date, out gunned, underweight, totally outclassed P-38D Lightning. Whose only advantage was an illegal A.I. and a pilot that had more guts than brains.” Jason gave her sister a small smile as she said the last part.

The smack that Sylvia delivered to her new little sister was expected. Jason had braced herself for the hit. Once Sylvia had smacked Jason she pulled her into a hug whispering. “The next time you pull something like that I will kill you myself.”

“I hear ya sis. Now let go because you’re scaring the General Staff.” Jason joked.

“Officers Cole, if you’ll follow us?” General Davenport asked.

The three siblings followed the General and her Staff off the recovery deck. Only Prince James waited until Jason was next to him before heading towards the door. “Tell me something Lieutenant. Did you know that there was an Omega Class Infiltrator on broad that fighter before you took off?”

“No sir.” Jason answered the Prince truthfully.

“Would it have changed your actions if you knew?” James asked her.

“Major Nakatoma, it wouldn’t have mattered if that bird had an ancient Commodore video game system for an Attack/Control A.I. I would have still taken it out. Those three Mustangs were no match for those Sturmgewehrs. They needed help and the best way that I could give that was in a fighter. I’m not an A.P.S. pilot sir. I’m an aerospace fighter pilot and a damned good one. My place in that fight was out there in a fighter mixing it up with those KV-81s. If that all-black KV-81 Sturmgewehr hadn’t been there I might not have had my bird shot out from under me.” Jason told Prince James with a passion that revealed his own. “If I ever get the chance to face off against the Black Witch again. She’ll be the one in need of pick up.”

“Lieutenant Cole, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I doubt there is a fighter craft out there that can keep up with your new and enhanced abilities. Not even those beloved P-38D’s of yours can do the job.” Prince James told her.

“I’ll find one, sir. Trust me on this. That bitch owes me a rematch. And next time, the bitch is going down, and hard.” Jason snarled. Unfortunately, it sounded more like a purr than a growl. Something the young price found rather endearing.

James had been raised around Second-Generation Death Dealers his whole life. He was one himself. As were his mother Alice and his aunts. He also knew the problem that Secondary Configurations faced, thanks to his mother, Empress Maiha. James knew that Jason would soon be hit by the very harsh reality of her situation. The first of which was the sudden and unexpected change in gender. With all the hormone driven instincts that came with her new body. Then there was the continuous presence of a voice that only she would be able to hear. Something her former life, training, and lastly medical condition left her unprepared for. James had listened to his mother Empress Maiha bitch more than once about how much easier her life had been as First High Lord of the Death Dealers James J. Owens Senior.

As they walked through the hallways of the dropship James kept sneaking little glances at the elfin young woman next to him. There was something exotic about her that he just couldn’t get out of his head. She had an unearthly beauty about her that had captured him from the moment she stepped around the cocoon into view. James had dated more women than should be acceptable for an Officer, but almost all of them had been political in nature. There had only been one true romantic encounter in his young life that meant anything to James. And that young lady was now resting in Fiddler’s Green back on Hades. Therefore, his dalliances were overlooked by his Commanding Officers because of the very harsh fact that James was a political figure under their command.

For the first time in over six years James was having problems keeping his professionalism towards another officer. Lieutenant Jason Cole was in his mind totally off the hottie scale. The problem, Jason had just woken up as a female. James knew that the young lady would need time to come to grips with her new gender. She didn’t need a horny male chasing her right now, let alone a Crown Prince.

“Tell me something James. If the young Lieutenant wasn’t a newly minted woman. Would you hesitate in pursuing her?” James A.I., Stephen asked him.

“Stephen old boy, that is one young lady that I would not mind getting to know better. Before you ask, yes, I know all about her record with the High Families and royals. Hell, half the people she butted heads with is only one third of the assholes I’ve gone around, and around with.” James answered his A.I.

“I take it that you have more than a little respect for our Lieutenant Cole? Who has the young lady had the privilege of pissing in their corn flakes?”

“I respect all three of the Cole siblings Stephen. All three of them have made enemies of the Winchell, Holloway, Crowley, and Vandamier families, that are right now my biggest pain in the ass for this whole system. But only Lieutenant Jason Cole has had the pleasure of putting a member of the Hornaday family in their place.” James told the A.I. truthfully. Stephen could also tell that James respected the Cole siblings for more than just their enemies, but their values.

James was interrupted in his private conversation with his A.I. by Jason Cole talking out load. “I can’t believe this shit happened to me. I wasn’t supposed to be able to handle having an A.I. shoved in my head. Now, I got one of the crazy ones and it is also one of the most powerful.”

“Lieutenant I hate to tell you this, but the Infiltrator class is not crazy. They’re just a little quirky. Nothing you can’t handle I’m sure.” James told her.

“Oh yeah, you get turned into a damned silver eyed witch and tell me that Major.” Jason snapped. She had finally reached her breaking point. Between the battle, ejection, Secondary-Configuration, change in sexes, and facing a General Courts Martial, had taken their toll on Jason’s emotional wellbeing. She couldn’t help herself and started crying hysterically.

James and Sylvester turned to help Jason. Only to have the distraught young Lieutenant turn and run for the Flight deck. General Davenport heard and saw what was going on. “Stand down gentlemen. Major Cole, Colonel Kelly, please see to the Lieutenant. Make sure that the Lieutenant doesn’t do something stupid. Colonels McManus, Mitchem, Wells, and Thorn you’re with me. I want those scientists in front of me before we reach New Texas. Captain Cole, Major Nakatoma, you’re with us.”

Flight Deck of the Singapore.
I ran to the one place that I knew I would be safe. On every Flight Deck there is a storage locker for spare parts. The fact that this locker is the size of a small cabin just shows how many parts are stored there. It also never locked and the perfect place to hide when one is having a nervous breakdown. I hit the door of the store room at full speed. Once inside I slam it shut and curl up into a ball on the floor blocking the door from opening.

I know that I will have to answer to the General and the Prince for losing it, but right now I just don’t fracking care. I knew the prince was checking me out as we walked down the hallway. At first, I tried to play it off, ignore it. I just couldn’t play it off after he tried to be nice to me anymore. I mean I know that Lilly isn’t crazy or anything, I just don’t understand how this happened. Sure, Lilly gave me the technical breakdown of what was happening at the time. It was the ‘why me’ part that I didn’t understand.

“Jason, please calm down.” Lilly said.

“You know something Lilly I really don’t want to. Can’t I just have a small melt down right now? I mean what the frack over? What God, or Goddess, did I piss off? First, they tell me I can’t go through the Second-Gen upgrade like the rest of my classmates because of my H.H.S.S. but I can still fly. Only I can only fly if I accept Test Pilot duty only. Then after agreeing to a ‘nowhere going’ duty, the first time, and most likely, only time I will ever see combat, I make Ace. Just to be shot down and end up in a damned Secondary-Configuration cocoon. All thanks to an illegally used Death Dealer A.I. that should have been nowhere near an aerospace fighter. When I finally finish cooking, not only do I end up as the most jacked up Claymore in history, but the damned smallest. Not to mention a cute one from the looks I have been receiving from just about every man on this dropship. But the real kick in the ass is, I have a High Family nobleman. No let me correct that, I got a damned fracking royal, not just any royal mind you, but the Crowned Price of the Human Empire James J. Nakatoma, GIVING ME THE EYE!”

The scream that ripped from me over this very frustrating fact must have drawn the attention of the deckhands. The pounding on the locker room door let me know someone wanted in. I move to the back of the locker and hide behind a set of steal shelves. Lilly gives me the id’s for the two people on the other side of the door. One is my sister, the other is one of General Davenport’s Colonels. I notice that both of them are medical personnel and doctors.

I wait for them to open the door and just come in. When all they did was knock again I realized that they were waiting for me to invite them in. “Ah the hell with it! Come in!” I call out.

As the door opened I was not surprised to see my sister entering just before Colonel Maire Kelly. Of the two of them, I only knew where I stood with one of them. “Well sis, just how bad did I just frack the pooch?”

Colonel Kelly chuckled. “Lieutenant, you have a very funny way of explaining a well-deserved breakdown. Shit I’m surprised that you didn’t pop your top the moment you stepped out of that cocoon. Can you tell us what brought it on now, or do you need more time to collect your thoughts?”

I took a few more seconds before I answered her. “Ma’am all I can say is that it hit me like an A1-E2 Skyraider with a full bomb load. I don’t know what came over me. I just couldn’t take all the stares from those men in the hallways. My HUD kept painting targeting crosshairs on everyone that just looked at me. I was in overload. Lilly kept trying to override my natural response to what I saw as hostile targets.”

“Wait a minute here Jason.” Sylvia said. “Are you saying that you’re controlling the targeting program not your A.I.?”

“Um… yeah. That is exactly what I am saying sis.” I answered truthfully only to have Colonel Kelly give me a strange look. “I know what it sounds like Colonel, but that is the way things are working between me and my A.I.”

“I’m sorry Lieutenant, but it shouldn’t be working that way. As it is, you shouldn’t be alive right now. There has never been a Secondary-Configuration Claymore. You are a total mystery to the Medical field.” Colonel Kelly said as she scanned me with her A.I. sensors. I knew what she was looking for and what she wasn’t finding. I just waited for her next question. I also knew that my sister Sylvia was doing the same thing. “Lieutenant where are your personal combat weapons?”

“I have a better question than that, ma’am. Jason what is up with your nervous system. Shit, what did that crazy assed C.O.B.R.A. program do to your muscles? I won’t even go into what happened with your tendons and bones. Talk to me here Jason.” Sylvia was almost pleading by now.

“I think you need to take a breath Major Cole and relax. Just let your sibling answer in their own good time.” Colonel Kelly ordered my sister.

As I sat there listening to the two of them asking me their questions I had calmed down enough to give them coherent answers. At least as coherent as they come. “Colonel all I know is when it comes to the personal combat weapons I don’t have any. The only reason I can figure for this is that I am a fighter pilot. If I get shot down I either die in the air or on the way down.”

The Colonel gave me a thoughtful look before asking me another question. “Could it have more to do with the need to increase, your muscle, nerve, tendon, and bone density to handle the operation of an aerospace fighter at extremely high G’s?”

I thought about what the Colonel just asked only to have Lilly give me the answer. “Jason I have been analyzing what the C.O.B.R.A. program did to the two of us. The Colonel can very well be on the right track for the modifications to your body. Then we start factoring in your H.H.S.S. all these modifications are necessary. Do you understand?”

Thought about it and had to agree. “Thanks Lilly. Yeah I can see why the C.O.B.R.A. went nuts the way it did now.”

Looking back up at the two Doctors I smiled. “Okay docs here’s the deal. According to my A.I. Lilly the Colonel’s idea for my less than conventional modifications being due to the necessity of handling flight operations is on target. There is also the little problem of my H.H.S.S. that the C.O.B.R.A. had to taken into account. Without the increase in muscle, nerve, tendon, and bone density Lilly would not be able to keep up with me during an episode. Oh, and by the way Sylvia, according to Lilly one of the little problems with my oh so lovely upgrade is that I am now in full H.H.S.S. all the time.”

You would have thought I had just smacked the Holy Reverend Mother Katsumi from the looks on their faces. Colonel Kelly looked over at Sylvia. “Please, tell that your sister is not referring to Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome, Major?”

“Ma’am I wish that I could tell you she wasn’t but lying to a superior officer is a Courts Martial Offence. I have worked too damned hard for my rank. Jason is referring to Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome ma’am. She was diagnosed as having the condition at the age of twelve. As it is not a disqualifying condition she still managed to finagle her way into flight school.” Sylvia told Kelly.

I don’t think that either of them noticed that I winced when they used the feminine to describe me. Every time I heard ‘her, she, sister,’ or any other female pronoun I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Lilly must have picked up on my distress and decided to force me to confront my new sexual situation.

“Jason, I know that you do not wish to discuss this, but the fact remains. You are now a female. Your approximate physical age is seventeen. And due to the physical modifications by the COBRA program is now fixed. I know that you wish this had not happened to you, but it has. I only want to know what you are going to do. Are you going to curl up in a ball and hide from the universe? Or are you going to face this head on and with it, the universe as the hard charging, devil may care, hot shot pilot that in their first engagement earned Ace against fracking stupid odds?”

I wanted to tell Lilly to go frack off, and that she had to be wrong about me not aging. But for some reason I knew that she was right. “Lilly am I going to have to deal with you nagging me like this from now on?”

“Yes, most likely, but only when you’re letting yourself get sucked into a scene like the one that nearly consumed you like this last one. Look Jason, I have a suggestion for you. One that you’re not going to like.”

I sighed as I had a pretty good idea of what she was about to suggest. “Lilly have you ever heard of the twin goddess of Justice and Vengeance?”

“There is a reference in the data on Claymores that I found earlier. Are you speaking of Terresa and Lilith of the ancient Isle of Sky myths?”

“That is exactly who I am talking about. Do you think that I can pull off the whole goddess name?”

“Which shall you be dear sister? Terresa the goddess of Justice? Or the Vengeful goddess Lilith her twin sister?”

I know I am smiling as I answer Lilly. “I thought you would have figured it out all ready Lilly. After all, the diminutive of Lilith is Lilly after all.”

I clear my throat to get the two arguing doctor’s attentions, while Lilly goes on a tirade about who was I to call her a vindictive bitch inside my head. “Excuse me doctors but I believe that to make things easier for everyone around that it would be best to change my name. I mean do I look like a Jason to you?” As I asked them this I stood up and held my arms to the side at shoulder height.

Sylvia just sighed as she pulled me into a hug. “Okay Jason what brought this on? I know you all too fracking well. You don’t do impulsive. Wait let me amend that, outside of combat and flying you don’t do impulsive.”

Colonel Kelly looked over at my sister. “I take it, that your younger sibling is not known for prudence or patience?”

“Jason is about as prudent as a loaded PPC in the face and as patient as a Bathonian nighthawk on the hunt on most days. When Jason gives you a half smile, start to worry. When the half small becomes a full one, start looking for the exits. If you ever see a toothy smile, run. Run as fast as you can because a shit storm of epic proportions is about to make planet fall.” I wanted to pound Sylvia as she just smirked at her description of my character but with the Colonel there I couldn’t.

“Damn it! Sylvia! I am not that bad!” I snapped.

“Then what do you call taking an experimental aerospace fighter into a battle at over six to one odds?” Colonel Kelly asked.

“A tactical decision between being blown to kingdom come for certain and giving my family and the passengers aboard this ship a chance to get away. I am a Fighter Pilot ma’am. My battle station is and always will be in the cockpit of a fighter. If I die in combat it will be breaking the sound barrier with guns blazing and my ass set on fire.” Even as I answered Colonel Kelly, I knew that I would do the same every time I was put in that situation. I also knew that I would now be hunting the feelings I got from my first combat experience.

“Major, I find that your youngest sibling is like most other young fighter pilots.” Kelly then looked me in the eye. “Lieutenant, I would like to give you a piece of advice. There is an old saying, very old saying. There are old pilots. There are bold pilots. But there are no old, bold, pilots.”

I got the hint Colonel Kelly so beautifully gave me. “Yes ma’am. I read you load and clear. I pulled a boneheaded stunt by just taking the first fighter I found.”

“Now, you’re thinking Lieutenant Cole. As for taking on those ridiculous odds, you will find that most pilots would have done the same thing. For some reason, you lot just cannot sit still when they can drive a fighter.” Kelly just chuckles.

“Ma’am, you can say that again.” I smirked. While my sister just rolled her eyes.

“Now that we have that settled, what do you want us to call you now?” Sylvia asked.

“I might as well make a statement with my new look sis. Do you remember mom’s stories from when we were kids? You know the ones about the ancient gods and goddesses. I have an A.I. named Lilly, I figured I would go with Terresa.”

I guessed that Colonel Kelly didn’t understand the reference, but Sylvia sure as hell did. “The twin goddesses of Justice and Vengeance. Kind of befitting as they were said to deliver death from above.”

Colonel Kelly looked over at Sylvia. “May I know to who this goddess is that you are referring to Major?”

“Back on ancient Earth there was a place called the Isle of Sky. Among the peoples’ many gods and goddesses were a set of twin girls born to the goddess of Truth, Annette. The two girls were known for their compassion and fiery tempers. But, above all they were known for their beauty.” The smile played across Sylvia’s face as she remembered the story our mother told us as children. “When they came of age, each girl took on a different aspect of the law. One became Justice the other Vengeance. The only way to tell the two apart was by the swords that they carried. Two Claymores of deferent metals. One black as night, the other bright as day.”

“Who carried which?” Kelly asked with true interest.

“Nobody really knows the answer to that, Colonel. Only that those were the weapons of the twin goddesses. They and their story have faded into legend now. All we have left are their names and their description. Which Terresa is the spitting image of, unfortunately. Her pure white hair, silver eyes, and elfin looks would mark her as one of their disciples in those ancient times.” Sylvia answered Colonel Kelly.

I watched as Kelly got a thoughtful look on her face. “There are currently fifty-three Claymores stationed throughout the Empire. Almost all of them appear similar to your sister, Major. Can you maybe explain why she is the only one that doesn’t have the standard weapons of every Second-Generation Death Dealer?”

“I think that I can answer that, ma’am.” I spoke up before Sylvia got herself in over her head. “It has to do with the E.L.S.S. in that escape pod and the C.O.B.R.A. program that changed me. Neither of them had the needed parameters for a full conversion. All the two programs could do was save my life and ensure that I would be able to survive more than twenty-four hours.”

“Damn! That changes matters greatly. We need to get to the Courts Martial fast. Do you think you can hold things together enough to testify Lieutenant?” the look on Kelly’s face let me know that the shit just hit the fan.

“I can keep my shit together, ma’am. At least long enough to put those three jackasses behind bars or on the chopping block. I do have one last question before we rejoin the Courts Martial. How is it that the General and her staff could be here so quickly? I know that it is a five-hour trip from New Texas. Even using a SHST it would take three hours.” I could tell that the two of them didn’t want to answer that question just then. “Cough up, sis.”

“Fine. Alright little sister, I’ll tell you. It took the recovery crews more than two and half hours to find your pod and another half hour to recover you. Why do you ask?” Sylvia answered.

“Well shit! It looks like I was cooking for a lot longer than I originally thought.” I turned towards the door with a sigh. “Colonel, I hate to say this, but I think we’re going to need those fighters out there before this tub reaches the Spaceport at Huston Central on New Texas.”

“Care to explain your reasons, Lieutenant or should I just take you at your word?” Colonel Kelly asked with a straight face.

“Because out there right now, is someone trying to stop this dropship from entering this system. It is just a hunch, but I believe it has to do with those A.I. controlled fighters setting on the flight line. And our unwanted friends from earlier want those A.I.’s in a major way.” As I explained my reasons Kelly and Sylvia got these strange looks on their faces.

Colonel Kelly spoke up first. “How long do you think we have before your playmates come back Lieutenant?”

“I give us maybe an hour, two at the most, before those KV-81’s come back. This time though they will not be alone. I figure there will be at least two squadrons of torpedo/bombers with them. The only saving grace we have is there has to be a heavy Carrier out here. That is the only way those fighters, and TB’s can operate this far out.” It took Colonel Kelly a few seconds to understand what I was getting at, with Sylvia coming in just a scant few seconds behind her.

“Terresa, just how do you figure all that?” Sylvia asked me.

“Sylvia, there was a jump inhibitor on the gate as we were approaching. Those KV-81’s were just waiting for us to pop through the gate. Then there were the two Mosquito medium class torpedo/bombers out there during the battle. Those babies don’t have the range or longevity to just hold on station for indefinite periods of time. They burn through way too much fuel just getting off the deck. So, they have to refuel regularly. Even for a normal mission they must refuel shortly after takeoff. That means there has to be a heavy Carrier class dropship nearby.”

“Major Cole, I hate to say this, but your sister has nailed the situation down as tightly as anyone currently can.” Colonel Kelly turned and opened the door. “Tell me what you need Lieutenant, and I will make sure you get it.”

I spotted one of the flight deck maintenance crew. “Crewman, do you have any replacement flight computers for the fighters on board?”

“Aye, ma’am. We do. They’re just your normal everyday combat control and security computers though.” The crewman could tell that I was a Military officer.

“That doesn’t matter crewman. Just pull those A.I.’s from the Lightnings and replace them with the standard combat control and security computers. We’re going to need those two fighters. And those A.I.’s are now evidence in a Courts Martial and possible Empyreal Investigation.” I told the man.

The crewman snapped me a salute and turned to carry out my orders. As he was walking towards the first Lightning he started issuing his own orders. “Gates, Willes, breakout two VF-110s CCS’s from storage. Carrington get started on pulling that other Lightning’s A.I. NOW! I want those birds ready to fly in twenty minutes.”

Conference room, Command Deck, Dropship Singapore.
James Nakatoma had been standing off to one side listening to the Research Team defending their use of prohibited A.I.’s for the past twenty minutes. The more he heard the more he wanted to just gut the whole damned team. He wasn’t the only one who was close to losing his temper either. The young Special Operations Captain standing next to him had already been ordered to stand down once. When the door opened to the conference room both men looked to see who was entering.

The two men had different reactions to the three women who entered. Especially to the white hair beauty who entered last. For Sylvester seeing his newest sister was not only a shock still, but disturbing. To him the idea of Jason now being a Claymore was more disturbing than him now being a female. Sylvester had a Claymore in his platoon when he was a young Second Lieutenant. That young man was deadly in ways that scared the rest of his men. To have one of those deadly individuals in his family now, set Sylvester on edge.

To James the young lady was beautiful to the point of being exotic. Then there was the way that she moved. He knew that Jason had never been trained in his family’s home temple, but she already moved as if made of smoke, and shadows. There was an air of deadliness that surrounded her to the point that made him want to test his metal against her. He could already tell that the youngest Cole sibling would be a worthy match for him. One that even his grandmother Dai Etsu would approve. James also knew that he would have to bide his time waiting for her.

As the two female members of Sylvester’s family join him and James to the side of the room, General Davenport kept her attention solely on the research team. She had to because if she let her attention wonder towards the silver hair beauty that had once been Jason Cole she would just kill the research team outright. As it was the charges against them were enough for Prince James to take the proceedings from her. As it was Davenport was seriously considering turning it over to Prince James. So, when Colonel Kelly approached her Davenport interrupted the proceedings. “What do you have Colonel Kelly?”

“Ma’am, I have performed a full biometric scan of Lieutenant Cole. It is my opinion, along with Major Sylvia Cole’s, that she would not have undergone the Secondary-Configuration process if she had not been exposed to an undocumented and HIGHLY illegal A.I. An A.I. that has been strictly forbidden for use by Empyreal Decree. I do not know what these so called scientists were trying to do, but if it had not been for Lieutenant Cole’s unique medical condition, she would now be dead.” Terresa had to give it the Colonel. The woman didn’t pull her punches and she wasn’t done by a long shot. “I hereby wish to file charges of attempted murder in the first degree, depraved indifference, willful disregard of human rights, and multiple violations of an Empyreal Decree of a scientific nature.”

Hearing this last charge Davenport leaned forward. “Doctor, do you have any proof for the last charge?”

“The evidence is on its way up here as we speak, General. Two Omega Class Infiltrator Death Dealer A.I.’s, General Davenport. Not counting the one that forced Lieutenant Cole to undergo a Secondary-Configuration that is a total of three known such units but does not count for unknowns. Which I am incline to believe there are more of.” When Kelly finished Terresa wanted to shit.

The reason for Terresa’s surprise was what Lilly asked her after Kelly finished. “Terresa, is Colonel Kelly referring to the other six units on New Carolina?”

Instead of answering Lilly Terresa stepped around to address the Courts Martial panel. “Ma’am, sirs, I believe that you should know there are six more such A.I.s on New Carolina at this time.”

“Excuse me Lieutenant Cole, but I need for you to identify yourself for the record.” Davenport asked in a polite tone of voice.

Terresa sighed as she didn’t want to just give up on her old life, but because this was an official situation that demanded it of her. “Flight Lieutenant Second Terresa Cole, formally Flight Lieutenant Second Jason Cole, service number one-nine-seven-seven-three-eight-eight-two-one, currently unassigned.”

“Thankyou, Lieutenant Cole. Let the record reflect that the Lieutenant was the one to give the new name reflecting her current gender. Lieutenant do you whish to continue to use the feminine for address?” Davenport was doing her best to nail Terresa down as to which sex she was going to use. Terresa just nodded her head sadly. “Lieutenant, we all understand the situation that you have been forced to endure. I for one wish to commend you on your bravery in this matter.”

“It’s not being brave ma’am. Just practical.” The tone of Terresa’s voice left argument as to how she really felt, or who she blamed as she turned to face the research team. “Personally, if you want to reward me for putting up with this bullshit, just give me five minutes with the ‘good doctors’ in a locked cell, and a dull fracking butter knife. After that I’ll be just fine.”

Everyone in the room chuckled until Prince James Nakatoma stepped in front of the Court Martial Board and General Davenport. “Major, I take it that you have something else to add to the investigation?”

“No, General, I have nothing more to add. Only to let you know that as of this moment this is no longer a matter for the Military.” The research team relaxed at hearing this, they figured the Prince was stepping in on their behalf and pardoning them. They just knew that their work with the Death Dealer A.I.s though illegal; would sway the Empyreal Family, if not the Military. “I, Crown Prince James J. Nakatoma, oldest son of Empress Maiha Nakatoma, hereby sentence these criminals to death. Their flagrant disregard of an Empyreal Decree once is grounds enough to imprison them for the rest of their natural lives. These people have not only disregarded that Empyreal Decree but have gone out of their way to violate it for a total of nine times. Use the airlock and eject them. They will not be allowed any drugs to alleviate their pain as they die.”

When the research team went to plead for mercy James just turned pulling his katana with a sureness that spoke of years of training. His strikes were clean, precise, and deadly. All three members of the research team were dead before their heads hit the floor. Pulling a silken cloth from behind his belt James wiped the blade of his sword down. “General Davenport, by Empyreal Decree, the record of these proceedings is to be broadcasted across the Empire. Let this be an example of what happens when Decrees from our Empress are ignored or violated. Ensure that all scientific communities, research teams, conclaves, schools, everywhere understands that there will be no mercy for those that do.”

General Davenport along with the Colonel’s there had been expecting the Prince to step in at some point, but not in the manner he just had. They all knew that Prince James hated using his title, doing his Empyreal obligations, and just about everything else that came with being the Crown Prince. For him to just walk up and pass an Empyreal Decree, after carrying out a death sentence tied to another Empyreal Decree, was setting a president for the young Prince. A president that Major General Carol Davenport would ensure made it back to the Empress.

“As you command, your Highness.” Davenport said as she stood up. “It will be done.”

Crown Prince James just nodded his head at Davenport’s acknowledgement of his Royal command. Then with a bow to General Davenport. “Thank you, General. I apologize for losing my temper in such a manner. I shall endeavor to keep better control over my anger in the future.”

“Prince James, I have been in the service of your mothers for the last thirty years. I even have had the pleasure of being a palace guard in my younger years. If I may say something without seeming disrespectful?” James just nodded his head to General Davenport. “I have seen your mothers, aunts, and grandmother lose their tempers, and to be blunt you have nothing on them.”

James just chuckled hearing this from Davenport. “You’re not the first one to tell me that General Davenport. Right now, I’m just glad my sisters are not here.”

Terresa couldn’t help herself. Her natural curiosity just wouldn’t let her. She just had to know what James meant by that last statement. “Why is that sir?”

James turned and faced her chuckling. “The mess would be a hell of a lot bigger to clean up is why. I love my sisters Ohmie and Ahmie dearly Lieutenant, but they tend to take after our mothers when it comes to putting idiots in their places. Something like this would have had them in ‘full-on, beat-down, leave no survivors’ mode.”

Sylvester had by this time walked up next to Terresa. “Trust me sis. I had a few classes with the Princesses. If they had been here I think they would have peeled several layers of skin off those three before throwing them out the nearest airlock.”

“I see that you know my sisters well, there Captain. Can I ask how you know them besides in the classroom?” James asked Sylvester.

“Sir, you can be assured that I never once made an ungentlemanly like advance towards your sisters. Not that the thought didn’t cross my mind. They are very beautiful after all. They do take after your mothers.” Sylvester answered.

“Sy, you are so full of shit that it is pathetic.” Terresa quipped. “Sir, if you ever want to know the truth about my big brother’s interest in your sisters just drop me a line. I got more than enough blackmail to share.”

James just chuckled as Sylvester turned red. “Captain Cole, take some advice. Just surrender while you’re ahead. When it comes to baby sisters they never fight fair and have no problem with ratting out their older siblings. More so than baby brothers. Trust me, I know, I have both. I’ll trust my little brothers, but never my sisters with the secrets of my love-life.”

“No offence, Major Nakatoma, but you could have given me that piece of advice BEFORE I put my foot in my mouth.” Sylvester snarked.

“Right now, Sy, that is the least of our problems. So, pull your head out of your ass because Terresa needs to fill the rest of the General Staff in on our situation.” Sylvia snapped at her brother.

“What are you not saying, Major Cole?” General Davenport asked as she walked up to the four younger officers. “What about our situation is so important?”

“I think that is where I come in ma’am.” Terresa started off. “We have a five to eight hours flight time to New Texas. Between here and there we are a great big target. A target that has a heavy Carrier hunting it and we have maybe another hour at the most before the ‘welcoming wagon’ returns.”

“How did you come by this information Lieutenant?” Davenport snarled.

“I put two and two together and came up with four, ma’am. By that I mean, two full Flights of KV-81’s and two Mosquito torpedo/bomber class attack craft. None of which can operate this far out without some kind of support. That means a heavy Carrier Class dropship, at the minimum a Midway class Carrier. We add in the jump inhibitor on the gate it all adds up to someone not wanting this dropship reaching port. The only thing on this tube of any importance until you and the Prince showed up was those three A.I. driven fighters. Unless Captain Stokes is hiding something.” Terresa figured she had nothing to lose so she put all her cards on the table.

General Davenport was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. She had already figured that there was something on this dropship the Amazons wanted. She just didn’t have an idea of what that could be or how far they would go to get their hands on it. Now, out of nowhere, this young Flight Lieutenant had given her the answer as if it was obvious as the nose on her face. Davenport had to put these thoughts to the side for now. The sound of a warning klaxon rang throughout the conference room and all through the Singapore.

For Terresa that sound meant one thing. Time to suit up one more time. Looking over at Colonel McManus, Terresa gave the big man a crooked smile. “Well sir, there are two P-38D Lightnings in need of pilots. I could really use a wing man out there. Care to join me in one last grand adventure before Colonel Kelly decides she has to have you put out to pasture?

“If anyone else had asked me that way Scorpion, I would have them clapped in irons. Seeing as how your reputation proceeds you I will take it as a compliment.” With bow to Terresa and a wave of his arm. “After you Lieutenant. Besides, it would be rude to not formally welcome our guests in a manner befitting their attitude.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 4
Flight deck of the Singapore Dropship.

I know that I was pushing my luck with Colonel McManus, but I wasn’t going out there this time without a wingman. As it was I knew that we were going to be facing odds that no sane person would face. I expected for someone to argue with me and McManus using the two Lightnings to defend the Singapore. As we took the lift down to the Flight deck I watched as he engaged his bio-armor. As all I had was my bio-armor to wear I was surprised by how well the man was built. He had to be in his late forties to early fifties and he had the body of a twenty-year-old. For some reason the Colonel made me think of Prince James.

I pull my thought back to the here and now as the Singapore is rocked by the heavy pounding of incoming autocannon fire. “Shit they’re early. How do you want to play this Colonel? I know my last plan didn’t work too well.”

McManus looked at me then chuckled. “Lieutenant, you tried to use a two-craft attack plan with only one half the plan. I looked over your recordings of the last attack. You did everything right. Your only problem was needing a wingman. A position that I will be honored to take for this fight.”

I sighed before answering the man. “Okay sir, if that’s the way you want to play this, we’ll play. Just remember I don’t think like a normal pilot.”

“Don’t worry Lieutenant, I already know about your particular way of flying. I have read your evaluations from flight school. Your Instructors had nothing but high praise and scores for you. If it had not been for your medical clearances I would have done my damnedest to poach you for my Squadrons.” I could hear the pride in McManus’s voice at being able to fly with me.

“I just hope like hell this ain’t a one-way trip, sir. I figure we’re going to be at two-to-one odds of fighters to bombers. If I add in the fighter escort we’re talking another sixteen birds at least so figure the odds at around six-to-one between the escort and the bombers.” As I was tallying the odds in my head Colonel McManus got a strange look on his face.

“Lieutenant, I hate to tell you this, but those odds are off. By a wide margin. You said it yourself. Someone out here wants this dropship stopped. They have to do it out here on the edge of the system. Like you said earlier there has to be a heavy Carrier class dropship out here. That means our odds are more like twelve-to-one up to sixteen-to-one. Depending on what they send after our asses.”

“Not going to happen sir.” I tell him. “We downed half of their heavy fighters and a quarter of their medium TB’s. The best a heavy Carrier can support is ten medium class torpedo/bombers, twelve heavy fighters, six medium fighters, and four fast attack light fighters. If there is a Super Carrier out there then your odds are right, Colonel. And right now, I hope like hell that all we’re dealing with is a heavy Carrier and nothing more. Because if we are sir, we’re fracked.”

The doors opened before McManus could saying anything more. Seeing the two Lightnings setting there ready for takeoff I headed straight for the nearest one. I know that I should have let McManus have that one due to rank, but I felt that since I was now a woman I play the ‘women first’ card. Even as I was strapping into the fighter’s cockpit, I had the engines spinning over. As I reached to engage the combat control computer it fired up on its own.

‘Lilly are you doing something with the three C?’

‘I already have Terresa. That thing is a piece of shit straight out of the reject pile. I just bypassed it and took control of the fighter’s systems.’

‘Care to tell me why you took such a unilateral action Lilly?’ This was one of the reasons why the Infiltrator A.I.s were placed on the restricted list.

‘Because that damned thing would have gotten us killed out there. That’s why. The computational speed of that three C is barely fast enough to control the engine output. The moment you put it through combat operations it would have crashed.’ I took me a few seconds to understand what Lilly was talking about.

‘Lilly, is the Colonel dealing with the same type of three C?’ I really did need to know if McManus was in the same boat as me.

‘No Terresa, the three C in his fighter is a newer model. He is not handicapped the way we are. Is the Colonel really going to be are wingman?’

‘That is the safest position for him in this fight Lilly. He’s a fighter pilot and his place is out there in the cockpit of a fighter, but that doesn’t mean I have to let him put his ass in the line of fire. How do you got the weapons paired?’

‘I’m still setting that up Terresa. Sorry it’s taking so long, but I’m having to work around the safety protocols for maximum effect.’ I know that Lilly was one of the fastest A.I.s there is in the Empire. The fact that she was having a hard time configuring the weapons meant that she had her hands full.

“All set here Scorpion. You ready to lunch?”

“Time to join the dance party, Falcon.” I shoved the throttles to the stops and released the grave breaks. As before I rocketed down the lunch tube and into the fight. I called out just before I cleared my cradle. “Glory or death, Falcon. Glory or death.”

His response was immediate. “To death and glory, Scorpion, death and glory.”

I know that my brother and sister didn’t understand when I said that to them earlier. McManus though, he did. It was like saying ‘break a leg’ instead of ‘good luck’ in the theater. For pilots we either die or return in victory. As I pulled up hard on the stick Lilly flashed the weapons pairing on the fighter’s HUD. I had to admit that I couldn’t have picked a better setup. The Pulse Plasma Lasers were on trigger one set to fire in a Gatling fashion. The four Particle Project Cannons were on trigger two and in a two-by-two over-and-under fashion. The only problem I had was my missile pods weren’t displayed.

‘Don’t worry Terresa. I’ve got them. You just take care of getting me a target. I’ll take care of putting those missiles where they’ll do the most good. Besides, I want some fracking payback! Out there some where is the bitch that blew up my old body.’ There was a snarl in Lilly’s voice. The fact that she was pissed off over having her old airframe destroyed was a little worrying.

I have to put my feelings on the matter aside for now. As my own HUD and H.H.S.S. kicked in. It didn’t take me more than two seconds to spot and catalog every enemy combatant in the area. My earlier calculations for our odds were off but so was McManus’s calculations. While the escort and attack fighters were between our two guesses the torpedo/bombers was way up.

“Scorpion, I hate to say this, but we got something bigger out here to support that many TB’s. That or they have set the heavy up as an attack carrier. Over”

“Falcon, I would give you better odds on our friends setting up a heavy Carrier in that manner than I would for the next Aerial Speed Track World Cup. Over” I know that sooner or later my gambling and book making was going to get me into trouble. Right now, I really didn’t give a shit. I spotted the major threat to the Singapore.

“What odds are you giving on Stone, Scorpion? Oh, and there are our bunnies. I count twelve VF-105B Thunderchiefs. Those two-by-two formations give them a three-attack vector. Over” I almost laughed at McManus when he asked for odds on Joey Stone.

As I rolled over into a power dive on the first set of four Thunderchiefs McManus was lining up to support my attack. With Lilly scanning the area for the Black Witch and any other fighter I dove on my quarry. I announced my arrival by firing on the VF-105 in the number one position. As the PPLs cycled through their sequence I was amazed by the damage they were doing. ‘Lilly what the hell is happening here? Our PPLs shouldn’t be racking up that kind of damage.’

‘Normally they won’t, but with them working in a Gatlin gun fashion it increases their fire rate, and thus their damage.’ The smugness in Lilly’s voice made wish I could get a hold of her. Because I want to hug the crazy little bitch. ‘I love you to Terresa. Now get your head in the game that first Thunderchief is dead and the number two is coming into firing position.’

I didn’t even think twice as I hit the trigger for my PPC’s twice. The over-under configuration slammed into the cockpit of the second Thunderchief as if they were each targeted individually. Then it hit me. They were being targeted individually by me. Between my H.H.S.S. and Lilly I had far more control over my primary weapons than a normal pilot would. I was literally one with my fighter’s targeting system.

We cleared the first TB’s Flight and were swing around to make a run on the second group when I spotted something unusual. The TB’s should have broken off their attack runs and changed course, but they were still on their original flight paths. I keyed my mike and made contract with McManus.

“Falcon, shouldn’t they be breaking off and coming in from different vectors? Over”

“What are you getting at Scorpion? Over” McManus asked.

“Falcon, these birds are acting like robots or A.I. driven L.E.O.s That’s what I’m getting at. Over” I knew the moment I brought it up that McManus would put it together faster than I had.

“Shit! Where is the C and C ship controlling these damned things, Scorpion? Over”

“Falcon that it the sixty-four credit question. You want to go hunting, while I’ll hold off the TB attacks? Over”

“Breaking off, Scorpion. You’re on your own. Good hunting, and don’t get your ass shot off. Your brother and sister will have my head if you do. Over” I watched as McManus rolled high right and out of the fight. I knew he would go for the C&C and have better luck taking it down than I would.

“Same to you Falcon. Out” I closed down the connection and turn my attention back to the remaining nine Thunderchiefs. ‘Okay, Lilly. Like the old song goes. It’s just you and me, kid. We got eight heavy torpedo/bombers to either disable or destroy before they can get a hard lock on the Singapore.’

‘Terresa, we have nine torpedo/bombers to destroy. Your suspicion of them being A.I. driven or remote controlled is correct. I have finished analyzing my sans of them from our first attack run. There are no human or sentient life signs on those craft. We can target the cockpit all day long, but unless it is destroyed completely like our two were. They will continue on their program flight path.’

With what Lilly just told me, I knew that I would have my hands full. If the only way to stop these heavy bitches was to either destroy them totally or blast the cockpits to hell. ‘Okay Lilly, let’s start with the wounded and work our way through the living as it were. Get an eye out for escort fighters and the Black Bitch.’

‘I’ve been meaning to tell you something Terresa. I have scanned every aerospace craft out here. The Black Witch is not here.’

I put the thought of the Black Witch not being here out of mind for now. ‘That’s alright Lilly. Right now, we have more pressing matters. Namely those Thunderchiefs.’

‘Understood, Terresa. I have a battle plan that will take advantage of their programed signal mindedness. Sweep wide and come in just off the tails. That is the Thunderchiefs greatest blind spot. Without pilots they will be totally defenseless and confused. We strafe them from tail-end Charlie to lead. Instead of targeting the cockpits, we target the torpedoes.’

The second Lilly gave her me little attack plan I knew it would work. I shoved the stick over hard right and jammed the right rudder to the floor. While pushing the throttles to the stops. The sounds of the airframe groaning under the stress of the maneuver could be heard over the screams of the engines. I knew that I was pushing the Lightnings performance profile to its limits. I also knew that I would continue to do so until I either destroyed the last torpedo/bomber or the Lightning broke apart in a ball of fire.

I didn’t even get the chance to hit the override on the warning button before Lilly was taking care of the problem for me. ‘Just fly Terresa. Leave the rest to me. besides, I don’t really have any other function right now.’

‘Okay Lilly. I trust you to not let us burnup from overheating the engines or the weapons, sister.’

‘Just fly the damned thing like you stole it. Which we did by the way. I’ll let you know if we need to back off.’

I took Lilly at her word and did just that. I pushed the Lightning to its limits. As I swung round to the tail-end Charlie position at six o’clock low just below the line of Thunderchiefs. I knew that what I was about to do was risky, but then I had to try. I waited until I had solid target locks on the last two Thunderchiefs and fired.

I know that my targets were not the norm, but I was out to kill drones, not pilots. I knew that targeting the Thunderchiefs’ torpedoes was risky. I also knew that the warheads wouldn’t exploded while still on the cradle, but their fuel would explode. I just prayed that the blast would be enough to tear the Thunderchiefs apart. As my PPLs hit the starboard torpedo they peeled the outer casing away as if it was made of butter. When they finally hit the fuel cells I was caught off guard by the explosion.

I watched as the first Thuderchief was flipped over onto its formation partner. The two heavy TB’s crashed with enough force to crush them into a tin can. The explosion of the two crashing TB’s forced me to drop lower to avoid any shrapnel. As I pulled back into attack position I got the first surprise of many. The destruction of the one torpedo and two Thunderchiefs had a rippling effect. An effect that I wasn’t expecting or had taken in to account for. The resulting explosion not only took out the two targeted Thunderchiefs but flipped the two leading Thunderchiefs in the group. The shock wave was four times normal and way out of proportion for what it should have been.

‘What the hell, Lilly?’

‘I can only hazard a guess, Terresa and you’re not going to like it.’

‘Just give it to me, Lilly?’

‘These torpedo/bombers are on suicide attack runs. They’ve been setup as kamikaze bombers. Take out one in each group the shock wave to take down the others.’

The moment she told me that I knew I had to take down the last four now. Pushing the Lightning even harder I lined up on the last group. I was at point blank range by now. I would either take them out or they would ram the Singapore. Something that I couldn’t allow to happen. With each Thunderchief carrying two Mark seventy-nine ship killer torpedoes apiece that would be a total of eight slamming into the dropship. Overkill for such a lightly armored dropship.

I tightened my finger on the trigger for my main weapons and fire them all. I don’t target the torpedoes alone this time. I target the engines. I cannot let these monsters get closer to the Singapore. Any closer and they can lunch their torpedoes. I had planned my attack to disable this time. I failed. TheThunderchief keeled over and exploded. The shock wave again does the rest. Once again, I have to evade the resulting backlash that comes from the resulting sympathetic deaths of the other three Thunderchiefs. My sudden move had two very different responses. The first was getting me clear of the explosion. The second was putting me directly in the sights of an escort fighter out for revenge.

The escort announced its presence with a hail of autocannon fire. The pounding along my portside engine outrigger let me know the piece of shit was on my four o’clock. I banked hard to starboard and pulled an Ingram flip. I heard the groan of over stressed struts and supports. I looked over at the diagram displaying my ships over all status. I didn’t like what I was seeing. Almost every surface and section was flashing yellow. The only section that wasn’t was the cockpit. It was still in the green. The port side outrigger was in the red.

As I came back around to line up on the escort I recognized the design and smiled. At least this fighter was an even match for my Lightning. The TS-19 Tiger shark was an overrated, overvalued, overpriced, and underpowered slapped together universal piece of crap. While they were great for training pilots, they weren’t worth a shit in a real fight. Like this one. I only needed the PPLs to take this fighter out.

I fired once and the Tiger Shark went up in a ball of flames. I rolled over once more and dropped in on the tail of a KV-81. I didn’t even realize that it was in the area until it came into my sights. I pushed the throttles to the stops one more time and closed in tight on my quarry. I held off until I was at pointblank range and fired my PPCs. Not to be out done and maybe to get in on the fun Lilly fired two of our missiles. I don’t know how but she guided them straight into the exhaust for the KV-81’s engines. I knew the bird was dead the moment the missiles hit.

Shoving hard over on the stick I rolled right and away. There were still more of those bitches out here to kill and I was still able to fight. As I scanned for my next target I found that the two Mustangs were still in the fight and doing damned well from the looks of things. I had no visual on Colonel McManus making me worry. Keying my radio, I contacted McManus.

“Come in Falcon, this is Scorpion. Over” when nothing happened I tried again. “Falcon, this is Scorpion come in. Over”

“Relax Scorpion. I read you. Over”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Falcon, have you been able to locate the enemy C and C. Over”

“Found and engaged, Scorpion. I could really use a little more firepower over here. This baby is no ordinary C and C. Over” I watched as the coordinates for McManus and the enemy C&C were displayed on the HUD.

“On the way Falcon. Hang in there. Over” I told him as I turned towards him and the C&C ship. I knew the Mustang pilots had things well in hand here.

‘Lilly give me a missile count and full status report on our weapons.’

‘We have ten Swift anti-aerospace missiles and eight Mark-nineteen Super Mavericks left. With the exception of two PPLs all of our primary weapons are fully functional. The two that are off-line is due to cracked focusing lenses. As much as I tried to lessen our heat buildup and increase our cyclic rate I failed to take in the possibility of manufacturing defects.’

‘Lilly, rule number one of combat. Murphy is a bitch. You just can’t account for everything. If we’re down two PPLs because of wear and tear, then we’re down two PPLs due to wear and tear. Nothing you did wrong, let it go.’

‘Okay Terresa, I’ll let it go. I just feel like I let you down.’

‘You didn’t Lilly. And so far you haven’t. Let’s finish this fight before the airframe falls apart on us. I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to eject again inside of twenty-four hours.’

We had cleared the initial area of combat when a new contact appeared on the radar. Before all we were picking up was small attack craft this one was big. Big and surrounded by eight fast moving smaller signatures. “Falcon, can you give me sitrep. Over”

“In the immortal words of Omar Bradley ‘In war there is no second prize for runner up.’ Scorpion. I got seven JR-9 Spite Fires running Top Cover for the enemy C and C. I can’t get close to use my missiles.”

That was all I needed to hear. “Copy that, Falcon. What type of ship are we talking about? Heavy, medium, or light. Over”

“Corsair class fast freighter, Scorpion. Come in hard, fast, and low off their six. That’s the only way you’ll get a shot off before one of the escorts jumps you. How copy? Over”

I knew what McManus was going to pull and didn’t like it. The problem was he outranked me. “Good copy, Falcon. You play bait for the cats, while I go for the cheese. Start your run now. Over”

I pulled back hard on the stick and pushed the left rudder to the floor. The heavy gee forces were pushing me deep into my seat as the airframe groaned once more. From the sounds of metal stressing, to just short of the breaking point, I know that I couldn’t pull such maneuvers again. I was already pushing the Lightnings limits too far as it was. Much more and I wouldn’t be taking this bird home.

I wait for my shot. I hold for as long as I can. I know I need to make this attack run count. Count for all that is worth. Because this will be my only shoot at taking the C&C ship down and out of the fight. As I closed with the ship I got my first good look at the monster that started this nightmare of mine for the past eight hours. When McManus told me that the C&C was a Corsair class dropship I knew that I would need every missile I had to destroy the damned thing. As I approached I ran through everything I knew about the Corsair class. Their strengths, their weaknesses, their weapons, their speed, their power profile, I was a little surprise by how much I could remember about Corsairs.

‘That’s because I’m giving it to you Terresa.’ Lilly piped up with.

‘Oh thanks, Lilly. Can you give me anymore information on our target?’ I asked her.

‘Our target is a Bellridge shipyard HP-150 Hyper Point Corsair. One of the heaviest in the class, and one of the best armed. They’re perfect for this type of operation. Their standard communications package could handle up to forty smaller craft with a single operator. With two that same system could handle a told of sixty craft.’ The more Lilly told me about the target the more I didn’t like what I heard. ‘The Hyper Points only have one weak point Terresa. The power couplings between the main engines and the ship. It is also the only area that they are blind.’

‘Any more good news Lilly?’ I asked with a snark.

‘We’ll only get one shoot at this Terresa. After that their anti-aircraft crews will know we’re there. As fast as you have become, and as good as we are, we’re not that lucky Terresa. Not against four computer control and radar guided and targeted ninety-millimeter Gatlin laser AA batteries.’

I didn’t even bother with keeping my feeling of that little piece of information to myself. “Just bang me in a back alley with a football bat.”

With everything that Lilly gave me on my target I side slipped into the Hyper Point’s one and only blind spot. Even at four klicks the turbulence off the engines was bucking my fighter. I now knew why the Hyper Points are so damned fast. They’re so over powered that a battleship would have a hard time tracking them. I kept my hands on the controls and my eyes on the target. I needed a hard lock from my missiles. I waited until I heard the beeping for their target systems to lock on and turn to a steady solid tone.

I held my fire until I was within five-hundred meters. I knew I was pushing my luck when the paint started to peel off my nose. I could feel the heat through my canopy and bio-armor. Lilly kept having to override the overheat warnings. I double checked the temp gages and almost shit myself. I was in the red across the boards. I wanted to dump my whole load all at once but held off. Instead I fire them off in a staggered pattern. Two at a time until my racks were empty. When the last two missiles left their rack I pulled back on my control stick and climbed out of the Hyper Point’s exhaust trail. Even as I climb away the heat levels drop.

I know that my missiles will hit, I just don’t know if they’ll get the job done. I rolled over so I can get a look at the impact of my missiles. The explosions that I saw were nothing compared to their impact on the Hyper Point. I watched as the stern slowly rose upwards as fuel exhaust vented downward from the couplings. With each missile impact the uncontrolled venting of superheated plasma pushed the Hyper Point further over. When the last two missiles hit, the dropship was totally out of control. As I continued on my escape trajectory I kept my cockpit facing the doomed dropship. With an unimagined dignity the enemy dropship continued to roll as pieces broke away in a fiery shower of death and uncontrolled destruction.

I was so lost in making sure that the Hyper Point died that I didn’t notice I had company until McManus came over the radio. “Nice shooting Scorpion. Be sure to paint a gold star on your cockpit for that bad boy. Over”

“Shit! Falcon, you could have warned me you were on my wingtip. Over” I came close to losing it when I finally spotted the Colonel just off my starboard wingtip.

“Sorry about that, Scorpion. I take it that you’re down to V.F.R. only? Over”

“Yeah pretty much Falcon. Radar is out, thermal is cooked, and mag scan is worthless. All I got is a shaky assed Navcom and Mark one eyeballs for flight control and navigation. Over” My very blunt assessment of my situation most have caught McManus off guard slightly because it was a few seconds before he replied.

“Well it is a good thing that the fighting is over then. Fall in on my eight o’clock and I’ll get you back to the Singapore. Do you think you can land that bird? Over”

I had to think about that one. I needed more information. ‘Lilly is this bird safe to land on the Singapore?’

‘So long as we don’t go making any more high-performance maneuvers we can land on the Singapore’s flight deck. Terresa, I’ll be honest honey, you really pushed this airframe to its limits and a little beyond. We’re going to need to find you an aerospace fighter that can keep up with our abilities. That or design one that can.’ It was Lilly’s last comment that got me thinking. I had pushed the Lightning in ways that it wasn’t designed to handle, but it had still performed for me.

“Falcon, I can put her down as she is now, but don’t ask for any victory rolls. I’ve got one too many cracks in the frame for something like that. Over” I did my best to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Damn. The Prince was right. We’ll find you a fighter that can handle your abilities Scorpion. I promise that you won’t be ground because of being able to fly most aerospace fighters to the edge of their flight envelopes and beyond. Over”

“If it is all the same Falcone. If we can get this old bird back on her feet and upgraded I’d like to keep flying her if I can. Over” I really had come to love the Lightning. I also knew that with the chances of me being able to keep it was slim to fracking none.

“Sorry, Scorpion. But if my scans of your ship are correct that bird is bound for the scrapheap. You got more cracks in that airframe than the Empress has gray hairs. Over” I had to laugh at McManus’s joke about the Empress having gray hairs. At forty-eight years old Maiha Nakatoma still looked as young as the day she first took the Throne.

What I did know was that McManus had been scanning my Lightning from the time he pulled next to my wing. I knew that my ship was in bad shape but not how bad. If I had I damned wouldn’t have been trying to put this bird down on the Recovery Flight Deck of the Singapore. As I lined up for my approach I felt a shudder though the airframe that put me on edge. The closer I got to the Singapore the stronger the shudder became. It got to the point that it was now a constant vibration.

‘Lilly, where the hell is that vibration coming from?’

‘Terresa, I cannot pinpoint the cause for the vibration. In fact I have no idea for why it is happening. Could there be something from the Singapore causing some form of turbulence?’ I thought about what Lilly asked. There were a few things that could cause this type of turbulence in space and none of them were good. Especially when it comes to dropships. I doubled checked the scans of the dropship’s engine output and vectoring thrusters.

“Falcon, wave off, wave off. We got to come in from the other side. Over’

“What you got Scorpion? Over”

“Check the top side port thrusters. Three of them are pointed in line with our flight path. Over” I knew that he should have seen the thrusters.

“Negative Scorpion. This is our only vector for landing and our chances of a refuel are slim to none. Over”

I knew that McManus knew more than he was letting on. “Falcon, what aren’t you telling me? Over”

“The enemy attack managed to damage the starboard side landing bays. The Fire and Damage Control crews are still trying to get the fires under control. The port side bays are our only chance for recovery. Over”

I felt my stomach drop. “Falcon, any chance of getting a pickup from one of carriers? Over”

“Sorry, Scorpion, but the nearest carrier is on the far side of the system running interdiction operations. Over”

“Frack! Just great. Well Lilly, it’s been nice knowing you little lady.” Keying my radio. “Okay, Falcon. Let’s try this one more time. By the way, if I don’t make it. It has been nice knowing you, and an honor serving with you. Out”

I lined back up for the landing bay and said a quick prayer. I pushed the throttles to the half way point and began my landing approach. The closer I can to the Singapore the stronger the turbulence and the more I had to push on my throttles and stick to fight for control. The closer I got to the Recovery Flight deck the more the airframe groaned, and engines screamed. I knew that one way or the other I would be on the Recovery Deck. Wither that would be crashing or a landing was a toss of the dice. I just hope I walk away from it. As I cleared the flight deck covering the turbulence dropped to zero, and I dropped my landing gear. The second my wheels touched the decking I yanked back on the throttles, slammed down on the breaks, and kicked in the reverse thrusters. All while praying that my tail hook gabbed the catch cable before I hit the arrester net.

I knew that if I hit that net it would pull my ship apart, along with me inside the cockpit. The sudden jerk as my tail hook snatched the catch cable and pressure from the gee forces shoved me deep into my command chair. The shock of the sudden stop almost caused me to blackout. It wasn’t until my landing gear gave way dropping the Lightning to the deck with a solid thud I knew I was still alive. I sent up a silent prayer to the gods and goddesses of flight and aircraft manufacture.

‘Terresa, who are these gods that you just prayed to?’ All I could do was laugh at Lilly’s question.

Command deck for the Singapore.

General Davenport had watched the entire battle from her place behind Captain Stokes. Prince James and Sylvester had taken up places over by the tactical operations officer’s position. Sylvia and Colonel Kelly were in the Medical Bay tending to the wounded as they came in. The other members of the General Staff had taken positions around the Command deck at stations that were close to their normal operational duties. They were all amazed by the battle that had taken place outside in the cold harsh unforgiving vastness of space.

All the General Staff had seen such battles before, but never had they seen one where a single fighter had made so much difference in the outcome. General Davenport looked over at Prince James and Sylvester. “Captain Cole, were you aware of your sister’s skill level at the controls of a fighter?”

Sylvester turned to face Davenport before answering her. “General, all I can say when it comes to my little sister is this. She was slated to be a test pilot for the new F-1E5 Strike Eagle Aerospace Fighter. That and all of her training was to be exactly that, a test pilot.”

Prince James started chuckling. “That explains why she fights the way she does.”

“Explain please, Major Nakatoma.” Davenport asked of the Prince.

“General, I know this is going to sound crazy, but it is the only explanation that fits all the facts.” Prince James began with a smile. “The Lieutenant was trained to push whatever aircraft she flies to its limits. She was never really trained for air-to-air combat. All she ever got was the basics and theory. As far as Lieutenant Terresa Cole is concerned there is no difference between combat and test flights. She’ll always push her aircraft to the limit and beyond. She is just like my three aunts and grandmother when they pilot their APS’s. They all make those Suits do shit that they shouldn’t. All because they were never trained as APS combat pilots. I don’t know HOW many times I’ve heard their personal suit mechanic bitch about having to overhaul their suits’ powerplants, control systems, and just about every other system on those monsters. I have a feeling that Flight Lieutenant Terresa Cole will be very much the same as my aunts and grandmother with her aircraft.”

“Hell shit! That’s just perfect. I’ve got a pilot that will continuously fly whatever aircraft she is put into to the point that it either falls apart in the skies or slams nose first into the ground. All due to her pushing it to its limits in combat maneuvers. Maneuvers I might add that no one else can preform because of the pilot’s unique physical makeup and skill set. Does that about sum things up, Major Nakatoma or is there something that I missed?” Davenport asked sarcastically. Sylvester chuckled at hearing this last part. Then started to nod his head. “Okay Captain Cole, what have we missed?”

“Only the most important thing ma’am.” Sylvester pointed towards the forward view screen. “Somewhere, out there, right now, is a pilot that has pissed off my kid sister in a major way and she’ll be wanting a rematch.”

“How do you figure that Captain?” Davenport asked Sylvester coldly. Already knowing she wasn’t about to like his answer one little bit.

“Ma’am, let me put it this way. Terresa may have new packaging, but behind those silver eyes and under the white hair is still the hot headed stubborn little brother of mine. A brother that never once let someone push him around. And never backed down from a fight, not even once in his short life. The pilot of that all black KV-81 owes Terresa a fighter. And she’ll collect her due in blood.” The look in Sylvester’s eyes let Davenport know just how serious the situation was with Terresa.

James looked the younger officer in the eyes. “Just how strong will her lust and need for revenge drive her, Captain Cole?”

The answer to that question came from the door. “Past the Gates of Hell, before the Throne of Lucifer, and beyond, your Highness. She’ll drag her enemies with her as she does it. Our new kid sister picked the right names for herself and her A.I. If there was ever a pairing that pointed to the twin Goddess of Justice and Vengeance it is that pairing.”

Sylvester looked over at his sister Sylvia. “You have got to be kidding me, sis. You really don’t think she picked those two names just for that reason.”

Sylvia just nodded her head yes. “I do Sy. You know as well as I do how Jason used to sit for hours on end as a little kid and listen to mom’s stories of Terresa and Lilith. The twin Goddesses of Justice and Vengeance who brought death from above.”

“Who are these goddesses Major Cole?” James asked her.

“Major Nakatoma that is a story that will take more time to explain than we currently have. And we have more pressing matter that must be addressed.” Colonel Kelly let the bridge know with some worry in her voice. “The Med bay is full, and we have injured in the corridors. If we don’t get to New Texas soon we may lose more than a few of them. Before you ask General, the answer is yes, they are mostly civilians.”

Captain Stokes just shook his head. “I would love to give you an emergency jump straight to New Texas, Colonel. I could have done exactly that until this last attack, but thanks to those few fighters that did get past our defenders we can’t.”

General Davenport gave the Singapore’s Captain a harsh look. “Why not Captain?”

“I can give you a laundry list of reasons General, but I’ll sum it up for you. Our engines are running at half capacity, the navigation thrusters are barely keeping us on course, and our navigational beacon is gone. So, unless you can get us Medical Rescue Ship out here, there is nothing we can do for your patients accept give them mercy.” Stokes’ last three words drew a harsh intake of breath from Colonel Kelly and Sylvia. As doctors they both had taken oaths to save lives, not take them. What Stokes was suggesting was putting the worst of the injured out of their pain and misery by lethal injection.

General Davenport knew what Stokes was getting at and didn’t want to agree with the man. The problem was she knew he was right. “Captain Stokes send the destress call. The hospital dropship Bifrost is in system. She can be here within the hour.”

The Bifrost was a Military Hospital dropship and could only render aid to civilian dropships under full emergency conditions. It also meant that Stokes would be evacuating his ship of all but needed personal. Something that he wasn’t about to do. He didn’t care what General Davenport ordered.

“You maybe a General in Her Majesty’s service Davenport, but on this ship you’re not the one in charge. I am and I already gave the order for mercy.” There was something about Stokes’ manner that set those on the bridge on edge.

“Care to explain why you’re refusing to call for help Captain?” James growled out.

“Frack that shit, Major. I want to know what is so damned important on this ship that he is willing to kill for.” Sylvester snapped. “You left the New Heaven system with only three of your normal fighter pilots and fighters. You’re already running with a skeleton crew. My sister informed me that you don’t even have a ship’s doctor for this run. I won’t even ask why you had only one Tactical Office on board.”

Stokes stood there fuming. These outsiders were asking one too many questions. He wanted them off his ship now. He knew that if they started looking too closely at his ship’s cargo he would be in deep shit. When the next voice that joined the conversation once again came from the door to the bridge, Stokes knew he was done.

“I’ll tell you why Sy. The son-of-bitch, is smuggling weapons.” Terresa snapped. As she walked across the bridge deck Terresa twirled a 10mm semi-automatic pistol in her right hand. In her left hand was a 30mm grenade. “I found these little beauties in crates marked as ceramics bound for Peermont on New Texas. I couldn’t figure out why those torpedo/bombers were on kamikaze runs. Our Captain here is supplying the resistance forces on New Texas. He put his passengers in harm’s way by violating the rules of war by using his dropship to smuggle weapons. That act alone makes this ship a legitimate target.”

“How much were you paid, you blood sucking piece of shit?” Sylvester snarled.

When Stokes didn’t answer Sylvester, Prince James placed his sword next to the man’s neck. “Answer Captain Cole, Stokes or I’ll take your head.”

“I’m only being paid for the cost of the weapons and my crews wages.” Stokes answered. “You Imperials have done nothing to stop the Amazons or help the free citizens of the GWS or NCS. You can arrest me and my crew for weapons smuggling but that won’t stop the other smugglers out there. At least I’m not gauging them.”

As much as Prince James wanted to argue the man’s point, he couldn’t. Not even the General and her Staff could argue the point. James just walked over to the communications station. “Can you get me a connection with the Bifrost?”

The coms-tech just nodded her head and did as asked. When Stokes went to countermand the Prince’s request Terresa shoved the pistol in his face. “If I were you Stokes I would just stand there and keep your trap shut. You damned near got me killed twice in the last eight hours. Right now I don’t give a shit about your cargo or your political leanings. But we are not killing those wounded civilians. You want to stay aboard and take your chances after we’re gone that is fine, but don’t interfere with the rescue operations.”

“Lieutenant Cole! Stand Down!” Davenport ordered.

“No ma’am. This man and his beliefs along with his business practices have endangered the lives of innocent bystanders. He blinks, sneezes, even farts wrong, I blow his head off, ma’am. Between the stupidity of those scientists and this shit stick’s ignorance I have damned near been killed one time too many today.” Everyone on the Command deck could tell that Terresa was running on the ragged edge. And she was done listening to reason. Even Prince James could tell the young lady had been pushed too far. He was well educated in the ways of female emotions coming from a family where the women out number the men by two to one.

“General Davenport this is one time that a Lieutenant is going to overrule your orders. I for one agree with her.” James smirked. “Lieutenant Cole, as this is a civilian dropship I do have more of a legal standing than the General so if you so desire you can carry out the promise without repercussions from the Military or Civilian authorities. You’ll be acting on my authority understand?”

For the first time Stokes realized just how far he gone. The Crown Prince of the Human Empire had just issued his arrest warrant, and if needs be his death as well. His bid to supply the resistance fighters on New Texas and New Carolina with weapons had failed. He knew that there were seven Death Dealer Divisions in the two systems working as peacekeepers. Peacekeepers that were trying to keep a full-blown war from erupting between the locals and the Amazons.

“You just doomed those people to lives of slavery under those genetic freaks Nakatoma. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” Stokes spat out just before Terresa pulled the trigger of the confiscated pistol.

As Stokes fell face-first to the deck Terresa lowered the pistol slowly. “I hope you find your way straight to hell, you worthless bootjacked thug. Don’t worry though, I’ll be sure to send you company soon.”

“Lieutenant Cole, normally I would have you in irons. Fortunately for you, you acted under the Civil Authority of the Crown Prince.” Davenport knew that no matter how she sliced it, Terresa had acted under Prince James authority. Now she needed to get the wounded passengers off this dropship and start recovery operations for the ship its self. “Comms raise the Bifrost and Battleship Roger Young.”

“Aye, ma’am. You should know that the XO and cargo master also knew about the illegal cargo. As well as most of the cargo crew.” The communication officer told her bluntly. “I can vouch for the rest of the bridge crew ma’am. When I say that we wanted no part of the Captain’s or the XO’s plans.”

“Why is that Comms?” Sylvester asked for everyone there.

“Most of the bridge crew come from systems that were hit hard during the last war thirty years ago. Systems that are still trying to rebuild in some cases. We know what civil war does. We may not like what the Amazons have been doing, but so far, they have been doing it in a bloodless manner. Do we like what the Amazons have been doing no, but until the laws get changed it is legal. Only here has there been violent response to their tactics and we know how that ends. In the end nobody really wins. The more the locals use weapons to fight back the more the Amazons will use mercenary units to fight back.” The radar operator answered from his position with more than a little heat.

“Any idea of who is backing the mercs crewman?” Davenport asked.

“Sure, everybody in the system knows who the big six families are. All you got to do is look at the Amazon High Families of White, Von Bencher, Blücher, Danvers, Bull, and King. They’re the ones paying the mercs to keep the pressure on the locals but it’s the Calisto family that is leading them.” The radar operator smirked as he turned to face Terresa directly. “Lieutenant Cole, you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting their local Head of House.”

Terresa looked at the man then asked. “Where and when?”

The radar operator pointed out the forward view screen. “About six hours ago in combat. You know her as the Black Witch, everyone else knows her as Emily Calisto.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 5
The bridge of the Singapore, high orbit around New Texas.

For the past twelve hours I stood watching as first the wounded had been transferred to the Medical Dropship Bifrost and then the rest of the civilians. At first, I wanted to protest the crew of the Singapore being transferred off. That was until I saw them in irons. Only the bridge crews were spared after being interrogated by members of the Death Dealer Inquisitor Squads. None of us were expecting the North Star to return and provide both protection and a tow.

With the engines damaged the way they were there was no way the Singapore was going to make landfall in one piece. As the lowest ranking military officer on board the dropship, I got stuck watching over the skeleton crew left behind to ensure the Singapore stayed on course during the tow. Not that it mattered to me. I knew that I wasn’t ready to face a few hundred horny men on a Navy Cutter.

‘Terresa, I know there are procedures for securing an abandoned ship. Why are they just letting the bridge crew still pilot this one?’

‘Lilly there is over forty tons of illegal arms and munitions in the cargo holds of this ship. The General and the Crown Prince just can’t let that fall in to the hands of the rebel forces on either New Carolina or New Texas. The Death Dealers are out here trying to keep the Amazon mercs and those crazy Confederates from going full-title boggy into an all-out war. You heard what the Prince ordered done with those experimental A.I. driven fighters. Whatever else is in those cargo holds must not get into the hands of either force. Now, do you understand why we’re the ones still on this dropship. If the bridge crew gets stupid, the North Star has orders to blast this ship straight to hell, us with it.’

I know that Lilly is taking her time going over what I just told her. ‘Terresa, there is one operational Mustang still on the flight deck. We can reach it before the crew knows and lunch before the North Star can get a hard lock on us.’

‘I know that Lilly, but it won’t matter. We still couldn’t clear the range of their main guns before they acquired us, got a hard lock and fired. I won’t even bother with pointing out that their missiles are all radar guided, with a range of around two to three AUs. As fast as the Mustangs and Lightnings are, there is no way we can out run the missiles on that Cutter.’ As if to underscore my feelings on the matter Lilly put the weapons for the new Cutters up on my HUD.

‘I see what you mean Terresa. I had no idea that the Explorer Class Cutters were so well armed. Please forget my suggestion.’

‘Forget about it, Lilly. You heart was in the right place.’ I tried to reassure her that she had not made a mistake.

‘I beg to differ. I don’t have a heart. Therefor it cannot be misplaced.’ It took me a second before I realized that I just got punked.

The bridge crew turned to look at me as I giggled over Lilly’s inside joke. I just looked at them and they quickly returned to their duties. A few of them muttered an epitaph that I know I would have to live with for the rest of my life. As much as I wanted to beat the shit out those that used that term I couldn’t.

‘Terresa, why do these people call us Silver Eyed Witch with such hate?’

I sighed before answering Lilly’s question. ‘Lilly do you remember how you couldn’t find that one reference to Claymores?’

‘Yes. What does that have to do with the name Silver Eyed Witch?’

‘To most people in the military, and even more so amongst the civilians, Claymores are just too deadly and too unpredictable to be trusted. Sadly, only part of that statement is true. Of all the Second-Generation Death Dealers the deadliest of them all are Claymores. They’re faster, stronger, and above all meaner than any other Death Dealer out there. That is one of the reasons why Claymores get called some very derogatory names. Silver eye witch, is just one of the politer ones. Thankfully only one in a very large number ever manifest as Claymores.’

‘I see. So, them calling us Silver Eyed Witch is not a compliment. Would telling them that we lack the weapons of a Second-Generation Death Dealer ease their fears?’

Once again, I just giggled. ‘No Lilly, I don’t think that would be a good idea. As far as they are concerned, the only place people like us belong is in a box behind glass marked ‘Break in case of war’. I kind of understand why they feel like that. Just look at us! We’re the prefect pilot for an aerospace fighter. All thanks to that fracking COBRA program.’

‘In a way that is very true Terresa, but in others it is not. I hate to say this but, at present, there in not one aerospace fighter of any class that can withstand your style of combat. I have been scanning the current listings of available craft. None of them can match our capabilities. Also, we cannot place the blame solely on the COBRA programing. As it was only partially up loaded into my original matrix. The second part of that falls on the E.L.S.S. measures to save your life.’ I had to stop and think over what Lilly had just informed me. I decided to ignore the parts about the COBRA and E.L.S.S. for now and just concentrate on getting back into a fighter of some type.

‘Lilly did you include the new F-1E5 Strike Eagle in that scan?’

‘I have Terresa. Even with all of that fighter’s advanced aeronautics and flight characteristics’ It will be woefully inadequate for our needs. It does have some characteristics that we could use, but the rest are worthless. If we could put the avionics package in say a lighter, faster, and more maneuverable airframe like the Lightning or the Black Widow we might have an aerospace fighter that we could operate to our fullest capabilities.’

I thought about what Lilly just told me. ‘Lilly is there a manufacturing facility at that research center on New Texas?’

It took her a few seconds before she answered. ‘There is one that would meet our requirements Terresa. I take it that you have a design in mind for a new type of fighter. One that would be a true air superiority and interceptor fighter.’

‘Yes, I do Lilly. I won’t let us get grounded because we don’t have a fighter. Not even from being a test pilot.’ I already had an idea of what I needed in a fighter. The first of which was I needed a fighter that was more acrobat than boxer. Not so much a speed demon but more like sports hovercar. Less sledgehammer more scalpel.

As I started listing the needed parameters for Lilly she placed them on my personal HUD while inputting her own ideas. Our little dream fest was interrupted by the helmsman. “Lieutenant, you need to strap in ma’am. We’re starting our descent to Huston Spaceport now. And ma’am, this is going to be a bumpy ride down.”

“Understood, Helm. Do your best to keep this bird in one piece.” I ordered.

“I can’t guarantee that last part Lieutenant. Not with all the damage sustained to our outer hulls, thrusters, and engines. To be honest Lieutenant Cole, if I can get this beast down without crashing it’ll be a damned miracle.” I looked over at the helmsman to see if the man was kidding. The grim look of concentration and line of perspiration across his forehead told me he wasn’t.

“Helmsman Garret, if we don’t make it down. It has been an honor to fly with you.” I told the man honestly.

“Same here Lieutenant, same here. Just do me a favor. We get down safely, never fly on one of my dropships again.” The whole bridge crew busted out laughing at Garret’s joke including me. The laughing continued until the Singapore hit the upper atmosphere of the planet. At first, I thought we would burnup before we cleared the ionosphere. The primary heat shield tiles were flaking off at a rate that was scary as hell to me, but as I looked around the bridge all I saw was calm reflection. I steeled my nerves and said a silent prayer.

I had to remain calm and trust these people. They were the experts, where all I knew was the theory behind piloting a dropship. I knew that if we got this monster down someone would to have to pry my hands from the Command chair armrests. I’ve made atmosphere entry in an aerospace fighter multiple times during flight training. This was totally different. In a fighter you come in at a steep attack angle, more like an arrow driving into a target. This was like trying to slip between the layers of atmosphere like a lover between the thighs of their newest conquest. This type of flying was a totally different style than what I was used to.

The deeper we got into the atmosphere the more the ship bounced around. Soon I felt a heavy vibration in the deck plates. I know that wasn’t a good sign. When the sounds of groaning metal and screeching joints came, I knew we weren’t going to make it down. I began looking around for the escape pods. When Garret yield to be heard over the noise I knew that the time to use the escape pods was passed.

“VICTOR TWELVE! FULL FLAPS! ENGINEERING MAX POWER TO THE ENGINES! NAV CALL THEM OFF AS WE PASS THEM! CRASH TEAMS STANDBYE FOR IMPACT! ALL CREW ASSUME CRASH POSITIONS!”

He had no sooner calling out his orders that the navigator began calling out wave points as we passed over them. “MARK 20! TEN SECONDS TO NEXT WAVE POINT!”

“FULL POWER ON ALL ENGINES HELM!” The ship’s engineer called out.

“MARK 18 AND COUNTING HELM!” When I heard this I knew we were coming in way too fast. The navigator’s next call confirmed this. “MARK 14! PULL UP HELM! WE’RE COMING IN TOO HOT! I SAY AGAIN PULL UP!”

“DEPLOY THE ATMOSPHERE BREAKS AND GLIDE WINGS! ENGINEERING STANDBYE ON THE BREAKING THRUSTERS! TEN SECONDS TO FULL GLIDE!” Garret screamed out.

I sat there praying to every god and goddess of flight there is, all in the hopes that we get down in one piece. That and Helmsman Garret knows what he is doing. As I heard Garret scream out for the breaking thrusters at more than thirty-thousand feet I knew we were coming in way too fast. I felt the prow of the Singapore slowly raising then breathed a sigh of relief. If Garret could get the prow up, we had more than a chance at landing safely. When the navigator called out Mark 12 I knew we were slowing. I looked out the forward view screen and could see the Huston landing strip coming into view. Just after the navigator called out mark 10 I heard the atmosphere breaks deploy and bite into the air around the ship. The next thing I feel is the Singapore climbing.

“ALL HANDS STANDBYE FOR CHUTE BREAKING IN T-MINUS FIVE AND COUNTING!” Garret called out over the noise of both the atmosphere rushing over the haul and scream of the engines. When he said Chute Breaking I knew we were still going too fast.

I also knew that if we had less than five minutes to landing then we were really pushing the flight envelope of the Singapore. The moans and groans of the ships hull metal were loud enough to deafen. The smell of overheated exhaust from the braking thrusters permeated the whole ship. This landing was happening more like an assault landing of a Raider class dropship than the glide landing of a civilian dropship. The problem was the Singapore was a civilian class Clipper dropship. These babies maybe fast but they weren’t built for assault landings.

We were less than five miles out and still coming in too fast when Garret called out. “BRACE FOR IMPACT! ENGINEERING FULL POWER TO BREAKING THURSTERS ON MY COMMAND! COMMS WARN THE ECRT AND FIRE TO BE ON STANDBYE!”

That last command grabbed my attention. The Emergency Crash Reaction Teams and Fire Department were only called out for crash landings. It was never a fun time when those two departments rolled out. I should know. My first brush with death had been during flight training. I got caught by a bird strike in my port engine that blew out both exhaust ports forcing me to make an emergency landing. The damage to my TR-19 Tigger trainer forced me to belly in on the crash pad. If it hadn’t been for my H.H.S.S. kicking in when it did I would have died that day. And here I am facing a similar situation with a similar outcome, only this time I’m not the one on the controls. All I can do is sit here and pray that Garret knows his job. Him and the rest of this crew. Because if they don’t this is going to be hell of a short-lived landing ending in a fireball of twisted burning wreckage.

I heard the whine of the landing gear deploying. Followed their added resistance to the air helping to break the Singapore’s speed. Six massive sets of wheels. Each set is a pairing of four, for a total of twenty-four wheels standing twenty-feet tall and weighting over a ton a piece. That was a lot of weight to drag through the air and made one massive break. I knew we were less than a hundred feet off the ground now and passed the point of no return. We either touch own safely or crashed. I started counting down the seconds until we hit the runway.

I felt the rear landing gear touch down first as the Clipper rolled forward onto its wing then finally nose gear. From his position Garret called out. “BREAKING THURSTERS NOW! DEPLOYING CHUTES! MAIN ENGINES ALL BACK FULL! HANG ON EVERYBODY THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE ONE OF MY BETTER LANDINGS!”

As much as I want to laugh just then I couldn’t do it. I was too busy trying to not piss my bio-armor. When the emergency breaking chutes deployed I was almost tossed out of the command chair. If not for the crash harness I would have been face down on the deck. The roar of the main engines reached an almost unbearable level as the ‘buckets’ dropped over the main engines redirecting their thrust forward and away from the body. I could hear the breaks on the landing gear screeching as they tried to slow the ship. I swear I could almost feel the ship tearing itself about. When the sudden jerk to port came Garret slammed down on the fire extinguishers for the landing gear. I knew that if he did that again the Singapore would be sliding on her belly. If I survived this landing I would never again travel on a civilian transport. I didn’t care if I had to take a PTC between duty stations.

‘Terresa the landing gear breaks are reaching their maximum tolerance levels for heat. If the Singapore does not come to a stop soon I fear it will explode.’

‘Lilly before you say something about using that fighter forget about it. The only working lunch tube is on starboard side keel.’ I figured I should point this little fact out to my newest friend.

‘I know this Terresa. I am merely pointing out that our chances of surviving this landing have dropped considerably. Which are now down to twenty-seven-thousand-eight-hundred-forty-four to one.’

‘In the words of a great man from the early days space pioneering. Never tell me the odds.’ The scream of the nose gear breaking off drove the point home that we were now very much a crashed dropship. The Singapore was never going to fly the space ways again under its own. Not after this landing anyway. I figure that it would take twelve to eighteen months in a repair dock before the Singapore would ready for flight operations again. If ever.

“HAMMERHEAD IN TWO HUNDRED FEET HELM! THREE HUNDRED TO THE TRAP!” The navigator called out to Garret. Then started to countdown to the end of the runway and the crash pad. “ONE-FIFTY! ONE HUNDRED! SEVENTY-FIVE! FIFTY! TWENTY-FIVE! CRASH PAD!”

The crash pad worked as advertised and stopped the Singapore dead once the ship was halfway over it. I didn’t wait for the crew to issue the order. I hit the emergency evacuation signal for the whole ship. Even as the emergency exit exploded away from the command deck and the slide chute deployed we’re unstrapping. As we lined up to slide down and away from the crashed ship my mind kept running over the options for the landing. I could find nothing pointing to the crew trying to crash the Singapore on propose. These thoughts were backed up by Lilly’s analyses.

‘Terresa, there was nothing they could do to keep this ship from crashing. There was just too much damage done to it during the two attacks. The fact that they were able to even put it down in this good of shape is amazing.’

‘Like the old saying goes Lilly. Any landing you can walk away from is a good one. And we’re walking away from this one.’ I told her only to have Lilly quote another old saying among pilots.

‘Take-offs are optional, landings are mandatory.’

Private quarters, Super Carrier, Lady Dai Etsu, stationary orbit, New Texas

James sat behind his desk in his private quarters of the Super Carrier named after his grandmother, the Lady Dai Etsu. He wasn’t alone. Sitting across from him were Sylvester and Sylvia Cole. Neither of whom were none too happy with him just then. James didn’t blame the brother and sister for being mad at him. After all it was his orders that left their younger sibling on board the Singapore to command it during its landing. It was his actions that placed that young woman in danger for the third time in twenty-fours. James gave the two siblings a few seconds to unload on him, when it didn’t come he took his mother’s approach.

“Okay, people let’s dispense with the formalities and titles. There will be no titles or ranks used in here. You’re both pissed off at me leaving your new sister on that fracked up dropship. Let me have it.” James knew he was about to get an ear full, from Sylvester from the Captain’s facial expression.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Sylvia damned near launched out of her chair. “Just who frack do you think you are to just sentence our sister die like this? Just because you’re a fracking prince doesn’t mean you can just send someone to their death because they’re an irritating reminder of our past, you pompous ass.”

“Miss. Cole for starters I didn’t leave your sister to die on that dropship. I left her on that dropship because she is the only person we have that can spot a sabotaged landing. Not because she is an unfortunate reminder of a harsh fact from our history. Before you go off I do know more about the Secondary-Configuration Death Dealers than most officers. I do have some questions concerning her transformation.” James knew he was dancing on thin ice.

“Your Highness, you can take your questions and shove them up your ass. The only way you get your answers is if our sister lives through that dropship’s landing.” Sylvester snarled out as he shifted in his chair.

James sighed as he looked over at Sylvester. “For starters Mister Cole, the name is James. Second, your sister and the Singapore are down safely. Not in one piece from what I understand but everyone made it out. She should be clearing medical in another half hour or so. What about you Marie? You want a go at me to?”

“Nope. I believe that the Coles’ have things well in hand. Personally James, I would have shot you in the ass by now.” Colonel Marie Kelly smirked.

“You always were one to get straight to the point Marie.” James smiled at one of his old Instructors. “I always hated your pop quizzes in class. I am hoping that between you and Doctor Cole you can answer my questions concerning Lieutenant Cole’s Secondary-Configuration. Because there should be far too many safeguards in place to keep that process from ever happening again.”

Sylvester and Sylvia looked over at each other before Sylvester nodded his head. Sylvia pulled out the data crystal that she had taken off the scientist. “Okay James you want answers. Here they are. Just play that.”

James put the crystal in his reader and hit play. Everyone in the room sat silently as for the next hour as the data was displayed on James’ main monitor. When the last entry had played, a list of programs were displayed. The first one on that list was the program for the original Omega Class Infiltrator A.I. base. Of those in the room only James knew what he was truly looking at.

“GODS BE DAMNED THOSE FOOLS! I killed them too quickly!” Reaching over James hit the button for his private connection to his mother. “Comms, this is a class Alpha One Priority Alert Fast Com Message for Wave Dancer and Koneko Mistress. Full scramble codes to be enacted.”

The young yeoman in the communication center didn’t even think twice about following the Crown Prince’s order. Not after Prince James gave those Communication Codes. Colonel Kelly, was the only one in the room that understood the meaning by James’ orders. Or the significance they held for Terresa Cole. Sylvia and Sylvester looked over at the very stunned expression on Colonel Kelly’s face. Sylvia was the first to ask what was happening.

“Colonel Kelly, ma’am what is so important about that code and call signs?”

“That is my personal frequency to the Palace and the call signs belong to my mothers.” James answered not taking his eyes off the main view screen on his office wall. “They should be answering shortly. Before they do, you both need to know that neither of them will be standing on protocol once I tell them why I’ve called. In fact, they will be down right pissed off and may ask you both some very direct and unsettling questions concerning your new sister.”

Both of the Cole siblings swallowed hard at the thought of talking directly with the Empress and her wife the War Princess. Both women were known for their rather short tempers and violent mood swings. Though they had calmed down over the years the legends of Maiha and Allison Nakatoma being hellions of the first order still fill the barracks of military outposts. The one legend of Empress Maiha sending a buck private to an arctic outpost on her home planet of Hades for not handing over a radio was a favorite one to tell new recruits. Little did anyone know that private had been promoted to holding one of the most coveted positions in the Nakatoma House Military, Personal Bodyguard to Grand Lady Dai Etsu Nakatoma.

When the screen filled with the faces of the two women both were smiling but it was the beautiful Japanese woman who spoke first. “James, it’s good to hear from you. How’s your posting to New Texas going?”

“Wave Dancer, we have a Falling Star. I repeat, a Falling Star.” James had no sooner finished using the code phrase for a Secondary-Configuration the first time than the expressions of both women changed.

“Report, Joker.” The Empress ordered.

“As of zero-seven-forty local time the Clipper class dropship Singapore entered the system. At zero-seven-forty-five they came under attack.” James went on to describe the ensuing battle and how Jason Cole came to be in the Secondary-Configuration cocoon. When he got to the point where Jason was released from the cocoon he stopped. “Mom, this is where things get a little weird.”

Alice smiled out at James. “Weird how James?”

“When the Infiltrator’s COBRA programing engaged there were holes in its coding.” James had no sooner finished explaining this than Maiha held up her hand. “Yes ma’am. You have a question?”

“James, are the three people in the room with you clear for this information?” this was a real concern for Maiha as it hit too close to the truth of her past.

“I’m sorry, mama. Let me make some introductions. The Colonel and Major are doctors for the one-oh-first, and the Captain is with the divisions Spec Ops teams. Colonel Marie Kelly is part of General Davenport’s Staff. The Major and Captain are the older brother and sister of Lieutenant Cole. I included them as I feel that they need to know exactly what we’re dealing with when it comes to this situation.” James knew that he had made a unilateral decision but had to be done.

“Thank you, James. Now tell me what you meant by there being holes in the COBRA program. Was it incomplete or something else?” Maiha asked with real concern.

“Okay mama, I’ll do my best, but this is more along aunt Nanase’s line of study. From what I can tell there are whole sections of the program left out. Not ones that would render it worthless but unable to fulfill all of its functions. Like scanning for a viable population demographics to style the new configuration baseline appearance for starters. Another MASSIVE hole is the secondary protocols concerning the offensive and defensive weapons. Those are completely missing. The strange part is the protocols that were written to repair any brain faults first, thus avoiding splintering are present. It was as if the scientists were able to only get their hands on half the program. I’ve already thrown that idea out. There are just too many exact pieces of the program for this to be an accident. I have the program on a data crystal with the program and it is being sent to you for examination. I was hoping that you could give me a better idea of what I’m missing here mama.” James tried to keep the frustrations out of his voice.

“We’ve got it now James. Give me a few minutes with Dee Dee to go over it.” Maiha told her son with a smile. Alice though was giving their oldest son the stink eye.

“Okay, James, what is it about this pilot that has you so unsettled?” Alice demanded.

“Before I start you need to understand that Lieutenant Cole is like mama Maiha.” Alice got the hint James just gave her and nodded her head for him to continue. “I know that I should keep things like this professional, but she came out of that cocoon as a Claymore. She is one of a kind and deadly as hell on the stick of a fighter. I’ll be honest here. I’ve seen more than a few Aces out there, but none of them hold a candle to Terresa Cole. She took on half a Squadron of KV-81 Sturmgewehrs with a P-38D Lightning and downed three along with two DH-95B Mosquitos before being jumped and shot down. During the second battle I got to watch her take a second P-38D Lightning. This time, all she had was a standard C-n-C computer and her new DDAI. Not only did she take out a full Squadron of VF-105 Thunderchief torpedo/bombers, but the C-n-C dropship that was controlling them. Mom that is a total of fifteen kills, and a ship kill in twelve hours. I’ve never seen a pilot with her kind of reactions or skills. And I’ve seen more than a few.”

“I think this is where I need to give a little background on my new sister, Majesty.” Sylvia smirked at the War Princess.

“Please do Major Cole, and it’s just Alice. I will not have formality during such a delicate situation.” Alice returned the smirk.

“Terresa, suffers from what is known as Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome. She was diagnosed with it back at the academy. H.H.S.S. is a genetic condition that under normal circumstances pushes an individual’s normal flight or fight responses to superhuman levels. Time seems to slow down for her during extremely high stress times, she can identify, track, and engage multiple targets at the same time, all while doing the crossword puzzle. She is the prefect test pilot. Now, her H.H.S.S. is on all the time.” Sylvia sighed over this last part.

“I take it that this new development has bearing on young Terresa’s abilities for combat?” Maiha asked bluntly.

“Yes ma’am, you could say that.” Sylvia answer Maiha quickly. “Both Colonel Kelly and I have a theory as to why Terresa was transformed into a Claymore.”

“Let’s hear it Sylvia.” Alice ordered.

“In order to save Terresa’s life and to preserve its own existence the Infiltrator accessed ALL of its programing. Between the COBRA programing and the aerospace fighter’s experimental ejection pod’s Emergency Life Support System the Secondary-Configuration was able to first save his life then repair the genetic quark. The problems occurred when the COBRA’s secondary protocols were reached. The ones that are missing. Part of our theory is these missing pieces forced the E.L.S.S.’s nanities to carryout the needed repairs and life saving procedures. Only without the standard weapons of all Secondary-Configuration and Second-Gen Death Dealers have.” Sylvia honestly answered as best she could.

“James any signs of splintering? I won’t have an unstable pilot out there.” Alice question James harshly.

“None mama. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear that Terresa has had her AI for as long as I have.” James said Terresa’s name with a smile. A smile that both Cole siblings caught along with both of his mothers.

Sylvester was the first to comment. “Let me give you some fast, hard, advice here Major Nakatoma. When it comes to my sisters, wear a steal jockstrap with titanium cup. Both are dyed in the wool ballbusters.”

Both of James’ mothers burst out laughing along with Sylvia as James blushed. He turned to Sylvester. “You know something Captain. Just for that crack I should stick you with one of my sisters and see how things turn out for you.”

“Sorry, James, but that threat won’t work anymore. Your sisters have each found their own loves now. Ahmie is already engaged. We expect Ohmie to receive her ring shortly. Besides right now we have a more pressing matter.” Maiha spoke up with some authority while pointing at the download from the crystal. “Our young Lieutenant Terresa Cole is a one of a kind Death Dealer. Let alone being a Claymore. Where is she now, James?”

“Planet side, mom. Why?” There was real worry in James’ voice now.

“Because my son, she is totally defenseless outside the cockpit of an aerospace fighter. She may also be the answer to our problems with Death Dealer fighter pilots and A.I. burnout. The Infiltrator A.I. program was modified specifically for controlling aerospace fighters at high speeds during combat. I don’t understand most of this and neither does my A.I. but I will have your aunts Nanase and Nanami take a hard look at this data. Hopefully they’ll be able to decipher the rest of the coding for us. Until then secure that Lieutenant. Understood?” Maiha’s last order didn’t go over well with the Coles.

Sylvia put their feelings into words. “You can shove that idea up your ass, your Majesty. Because I can bet you dollars to donuts that Terresa will escape whatever little box you try to stuff her in. Our sister maybe new to being a woman but she can out think just about every fighter pilot known to man. She could do that before her little upgrade without the use of a Death Dealer A.I. Now that she has one of her own it’s a whole new fracking ballgame. With that kind of computing power at her disposal she’ll be damned near unstoppable on the ground, let alone in the air.”

“Okay, Sylvia, what are we missing here?” Maiha asked in a calm tone. One that had sent First Lords of the Death Dealers running for cover.

Sylvester had heard the tales of the Empress becoming calm like this in the past. He jumped in to save the peace between his sister and the Empress. “Please forgive my sister’s rudeness Empress, but when it comes to Terresa she gets a little over protective at times. With the events of today she has become more than a little sensitive towards the idea of someone using our little sister as a guinea pig.”

Maiha sighed and looked out at Sylvia. “Major, please forgive me, I forget at times what it is like having younger siblings. Now, back to the question as to why placing your new sister into protective custody would be impossible?”

“We grow up on the frontier planet of Concord three, ma’am. We hunted, fished, and basically lived off the land. Terresa also has the standard escape and evasion training that all pilots have. Which she excelled at to the point of being first in her class. You put that all together and not only can she escape but live off the land for an indefinite period of time. All while evading our troops. Add in Terresa’s H.H.S.S. and Infiltrator A.I. you get the prefect storm for a downed pilot in enemy territory.” As Sylvester laid out the situation for all those in the room and the royal couple he could see the wheels turning.

Maiha sat back in her chair. “Well shit. Okay, people. Let’s get a handle on this situation and fast. First how can we keep Lieutenant Terresa Cole from going AWOL. Second how do we get her to help us with our A.I. burnout problem amongst our pilots. Third how do we do keep her safe. Lastly what do we give a fully trained test pilot with combat experience to do to keep her sane.”

“I got the answer for the last part. We have her design, build, and fly an aerospace fighter that can keep up with her skills and abilities. We have the resources at the New Texas research facility. Why not let her use them?” James quipped.

“James, if you weren’t my son, I would swear you were trying to keep the young lady close at hand. As you are my son I agree with you on that suggestion.” Alice smiled.

“I think I know how we can get the young Lieutenant to help with our burnout problem ma’am.” Colonel Kelly coughed. “If we can get Major Cole and myself reassigned to the research center on New Texas we can assign the Major as the Lieutenant’s primary flight physician. Between the two us we can monitor her flight performance. If the only reason she is immune to burnout is her H.H.S.S. we’ll know by the end of her fourth or fifth flight. If not, then we might be able to use that to remove the threat of burnout. Won’t really know until we study how the A.I. affected her H.H.S.S. For now, it’s all guess work.”

“Okay that takes care of two out of four problems.” Maiha pointed out only to have Sylvester correct her.

“Wrong ma’am. We have answers for all four of our problems. Keeping Terresa at the R-n-D center keeps her in a safe secure area. That solves two problems there. Lastly letting her design and build her own fighter will keep her from going AWOL.”

“Damn you’re sneaky Captain. It’s a good thing you work Spec Ops. Because anywhere else would be a waste of your talents.” Alice said as she gave him an appraising look. “Tell me Captain, are you currently involved?”

“Sorry ma’am, but I got a girl waiting for me already. We plan on tying the knot on my next leave.” Sylvester was doing his best to shift the attention of the royal couple off him as fast as he could. He wanted nothing to do with the royal family outside of being one of their officers.

“Oh well, Cassidy will just have to find someone else for her little girl.” Alice sighed before looking over at James. “And you, young man, give Terresa Cole time to come to terms with her new self before making any advances towards her.”

“Damn it, Mother Alice! Will you please stay out of my love life?!” James bitched. Then turned to face Sylvester. “Does your mother cause you this much grief Captain?”

“You’re lucky it’s only your mothers, Major. I got to deal with a nosey assed sister on top of my mother.” Sylvester griped just before both men chuckled and the women just sighed. Maiha brought them all back on topic.

“AS lovely as this has been we need to return to the business of the moment. Are there any more of these illegal A.I.’s running around?”

“No mom. I had them all secured and the scientists behind this fiasco dealt with.” The look that James gave Maiha let her know that the research team was dead.

“At least that is one problem we don’t have to deal with still. Colonel Kelly, Major Cole, you might have a better understanding of what went wrong with Lieutenant Cole’s transformation by studying the intact fighter A.I.’s. Besides them being Omega class Infiltrators do you have any other data on the type of A.I. that was used for the basis?” Maiha was curious about this one fact for a reason.

“No ma’am. The actual type of Infiltrator is still unknown to us. As the information regarding those particular A.I.s is classified above our clearances.” Kelly told Maiha before sighing. “I already tried to access the information and failed.”

“Mama Maiha, I watched Terresa fly and her reactions in combat. I believe that I have an idea to the type of Infiltrator that was used as the basis for the fighter A.I.’s.” James told them all. Then sighed because he knew this was a sore subject for his mothers. “They’re all Deep Strike A.I.’s.”

Maiha began to swear a blue streak a mile long, while Alice called the dead research team everything but a human being with a Christian name. James and the others waited until the royal couple regained their composure before attempting further discussion. “I hope you got that out of your systems mothers?”

“James Johnathan Owens Nakatoma, that had better be a rhetorical question.” Maiha snapped at her oldest son.

James just blanched at hearing his full name. He knew that he was on thin ice right now with his mother, the Empress Maiha. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good, because you know how I feel about those A.I.’s.” Taking a deep breath Maiha continued. “How certain are you of that assessment?”

“I’ll put a month’s pay on it. Then give you ten to three odds on top with an over-under of fifteen. That’s how certain I am mom.” When James started to give first a bet of a month’s pay then odds with a spread on points that wide the royal couple knew their son was dead certain. They knew their son gambled and was damned good at it, but he never placed a bet he wasn’t certain would pay off.

“James give me your opinion of the situation in the New Confederate System.” Alice ordered quickly. “Just how stable is that system?”

“We’re sitting on a powder keg with the fuse lit. The locals are already smuggling in arms. The Amazons have been trying to blockade the system with their private fleet assets and at present they have six known merc regiments planet side. Three per planet acting as enforcers. The Amazon banks are pushing for faster foreclosures left and right on the legitimate land owners. As well as attacking their mineral and water claim rights all across the planets in courtrooms both in system and in the Halls of Judges. The Amazon banks have the money to tie up the locals for decades in court hearings, while their mercs force them off their land.” James sighed and gave both his mothers a sad look. “Look, moms, you know all of this already. The damned Amazons have been pulling this shit for the past twenty some years now and gotten away with it in seven full systems so far. They need to be stopped. Here is just as good as anywhere else.”

“James, as long as the Amazons follow the law we cannot step in the way you suggest. Until one of the systems pushes back or wins a court case our hands are tied.” Alice went over the argument with their oldest son again.

“Well, if things keep going the way they are in this system there will be war.” James told his mothers with a great deal of heat. “And they won’t care who gets in the fracking way. OUR troops will be the ones in the middle trying to keep the peace. And it will get bloody; mothers.”

“We know, that James. That is why we have already issued orders for two more divisions to be moved in system. As for you, we had hoped that you would be able to transfer to another system but that is no longer possible. You will be transferred but it will be in system. You get to be the new commander for the research center. Congratulations Lieutenant Colonel, I hope you enjoy your new posting.” Alice quipped sarcastically. As James gave her a look of pure death and destruction. One that would have gotten his ass beat if he was back on Ryuk, the Empyreal Battle platform and seat of power for the Human Empire. Not to mention his home.

“Mom, told you that I will earn my rank the honest way.” James began only to have Maiha and Alice chuckle as Alice cut him off.

“You really need to keep up with your messages son of mine. You made the cutoff for LTC four weeks ago. You were already due to transfer out but there were no postings for brand new Lieutenant Colonels open. With the situation as it is in that system I want that R-n-D center protected. Take whatever troops you need to get the job done James. From wherever you have to. Understand?” Maiha ordered.

“Understood ma’am. Any chance of us getting one or two lances of the new Empress Class APS’s sent in?” James asked hoping to get at least one lance of the newest one-hundred-ton assault units.

“We’re trying to keep things from escalating here James. Not provoke them.” Alice gave her son a harsh glair. “Besides, I have a feeling that your greatest asset is already in system and planet side.”

“Just what might that be your Highness?” Sylvester asked wearily.

“The first ever Claymore pilot.” Alice answered Sylvester. “I have a feeling that we are bearing witness to the birth of a legend. One that will come to rival Death’s own Daughter in the skies.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 6
Medical bay aboard the Amazon Super Carrier Anaconda orbit around New Mississippi.

Flight Leader Emily Calisto sat fuming as the med-tech worked on her cyber prosthetic arm. Her prosthetic leg would take another three days to repair, because it would have to be replaced. Which was not helping her mood. The report from her personal aircraft mechanic wasn’t any better. Her beloved Marybelle would need two weeks in the repair bays before she was ready to fly again.

She still couldn’t understand how an out of date P-38D Lightning had been able to damage her KV-81 so severally that she was forced to retreat. Not only that but cause enough damage to her Sturmgewehr to the point she was injured. She still couldn’t understand how that pilot had managed to pull that maneuver. By all rights she had the Lightning dead to rights. There was no way for it to turn the tables and attack her first. Yet the pilot had done just that.

How that light weight fighter had been able to target and destroy her portside engine was beyond her. Especially from an inverted position. It should have been impossible for any pilot to do what that pilot did. Emily couldn’t do half of what she had seen that Lightning do. She just knew that it was being driven by an illegal A.I. system of some kind. She didn’t care what the tactical officers were telling her. She knew better. She was the premier Amazon pilot, not them.

With seventy-eight confirmed victories in air-to-air combat Emily Calisto was a force to be reckoned with in aerial combat. She had been genetically bread for aerial combat. Thanks to her injuries over the last ten years Emily had been forced to use illegal means to keep flying. To that end her left arm, and eye, along with her right leg had been replaced with cybernetic prosthetics. She even had an illegal obtained Death Dealer A.I. One that gave her an edge over most of her counterparts in the Amazon military. Yet, filthy males were telling her that the only aerospace fighter to score a damaging strike on her Sturmgewehr was manned by a living pilot. A test pilot just out of the academy at that.

Emily knew, just knew, that their spies on New Texas had to be wrong. Yet, every report she could get her hands on all said they were telling the truth. The problem was none of their spies could find out the name of the pilot. Also, the reports contradicted each other as to weather the pilot was a normal human or Second-Generation Death Dealer. Even going so far as to what sex the pilot was. None of this made any sense to Emily. Surely their spies within the civilian workforce at the Huston spaceport can find out those simple facts. The dropship that pilot had worked for landed three days ago, and still their spies had been unable to find any information on who the pilot is.

Then there were the reports from their spy within the research and development compound on the far side of the main continent. Reports that were as fascinating as they were disturbing for Emily. A new test pilot that was a Claymore. If the reports were accurate then that was who she faced in that Lightning. The one worrying fact was what this Claymore was doing with the Empire’s new aerospace fighter. These new F-1E5 Strike Eagle aerospace fighters truly outclassed her beloved Marybelle. Not only were they faster but they were better armed and carried more armor. These fighters would be the first of a new class in aerospace fighters, the Super Heavy or Fire Support class fighter weighing in between seventy to eighty tons. More than a match for her Flight’s KV-81 Sturmgewehrs. Thankfully those fighters were still experimental. Thus making them far too expensive for the Empire to use if things get out of hand with the genetic scum of New Texas.

No, her only concern when it came to the R-n-D center was that freak, the Claymore. She knew that the reports had to be mistaken as there had never been a successful conversion of a Claymore aerospace fighter pilot. Yet, their spy within the center was one of their most reliable. Nothing in the reports out of New Texas were making any sense to her. Even the reports on the fools refusing to just surrender to the superiority of the Amazon way of life.

To Emily the only path forward for the human race was through purpose designed cloning. The same type of cloning that had produced her and her family. Whole families of pure soldiers with unquestionable loyalty to the Amazon High Council and Grand Councils. Each member of their society was engineered for a sole purpose with their happiness in mind. Farmers were happy being farmers, soldiers were happy being soldiers and dying for the greater good, factory workers were happy being factory workers. This was the way of an ordered and peaceful society. The random combining of genetics and free thought were an antithesis to her and all Amazons.

The one thing that kept the gene-scum from taking over fully was the Amazons’ political clout within the Hall of Lords and Parliament. As Emily reread the latest reports from their spies on New Texas she found that a new Commander had been appointed to the R-n-D center. At first the name didn’t really register, then like a bolt out of the blue it hit her. The Crown Prince was now in charge of the security for the center. This piece of information made her pay closer attention to the rest of the report. When she saw who the new XO was Emily Calisto let her rage take hold of her for the first time in years.

The med-tech barely had time to get out of the raging High Class’s way a she throws glass and diner wear along with the reports she had been read across the room. All while screaming at the top of her lungs. “THAT GODS BE DAMNED SYLVESTER COLE JUST WON’T STAY FRACKING DEAD! WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO KILL THAT MAN?! WIPE OUT HIS WHOLE STINKING GENETIC FAMILY POOL?!”

Emily’s outburst brought help of the med-tech in the form of two doctors, four nurses, and six very large medical orderlies. The first doctor through the door to her room had to holler over her ranting. “Flight Leader Calisto, you will desist this unbecoming behavior this instant. I do not care if you are High Class I will not have you terrorizing my staff in this manner.”

The reaction from Emily was immediate and volatile as her outburst. “I beg your forgiveness my esteemed Doctor. I shall endeavor to control my emotions.”

“Thank you, Flight Leader Calisto. May we know what has angered you so?” the senior doctor asked of her politely.

“It is the contradicting reports from our spies coupled with some unwelcomed news that an old foe is still alive, esteemed Doctor. I had not meant to frighten the medical technician in my disgraceful display of emotion.” Emily hated the way her genetic programing made her react to those in authority at times. This was one of those times.

The two doctors sat down in the few chairs in Emily’s room. Each picking up a stack of reports off the floor. The two medical professionals passed the documents back and forth after reading them. It took them more than an hour to go through all the reports before they came to a final conclusion. One they knew Flight Leader Emily Calisto would not only hate but want to kill over.

“Flight Leader Calisto, these reports are accurate. We can also see why you became so angered.” The senior doctor told her with a heavy tone. “The pilot that you did engage was the same pilot that is currently a test pilot at the R-n-D center. That same pilot is indeed a Claymore, the first of its kind. And by all reports a very stable Claymore. As for the Crown Prince being assigned to the R-n-D center it would be a natural progression in rank for the gene scum.”

“Excuse me esteemed doctor.” Emily asked just as politely as they had addressed her. Even though she wanted to scream and pound the two doctors her genetic behavioral programing just wouldn’t let her. “How is it that our colleagues in the Intelligence Community have been unable to spot a rarity among the Empyreal as a Claymore within their pilots?”

“That Flight Leader Calisto is a question that the High Council is currently investigating with extreme prejudice. Four of the lower class, two of the educated class and one high class have already been recycled back into the Whole for this breach.” Emily shivered at the doctor’s comment.

To be summerly executed by cellular breakdown was terrifying. It was the ultimate punishment among the Amazon people. The idea that the High Council had sent a high class for genetic recycling was unheard of. The lower class yes, even a member of the educated class was a rarity. She knew that High Council were angered by this breach in their Intelligence Network if they were already setting this kind of example. Then a thought occurred to her.

“Esteemed doctors, could this sudden emergence of an undocumented Death Dealer be due to the Empyreal scientists using illegal A.I.? By that I mean could this Claymore in truth be a Secondary-Configuration and not a Second-Gen.”

Both doctors looked at each other then started to chuckle. They had heard the tales of the fearsome and deadly Secondary-Configuration Death Dealers from old. Everyone in the Empire knew of these tales. Especially those of the medical profession. Those deadly creatures were a thing of the past, now. Thanks in part to the work of First High Lord of the Death Dealers, James Owens.

“I understand that you would want that to be the case, Flight Lieutenant Calisto. Sadly, that cannot be the situation. Not with all the safeguards the Empire has put in place on their Death Dealer A.I.’s. No, this is a case of a Second-Generation Death Dealer Claymore surviving past its first flight and actual combat mission. As for how the freak slipped by unnoticed we have a theory that fits with the facts.” The junior doctor explained to Emily.

“Yes, this is a situation of member of the High Families or even a royal going through the Second-Gen process becoming a Claymore. To hide this from public knowledge the reject was given a new name in the hopes they die a glorious death. It would save face for both the High Family in question; as they would not want to accept a genetic freak among their ranks, and the Empire’s elite military force.”

As the senior doctor outlined their theory, Emily knew it was wrong. The Death Dealers accept all into their ranks. Ever since the Second-Generation process ‘fixed’ the problem with the original Death Dealer A.I.’s they replaced had the normal Empyreal Military across the board. They were still the premier military force to have ever existed. Only amongst aerospace fighter pilots were the odds still considered even between House troops and Empyreal troops. Then there was the idea that a High Family just writing off a member of the family because they exited their cocoon as a Claymore. Unlike the doctors, Emily had spent time among the gene-scum of the Empire. She knew that to these ‘free breeders’ family ties meant everything. While Amazons practiced genetically matching mates the concept was still abhorrent to the rest of the Empire. That and all children within the Amazon controlled worlds were bred by genetic engineering and tube grown removing the uncertainty of undesirable traits.

“Esteemed doctors, has any of your brethren figured out what causes the Claymores?” Emily still wanted to know more about these rare Death Dealers.

“They are nothing more than genetic freaks, Flight Leader. Put all thoughts of them being better than our perfectly genetic engineered pilots and soldiers from your mind. You are a far superior specimen than the Claymore could ever have been.” Emily wanted to smack the senior doctor for so casually dismissing the Claymores. These educational class fools were not the ones having to face off against an unknown enemy.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence in our abilities, doctors. I would like to get some more sleep, now.” Emily knew that her request would be granted. If for no other reason than the two doctors had been harping on her to rest more. She kept the smile from her face as the medical staff filed out of her room. Once she was alone Emily sighed and closed her eyes. “Damned fools are going to get our society dismantled with their attitudes. We maybe the perfect example of humanity, but they cannot see the one percent that pose a real threat. Like that damned Claymore.”

White Sands Research and Development Center, New Texas
Personal journal of Terresa Cole.
For the first three days I spent my time just getting signed into the unit. I still couldn’t believe that the Flight Sargent made me watch that middle school vid ‘Your menstrual cycle and you.’ I know that I have only been a woman for twenty-four days, but damn it. I’ve lived with two women growing up, not to mention four girls at the academy, to know about a woman’s cycle. Then there was the trip to the quarter masters for new uniforms, flight suit, helmet, and underwear; which I learned was called lingerie for women. I don’t know which was more embarrassing. The OB/GYN exam or the bra fitting. No, on second thought I know exactly what the most embarrassing moment in the past twenty-five days has been. Telling my mother, that her youngest son was now her youngest daughter.

To say mom was not pleased at hearing this news would be an understatement. She got even more pissed off when I had to tell her that I couldn’t tell her how it happened. When she demanded to speak with Sy, or Sylvia, I knew things were going to go from bad to worse. It took only four minutes and mom made her decision. When my mother makes up her mind about something, you can forget about changing it. She was on her way here and nobody was going to get in her way. I had six more days before retired full bird Colonel Andria Cole, Empyreal Military Medical Core touched down on New Texas. I was just glad my father wasn’t still alive. The idea of Brigadier General Jackson ‘Ironwood’ Cole showing up was enough to send most regimental commanders running for the hills. When you added in my mother there was pure hell to pay and it would be in the devil’s coin.

I still can’t believe that my new Commander is my worst nightmare. First off, he just has to be a royal, not just any royal, but the Crown Prince James Nakatoma. Second, the man is not even an aerospace fighter. All he understands is Armored Power Suits. He has no idea of how aerospace fighters work. Third, the man gives me the willies with the way he looks at me. If I didn’t know any better; I would swear he was looking at me with ideas of marriage. Well, dating anyway. My brother and sister aren’t helping matters either.

The only times I’ve gotten any peace of mind has been during two test flights. Both were with the new F1-E5 Strike Eagles. They are a true dream to fly. They are not the fastest bird in the air, but they damned sure are the most acrobatic. I know that the development team are not too happy with me after my last flight though. It seems that I pushed my bird a little too hard. They can’t figure out how I was able to stress the fuselage to the point of cracking. All I did was pull a seven-g inverted loop followed by an Ingram spiral. How was I supposed to know that the Strike Eagle’s airframe was not stressed for that kind of g’s. I still think the look on the designers’ faces was priceless when I told them they needed to shift three of the supports to fix the problem.

--- end of journal entry ---

I sat back in my desk chair and stretch. I double check the time to make sure that I’m not running late. With a smile I pulled up the zipper to my new flight suit and head for the door. I know that I can use just my bio-armor but after two years of wearing flight suits for my duty uniform I am pretty much like most other pilots. That and the Base Commander frowns on personnel in bio-armor only around the base.

I have another reason for wearing a flight suit that the other pilots don’t. Unlike the other pilots, I can’t change the color of my armor for some reason. Hell, my armor even lacks the stealth features of the regular Second-Gens. When I engage my bio-armor all I get is a brilliant metallic silver, which would be fine if I was on an ice planet. The problem was New Texas was more like its names sake. Parts of it were swampy, wooded, plains, or desert. With the desert areas having whole sections that are made up of fields upon fields of white sand dunes composed of gypsum crystals. I look out my rooms window at the white sand dunes that stretch over into the distance.

‘Lilly what is our progress for the new fighter?’

‘Currently, we are at sixty-one percent Terresa. The biggest problem we’re facing is the performance vectors of the current airframes in use. Each combination that we have tried fails. Even with the data I collected from our last flight with Strike Eagle I just cannot find a combination that will hold up to YOUR abilities.’

I thought about what Lilly just told me and sighed. It was as if for every step forward we take, we take two steps back. We had already gone through five configurations of airframes. All have failed in our simulator tests. The only thing that worked with each try was the aeronautics package for the Strike Eagle. It was everything else that made up an aerospace fighter that was the problem. We tried using every fighter in the current inventory and none of them could hold up to the maneuvers that my new abilities allowed me to perform.

The problems were everything from lack of power to too much power or lack of mobility to too much to the point of uncontrollability. We just couldn’t find the right balance between the two. Lilly had run simulation, after simulation, all to no avail. There was just no fighter, bomber, or ground attack craft that could stand up to what I could put the craft through. There just wasn’t an airframe out there that would work for me and Lilly.

‘Terresa, I really hate to tell you this but we may need to go outside of the inventory for our airframe. The only airframe that I have found that has all of our requirements is a defunct experimental airframe. One that was deemed too unstable for production at the time. I believe that with the new aeronautics package of the Strike Eagle and our enhanced abilities that we can make it work.’

‘Tell me about this experimental fighter, Lilly.’ I really hope that she was right.

‘For starters the airframe is not a fighter in the traditional sense. It was supposed to be a fast, long-range, high-altitude photographic reconnaissance aircraft. There were two prototypes built. The first prototype XF-11 used Pratt & Whitney R-4360-31 cyclone engines with duel thrusters. Each engine increased performance and stability, at the cost of increased mechanical complexity. Due to constant problems with the propulsion system, the second prototype had regular single thruster variants. Both variants were exceptionally fast and extremely maneuverable. Both were more suited for the roles of intercept fighters. As reconnaissance aircraft they were dismal failures.’

‘Why did they fail, Lilly?’ I was already liking where she was going. An experimental airframe that was both fast and maneuverable like the one she was talking about could fit our needs. The problem would be getting our hands on the designs.

‘They failed, because no one could fly them without crashing, Terresa. The design team that worked on those airframes could never find the right balance between avionics and power to weight ratio. I believe that if we use the aeronautic package from the F1-E5 and this airframe we would have solve both problems.’

I thought about what Lilly just told me. I knew that the F1-E5 had the foremost avionics and aeronautics package in the Empire. It took me pushing the two that I have flown to the very edge of their flight envelope to see that. They were a dream to fly for most people, to me they were ecstasy in flight. The biggest problem I had with them was they just couldn’t keep up with what I wanted them to do.

‘Lilly, just how old is that design?’

‘The XF-11 design predates the current Empyreal calendar by two-hundred-and-eighty-eight years, Terresa. The last known reference for this airframe is in the Royal archives as a failed experiment in aerospace craft design.’

There was something about that last comment that made me want to know why Lilly even looked at the design. ‘Lilly, why did you even look at an already failed design? Wouldn’t an already proven design be a better place to start? Especially a design that is over what seven-hundred years old?’

‘Because all of the proven designs just will not meet our needs. And the design is just over seven-hundred-twenty years old. Before you dismiss the design out of hand let me show it to you.’

‘Okay Lilly, you win. Show me what you think will be our perfect airframe.’ I figured that I would take one look and be able to tear it apart. Boy was I ever wrong. This aerospace craft was anything but a failure in design. It looked right from every angle. While the Lightning was a beautiful aircraft this one took the twin-boom center pod design to a whole new level. This aircraft was massive, mean, and shark like. It was a true apex predator of the skies. Even looking at the raw blueprints made my hands itch to be at the controls. Then I saw something that made me rethink the XF-11. It had no weapons and was a two-man crew. ‘Lilly where are the weapons on this beauty?’

‘That is this craft’s only drawback Terresa. It has none. But I believe that if we shift the pilot’s position back to where the copilot is and shift the central pod towards the rear by a full meter we can arm the XF-11.’

‘What kind of firepower are we talking here?’

‘Twice the number of beam weapons in the central pod of the Lightning and more than three times the number of missiles in wing mounted pods. There is also the additional fuel capacity for longer flight times without the loss to armor.’

‘Wait! Just what weight class is this baby in?’

‘It would be considered a heavy or fire support fighter. Just short of the bomber classes at seventy-five tons fully loaded. The other advantage we have with this design is the central pod configuration we can mount one of the new Gatlin Cannons.’

I thought about what Lilly was telling me. I liked what I heard. ‘Okay Lilly, setup a simulator for that design with the Strike Eagle package. Right now, I have got to get to my appointment with the base head shrinker.’

‘Play nice Terresa. The good doctor is only doing his job.’

If I could get my hands on Lilly just then, I wouldn’t be held responsible for my actions. I hate having to sit and talk about my feelings to some stranger. I really hate talking to shrinks and Doctor Andrew Freud is the biggest dumbass shrink on the planet. The main reason I hate the jackass is he thinks that he is the next great innovator in the fake science of psychology. I know that I’m putting it off but head to my appointment anyway.

As I walk down the hallways of the center I feel the eyes of just about everyone on me. I also hear the whispers. It takes all my control not to draw the Castle Arms .45 caliber automatic pistol on my side and just start shooting a few of them. The moment I have that thought I know I’m on the edge again. “Damn it, Terresa. Get a hold of yourself girl. If you don’t that quack will ground, you for sure.”

“Talking to yourself will also get you grounded, Lieutenant. Faster than shooting the support staff will.” The voice from behind me almost got shot. “Damn LT you really got to calm down there.”

I sigh as I look at the man that is both a valued part of my ground team and a hard-core pain in my ass. Chief Warrant Officer Larry ‘Lucky’ Daily has to be one of the best aerospace mechanics in the Empire. He also had more ‘blackmarks’ for disrespect to the High Families than I. The problem was he just didn’t give a shit about who your family was. The man was also one hell of a poker player.

“You know something Chief Daily. I’ve known your sorry ass for a little less than a month now. During that time, you have told me to calm down at least once a day. You have yet to give me a reason to calm down.” I snapped at the man.

“What can I say, ma’am? I see a nice young lady like yourself, being all nervous like, and I just got to help out.” The man gave me a warm smile. “Besides, Lieutenant. If you keep jumping at every little shadow the quack will ground the best pilot that we’ve seen in over ten years.”

I wanted to pound the man but couldn’t. I had to laugh at him calling Doctor Freud a quack. “Thanks Chief. I needed that.”

“All part of the job, ma’am.” At over seven foot tall, Daily towered over me. I knew that he was from Doreen V. I just didn’t understand why he was trying to be so damned helpful to me. As we continued walking down the hallway I thought about what I knew of the people from Doreen V. I knew that about twenty-eight years ago the medical community finally found an alternative cure for Bowden’s Syndrome that didn’t result in the castration or feminization of so many males from that planet. I had checked Chief Daily’s records. I knew he was too old for the new cure. So, he had to have been subjected to the old HRT regime.

Daily must have picked up on where my thoughts had gone. “Yes, ma’am. I got the old batch. Thankfully the Empress cleaned up my home planet. A lot more of us are serving in the Empyreal Military now, not just the House Units. All thanks to the new HRT cure that came out twenty-nine years ago.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude Chief. I know how that subject is rather touchy for your people.” My honesty must have surprised the big man.

“I got to say Lieutenant, you’re different from all the other officers I’ve dealt with of the years.” He blushed a little as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… no offence meant ma’am.”

“And none taken Chief. Trust me, I know I’m not your everyday officer. Hell, my brother and sister are more along the lines of what an officer should be. Even they are unorthodox at the best of times.” I chuckled at this last statement.

I knew that my family had a reputation. Our grandfather’s grandfather had set the precedence for five generations. In many ways I liked being on New Texas at the research center. Here most people don’t know a whole lot about my family and its history within the Empyreal Military.

We had reached the medical wing by this time. I gave the Chief a sideways glance, then smiled. “I take it that you were sent to ensure I made my appointment Chief?”

“Sorry, ma’am, but that’s on a need to know only basis. And you don’t need to know.” I wanted to pound the Chief, but I could only laugh at the old joke.

“Fine, Chief.” I toss the big a wave and head for Freud’s office. “I’ll catch you later.” I stop as Lilly reminds me of our little side project. “Yeah, Chief. Can I get you to do me a favor? There’s an aerospace craft design setup for a similar run. It currently lacks weapons. Could you see what you can do with it?”

“Sure Lieutenant. I do have to ask. You have been going through simulated designs like made. Almost every last one of them has been a failed design at one time or the other. Just what are you looking for in a fighter?” he knew what I was up to, so I gave the man an honest answer.

“One that will keep up with me and my A.I. Chief.” I smiled at him and headed inside Freud’s office. Of all the people at the R-n-D center only Chief Daily understood what I was hunting for in a fighter. I hear as the door closes.

“I’ll do what I can for you ma’am.”

‘Chief Daily is a very competent engineer Terresa. It was good of you to include him in your plans for designing our new fighter.’

‘I don’t know him being a good engineer, Lilly. What I do know is he has an innate grasp of fighter craft that the researchers lack. Like the old saying goes. It takes a thief to catch a thief. In this case, if you want to fix a problem aircraft go to the people who fix them on a daily basis.’ Lilly chuckled at my comment.

“About time you arrived Lieutenant. Sit down, we don’t have all day and you have already wasted more than enough of my time.” At Freud’s comment I almost shoot the fracking bastard on purpose. Just on the grounds that he is an arrogant ass hat. I know that I was close as my HUD painted him with a set of crosshairs. What I didn’t know was that there was a set of golden crosshairs covering my pupils and irises. The good doctor however did know. As they very clear for all to see. He got the blunt hint that he had crossed the line with me. “I see you’re having anger management issues, Lieutenant. I believe we’ll start with that first.”

If I didn’t have to be here and killing the man would not get me thrown in the brig, I would show him how I manage my anger. As it was I take a seat and breathe deeply. For the next half hour, the jackass goes out of his way to keep me pissed off for some reason. I swear if I didn’t know any better he was doing it on purpose. Finally, I have enough and lash out. All thoughts of his rank and him being a fellow officer went out the window. When you consider that he was a Major and I was a Lieutenant, it was pretty dumb on my part.

“Listen, you two-bit wannabe piece of shit in search of a medical degree! I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m suicidal or a danger to the base, but you need to get your shit together.”

“About time you let some of that simmering anger out Terresa.” Freud sat back with a smile. “I was wondering how long it would take. You actually made further than I or my staff had thought.”

That brought me up short. “Excuse me sir. But just what does that mean?”

“Terresa, until twenty-five days ago you were a normal healthy young of man twenty-two years. According to your medical records you were also extremely heterosexual in your orientation to the point of having four girlfriends during your time at the academy. With the exception of your rather singular medical condition you were the perfect example of a military test pilot.” Freud’s total change in attitude towards me threw me for a loop. “Now, you’re a seventeen-year-old female. One who has had one of the most powerful Death Dealer A.I.’s shoved into her head. Something you were never trained or prepared for. The mere confluence of this event is worrisome under the best of circumstances. Do you understand why the staff are so worried about your safety now?”

I took a few seconds before answering. “To be honest with you doctor, no. I mean it’s not like Second-Gen sex changes don’t still happen. I mean two of my classmates went through the process and became females.”

Freud sighed. “Terresa, I think you need to understand something about those changes. Most of them happen because the subject already suffers from some form of gender dysphoria. Part of the Second-Gen process addresses these problems in order to provide a more stable Death Dealer. You on the other hand never showed any of the signs for gender dysphoria. You already have one documented breakdown because of your new gender and the reactions of those around you.”

I wanted to tell him he was full of shit but couldn’t. He was only telling the truth. “Terresa you have been trying to grunt your way through this and that ain’t going to work. You can’t keep ignoring your new body like you have been. You are a beautiful young lady now. Men and women are going to stare. This is now a very uncomfortable fact of your new life. Walking around with your HUD actively painting everyone you see with targeting crosshairs is upsetting. When you add in the fact that one out of ten has an active Death Dealer A.I. as well. Sooner or later there is going to be a deadly accident for someone. Most likely for you, as you are without the weapons needed to defend yourself. Do you see where I’m going, yet?”

Sadly, I did. For the past twenty-five days I’ve barely done more than shower, go to the bathroom, and dress myself when alone. I hate my new body and it has been showing in my personal appearance. I may have put on a bold face for General Davenport and the Crown Prince during the Courts Martial but that’s all that it was. The only time I have been happy in the past few days was during my test flights and simulator times. Before I could even comment Freud went in for the kill.

“By the way, why are you out of uniform? I specifically stated for you to show in workday Class C uniform. Yet here you are in your flight suit. In direct violation of that order.” Freud might have thought he had me, but he didn’t.

“Sorry, doctor, but the workday Class C uniform for pilots is a standard flight suit. As much as you want to bust me for not being in uniform you can’t.” I smirked.

“That is what I’m talking about Terresa. For the last twenty-four days the only uniform you have worn is a flight suit. I know for a fact that you purchased two additional flight suits from clothing sales. No one has seen you wearing anything resembling a normal uniform or civilian clothing. Your work performance is beyond reproach but your interactions with your fellow officers is nonexistent. You go to work, eat, go back to work, have diner, then just disappear. This self-imposed isolation of yours is not healthy, Terresa.” I want to tell Freud to go frack himself. That he was wrong. The problem was he was right.

“Ah frack it! I’m doing my best here doc. I’ll try harder, just don’t ground me.”

“Terresa, I’m not going to grounded you unless I feel the need to. The problem has been you haven’t been facing your problems. That’s why you’re in here now.” At my blank look Freud sighed. “You have had two live test flights both of which damned near ended in crashes. You have logged another twelve test flights on the simulator that end in you crashing. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Doctor Freud, I’m not suicidal. I know what my actions look like but I’m just doing my job to the best of my abilities. The problem has been that I keep flying beyond the capabilities of the aircraft I’m testing. I just don’t know where the edge is for these Strike Eagles. I keep trying to find the edge is all.” I tell him in all honesty. I’m almost crying at this point. “As for the simulator flights, only half of them were in Strike Eagles. The rest were well a side project I’ve been working on. To let you know what that is I’ll just tell you now. I’ve been going through every fighter in the inventory trying to find one that I can’t fly past its envelope in normal combat situations.”

“I thought that was the case. With your H.H.S.S. and that D.D.A.I. of yours you would need a truly exceptional fighter to work with. I may not have your engineering knowledge for aerospace fighters Lieutenant, but I can grasp certain aspects of a fighter from a pilot’s point of view.” I gave Freud a sideways look. “My brother was a pilot with the two-ninety-second Blue Devils before being grounded due to combat related injuries. My only question along those lines is why are you just looking at current fighters? You have the mind for it. Design your own fighter.”

“I have already tried going that route doc. I’m just not a design engineer. Now, you give me a proven design and I tell you if it’ll fly. Along with what it takes to crash the thing. That’s why I have been going through the inventory one at a time. I’ll know the fighter when it comes along.” I was smiling over my explanation.

Whatever I said must have made an impression on Freud. “Alright Lieutenant, I’ll sign off on your flight status. You can keep flying but there will be conditions.”

I didn’t like where Freud was going with his conditions but knew I had no choice if I wanted to continue flying. “First off you will wear your Class A’s or B’s on two of the four days you’re not flying. Secondly you can only wear your flight suit if you’re scheduled for an actual flight or simulator time. Other than that, your uniform is Class C battledress. Lastly you need to get out of your room and see some of the base and surrounding area. You follow those three conditions and you can keep flying. You don’t, and you’re grounded until further notice. Do we have an understanding Lieutenant Cole?”

I knew that I was backed into a corner. The little bastard had out maneuvered me before I knew what was going on. I was just trying to get by through pure grit and plain old military ignorance. Not having to recognize and deal with the whole gender swap bullshit. Sure, I knew I was now a female for the rest of my life, but I had time to deal with this later, not right now.

“Yes, Major. Anything else?” I ground out through clenched teeth.

“Yes Terresa. Go get drunk and while you’re at it laid.” At Freud’s very blunt statement I blink my eyes a few times. Then start laughing.

Once I have myself under control I give Freud a friendly look. “Doc, have you taken a good look at me? I know what my id says, but do you really see a base or civilian bar allowing me to drink? They’ll throw my happy little ass out before I ordered my first damned beer. Not to mention one minor little problem. One that will basically have them calling for the mud puppies.”

“And just what problem is that Terresa?” Freud must what been waiting for this argument from the way he sat forward in his chair resting his arms on his desk. I didn’t care and plowed into the attack.

“I AM A CLAYMORE! YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I sat back in my chair knowing I had him now. Boy was I wrong.

“So fracking what Terresa. Who cares if you’re a Claymore. Just be yourself and people will leave you alone. You walk around here with a chip on your shoulder and then they’ll be looking to knock it off.” I gave the man a look that said he was stupid or naive. Freud just sighed. “Look Terresa, most military personnel know that Claymores are not some kind of barely controlled killed machine. You just have to give them a chance to get to know you.”

“That is where you’re wrong Doctor. So wrong that it is pathetic.” I stood up and turned to leave but not without giving him some advice. “You don’t hear the whispers in the hallways or chowhalls. Take some advice. Remove the rank and insignia, then walk around base talking to the enlisted. Then do the same with just your rank among the officers. Just ask them how they feel about having a Claymore on the base. I tell right now what you’ll hear.”

“And just what is that Lieutenant?” I could tell that Freud was taken aback by my challenge and wanted to prove me wrong.

“That one of two things happen. The first is easy. That I die during a test flight. The other is the brass transfers my ass to a combat zone to die. Either way they all want me dead so long as I don’t take them with me. I can tell that you haven’t spent much time around enlisted, Non-Coms, and combat line officers, doc. As far as the ass in the grass troopers go, Claymores are just as dangerous to them as we are to the fracking enemy. More than a few of them believe we should be placed in a box with a glass cover. A cover that reads ‘smash in case of war’.”

With that I snatch the door open and leave. As I jerk the door closed I got a good look at the look of utter disbelief on Freud’s face. It was an especially gratifying sight to see as I slam the door and storm down the hall towards the one place I knew that I would get kicked out. The base Officer’s Club.

As I exit the building I find Chief Daily standing next to a FAV. “The shrink called and let me know he pissed you off ma’am.”

“You could say that Chief. Any chance you got a bottle in that FAV?” I asked as I pointed at the fast attack vehicle. “If not just drop me off at the O club.”

“Get in Lieutenant. We’ll both go. Besides, nobody should have to get drunk alone or deal with shitheads by themselves.” We both climbed in the FAV. Once the big man settled behind the wheel I asked.

“Yeah Chief, why you doing this? It’s not like I’m your problem.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Lieutenant. You’re MY test pilot. That makes you part of my crew. I take care of my crew. Until they transfer your cute little ass, or you buy the farm, you’re my problem.” Then the big man smiled. “Besides, I have always loved pounding the shit out of bigots, assholes, and racists. With you tagging along I also get to watch as a barkeep has to swallow his damned bullshit over carding personnel because they don’t look old enough to drink.”

“Well then Chief you’ll get your wish. Because the moment that assholes tells me that I can’t drink in that club. I’m putting his head up his ass.” Chief Daily gave me a sideways glance as I let the anger I felt fill my words. “That quack wants me to get out more then he’ll get just that. Right along with the body count.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 7
White Sands Research and Development Center, New Texas
Private office for Lieutenant Colonel James Nakatoma.

James could not believe the stunt his mothers had pulled with assigning him to New Texas and WSRDC. It didn’t really piss him off so much as twist his tit. He had forgotten just how mercurial his mothers’ emotions could be at times. Or how fast his mother Alice could pickup on his emotions. “How mom Alice could spot my intentions towards Lieutenant Cole so damned fast?”

‘James, I have known your mothers for just under ten years now. In all that time I have yet to figure out one third of what they do.’ Stephen quipped.

‘Oh stuff it Stephen. You know that was a rhetorical question. I can’t remember when was the last time one of us kids got something over on either of our mothers. What gets me is no matter what we try to hide they see right through us.’ James just bitched to Stephen like this when he was bored out of his mind.

‘I take it you are getting tired already of riding herd on the scientists, James. I know this is not the posting you prefer but your mothers put you here for a reason. Namely your current problem child, Lieutenant Terresa Cole.’ Stephen’s voice carried a smirk in it at this last comment.

‘Tell me something I don’t fracking know, already Stephen. This latest report from Major Freud has me more than a little worried. What I can’t understand is why the stupid ass went and pissed her off like that. Hell, every last member of the military knows just how volatile a Claymore can be. If she had been a regular Second-Gen Claymore, he would be cooling in the morg right now. As it is no one knows where she currently is and that is more than a little concerning.’ James let the worry he felt over that young Lieutenant going ape shit fill his thoughts.

‘I believe I have a lead on her current location James.’

‘Well don’t take all day damn it. Where is she?’

‘The base Officer’s Club just sent in a request for the Post Military Police. They report that there is a minor using a false id to try and buy drinks. The description that was given fits our Lieutenant to the T.’

“Ah shit! Thanks Stephen.” James jumped to his feet and headed for his office door calling out for his driver. “Jacobs, get the FAV ready to roll.”

“On it sir.” The young Specialist ran from the office building for the Commander’s FAV. While James had only been in command for a short time, he had already set examples. The first of which was to fire the old Commander’s driver for failure to carry out his assigned duties. Specialist Harry Jacobs liked his new duties and didn’t want to end up like his predecessor. Pulling duty on the ice moon of New Georgia. Unlike the last driver Jacobs kept the FAV near the building but out of the way. It took him only a few minutes to have the vehicle in front to pickup the new Base Commanding officer. “Where to sir?”

“The O-club Jacobs, and step on it.” James growled out as he strapped himself in. “Use the horn and don’t spare the horses.”

Jacobs shifted gears and stepped down on the accelerator. Whatever was going on at the officer’s club must have been big for the CO to be heading there at this time of the day. Jacobs shifted through the gears only slowing down to handle the turns. The whole time James gripped the ‘oh shit’ handlebars tighter with each turn. He could have ordered Jacobs to slow down but didn’t. He knew that Terresa had been riding the ragged edge for almost a month now. All she needed was one dipshit to push her over the edge into a full-blown panic attack or hysterical break down. Either one of which could resort in body bags being filled.

James had read the fitness, hand-to-hand, small weapons, and training reports on Terresa Cole. While she may not have the weapons of a Second-Gen, Terresa was still twice as deadly as any known Claymore. That made her most likely the second deadliest person alive that he knew of, right behind his mother Maiha. Right now, that was his greatest worry. If Terresa lost the tight control she was keeping on her emotions James knew that she would end up killing some stupid asshole.

They reached the O Club just ahead of the MP’s. James wasted no time and jumped from the FAV. Heading inside of the four MP’s sent to deal with the altercation James could hear the sounds of a voice raised in anger. From the sounds of the individual they had a right to be angry.

“GOD DAMN IT! THAT ID IS REAL YOU WORTHLESS FRACKING PIECE OF SHIT!” The owner of the voice, when not screaming at the top of her lungs, would have a soft lilt that James found rather endearing. James was really sighing as he entered the main room of the Officer’s Club barroom. He was expecting to find a few dead bodies already. At least one or two in need of medical attention. So he was rather pleased to be proven wrong. Instead what he found was just as concerning.

There before him stood one very pissed off, Flight Lieutenant First Class Terresa Cole and her Chief Warrant Officer. What had the young lady pissed off was clear as the day was long. And on New Texas where the days were thirty-hours each rotation, that made for some really long days. James might have only been in command for the last twenty days, but he already had six complaints filed about this particular bartender come across his desk.

“STAND DOWN LIEUTENANT!” James’ bellowed order cut through the room. This had two desired effects. The first was to gain the attention of the people in the room, which was immediate. The second was to stop Terresa from pulling her survival knife.

From across the room a Second Lieutenant called the room to attention. “ATTENTION! COMMANDER IN THE BUILDING!”

“At ease!” James called out as he walked towards the bar and where Terresa was close to taking off the head of the bartender. “Lieutenant Cole you better have a damned good reason for raising this much shit during duty hours.”

Terresa wanted to crawl in a hole just then, but wasn’t going to let her CO place all the blame on her. Squaring her shoulders. “I’m not the one causing problems, sir. As for duty hours, I’m off rotation until tomorrow at Fifteen-hundred, sir.”

“What about you Chief Daily?” James questioned once he was close enough to not have to shout across the room.

“I’m off as well, sir. I thought I would keep the Lieutenant company as she got the shrink out of her head. The best way to do that is with a cold beer, sir.” Daily gave the answer with a straight face.

James turned to the bartender. “Okay, I can see why they’re here. Care to explain why you’re refusing them service?”

“I got no problems with the Doreen reject drinking here. At least he’s old enough to have earned the right to drink with honest soldiers of the Crown. I draw the line at letting in the gene-freaks likes that White slag hag. Ain’t none of them earned the right to drink with honest troopers.” The bartender didn’t even try to hide his bigoted attitude in front of James or the others. “You may be the Base Commander, but I still run this here Club. I can refuse to service to anyone I see fit. That includes you Colonel. Now get the hell out of my bar and take the ghost whore with you.”

James just smiled at the man. “I take it by the tone of your voice and your accent that you’re from Caledonia three. Correct?”

James had set his trap. He knew that his questioning of the man’s home planet would piss him off. All James had to do was let the jackass walk into it. Which the bartender did with relish. “Damned right I am. We don’t cotton to those so called equal rights bullshit the Hall of Lords and Parliament has been pushing. We’re God fearing members of the Amazon Collective.”

That was all James needed to hear. He smiled over at Terresa. “Lieutenant Cole, Chief Warrant Daily, do you wish to press charges for discrimination?”

It took the officers a few seconds to realize what the Base CO was doing. Terresa smiled and just nodded her head yes, not trusting her voice just then. Chief Warrant Officer Daily was more direct about things. “I’ll gladly press charges sir. Though I would prefer that you just left me alone with the ass in a locked room for ten minutes.”

“Sorry Chief, but I can’t do that. However, I will let you beat the crap out of our spy here if he tries to run before the MPs arrest him.” James told Daily.

“That won’t be happening Colonel. I already told you that I don’t answer to you once. That includes the Base MPs. This here is MY Club. I OWN it not the Base.” The man crossed his arms thinking he was in the clear.

James by this time had, had enough. His pistol cleared its holster in the blink of an eye. Not to be out done Terresa pulled her own weapon only she trained hers on the fourteen patrons. The snarl that escaped her smiling lips let them all know she was really to kill. “I have ten rounds. Only two of you are Death Dealers. Even if they want to try me I’ll still take out ten of your sorry asses before they can kill me. Who wants to die first?”

The two Death Dealer officers just smiled and sat back. One even waved for her to carry on. “Lieutenant Cole please feel free to fire. As far as myself and Lieutenant Jones are concerned these REMF’s are nothing more than moving hard targets.”

James just sighed. He had herd that there was a major problem between the combat units and the support units. What he just heard confirmed his worse fears. “That will be enough Lieutenant Martin. Lieutenant Cole holster your weapon.”

Terresa gave James a hard look but did as ordered. James smiled as he turned his attention back to the bartender. “I can blow your head off right here right now. And all I’ll have to do is fill out the ten-ninety-nine-A-seven for the expenditure of the round. By the way I hate to tell you this, no I don’t, this building like everything else on this base belongs to the Empyreal Military. In short you don’t own shit dick head. As far as the Amazon Collective is concerned they and you can go to hell. Because on this base there are only Citizens of the Empire. By that every last man and woman who wears the uniform are protected by the laws the Amazon Collective see fit to break. I for one will not tolerate such blatant disrespect of our service members or any citizen of the Empire. In my eyes your attitude places you firmly in the camp of our enemies and therefore a spy.”

James had just finished his little speech to the bartender when the base Military Police walked through the club’s door. A young Captain walked up to James and saluted. “Excuse me sir. Did you just level a charge of espionage against citizen Carter? I need for you to be exact in your wording sir?”

“I did Captain. I am filing charges of espionage, discrimination, bigotry, and blatant violations of Empyreal Antidefamation Laws.” James had no sooner finished laying out the charges than the Captain and the three escorting MPs reached for their weapons. Terresa, Daily, and the two Death Dealers’ didn’t even think twice as their weapons cleared holsters and deployed from armored recesses. James gave the Captain a sly smile. “I figured he would have called for his friends in the Provost Marshal Office, Captain. I would be very careful if I were you. I know for a fact that none of you are Death Dealers. The four officers that have you covered are. At this range they can’t miss.”

The four MPs moved their hands away from their weapons slowly. James had known about the corruption amongst the Provost Marshal Office from the first day he set foot on the R-n-D center. He was just looking for the right time to kick over the anthill and find the slugs. With the four men standing in front of him he had a good hunch that they would lead him to the ringleader.

Using his Network connect James contacted the special detachment he had on stand bye. ‘Major Cole, I got some rats for your team to pick up.’

‘Copy that sir. Where at, how many, and what do you want done with them?’

‘Five total, the base O’ club, and stuff them in a hole until I can talk to them.’ James ordered Sylvester over the network.

‘Copy, five for pick up, hold, and squeeze.’

James turned back to the bartender. “You get one chance Carter. Who is your boss on the base?”

“I want my barrister.” Carter demanded.

James smiled. “Wrong answer dumb ass. You’re a spy. You don’t get one. Now answer the question or else.”

Carter just snarked. “Or else what half-bred?”

Of all the names Carter could have chosen to call James he picked the one that pissed him off the most. In the past James had beaten the hell out of more than one person for disparaging his family name and blood lines. This time he had a someone with more reasons for handling the problem than he did.

“Lieutenant Cole, you are cleared to have fun. You may break all the bones you want but you cannot kill the man. Yet.” That was all Terresa needed to hear. She holstered her pistol and jumped over the bar grabbing the man by the throat as she went. Even at barely five-foot-tall Terresa was more than a match for the six foot, two-hundred and thirty pound, bartender.

The bartender was taken totally by surprise. He wasn’t the only one either. The four MPs, twelve Rear Echelon Officers, and two Death Dealer Lieutenants were stunned by the speed and strength of the petite woman. Only the two front line officers had any clue as to how deadly Terresa could be, as she broke the right forearm of the bartender. Only she didn’t stop there. Grabbing the fingers of the bartender’s right hand she broke them one at a time while singing a child’s nursery rhyme.

“This little piggy went market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, and this little piggy went wee, wee, wee, all the way home.” Finally having someone she could unleash her pinned up rage on Terresa was having far too good of a time. The smile that barely graced her beautiful face never reached her eyes. Even as Terresa was bending the bartender’s elbow in a way it wasn’t supposed to be, the smile never slipped or grew. It remained just as faint as it did disquieting.

‘James we really must spend some time in that young lady’s presence. If nothing else to give her tips on interrogation. I will say that she has a real flair for the dramatic.’ James’ A.I., Stephen rudely commented just before Terresa broke the radius and ulna of the bartender’s lower arm. ‘Oh I must say that is very unlady like, James. Are you planning on stepping in anytime soon?’

‘Honestly, Stephen, no. I figure the little lady needs this more than I need the intel that ass hat can give us.’ James just winced as Terresa hauled back on the bartender’s upper arm to the point that the humerus snapped like a dry twig. ‘Ouch! That had to hurt. If she goes for the clavicle next, I’ll really be impressed.’

James, Chief Daily, and the rest of those observing Terresa never got the chance to see what she would do next. From the doorway a strong male voice boomed out. “TERRESA! STAND DOWN! NOW!”

James turned and looked to see who the voice belonged. It was just as he thought. Even as Terresa stepped away from the crying bartender Sylvester Cole was stepping around the four stunned MPs. When Sylvester got a look at the bartender he just sighed. “Damn it sis! How many times do I have to tell you not to go for the right arm all the time. You keep doing that and someone will eventually figure out a way to beat your skinny little ass. Oh, and just who gave the okay for you to go ape shit crazy on a civilian? Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

“None. I got to do that on orders. Just ask our boss.” Terresa asked with a sly smile as she pointed at James.

“I’ll call for the meat wagon to see to the bartender sir.” Sylvester said with a sigh. Then turned to the rest of the room. “Who’s the rats sir?”

“Major, you can start with the mud puppies. These four were stupid enough to try drawing down on the Lieutenant, myself, and Chief Daily.” James had just pointed at the four Military Police and smiled. “Be sure they don’t talk to anyone and I mean anyone, until the Hunters get through with them.”

Never before had the Base commander for White Sands Research and Development Center hinted at the use of the Empyreal Investigators. For centuries the mere mention of the Hunters was enough to drive fear into the hearts of men, and women alike. For them to be here now could only mean that the Empress was finally stepping in. For Carter the very thought of being turned over to the Hunters was a greater fear than having to face his handlers.

“Wait! No that! I tell you what you want!” Carter was pissing his pants at this point. The main fear being turned into a High Priest for Freedom’s Landing.

“Start talking Carter or the Hunters get the left overs.” Terresa snarled. “I’ve had enough of your bellyaching already.”

“I said I’ll talk you freak.” Carter slid backwards across the floor on his ass. Trying to get as much room between him and Terresa. “You want the names of my handlers I’ll give them to you.”

“Talk.” James ordered. “You can start with your contacts in the Provost Marshal.”

“Say one word and it will be your last, Carter.” The MP Captain snapped.

“Major, I thought I gave the order to remove those men from here?” James questioned Sylvester coldly. “Do I have to repeat myself?”

“No sir. You don’t have to repeat the order.” Sylvester turned to the eight men that were with him. “Gentlemen take the enlisted away but leave the Captain behind. I think he needs a little encouragement to talk.”

As the three enlisted MPs were dragged from the O Club, Sylvester punched the Captain in the back of the head. “Personally, I hope the dip shit keeps his mouth shut. At least until Terresa gets to play.”

Terresa didn’t even think twice before moving faster than anyone in the room could follow. She was in front of the kneeling Captain in the blink of an eye. She had a hold of the man’s shoulders before anyone could stop her. With a simple twist of her hands Terresa broke the Captain’s shoulders at the same time. Even as the first scream was torn from his throat Terresa was snapping the man’s upper arms. She was moving towards the Captain’s forearms when James called out. “Hold Lieutenant! That’ enough. I don’t want the man dead. Yet.”

Terresa stepped away with the faint smile still playing across her lips. James noticed that the smile never left Terresa’s face despite the violence she had just unleashed. It was as if she enjoyed hurting the two men. James knew then and there, that Terresa Cole was more dangerous than she appeared. And she was also a more than a little on the edge.

‘James if she flies with just half the passion that she just showed. Then there’s not one aerospace fighter pilot or fighter that can match her. That young woman will fly pass the envelope of whatever fighter she is placed in. As for other pilots being a match to her skills, there are none.’

‘Stephen, I figured that much out back on the Singapore. The problem Stephen, is Terresa Cole is too close to the edge of insanity. Just look at the smile of hers.’ James’ debate with his AI was interrupted by Sylvester sighing.

“Terresa, will you wipe that damned smile off your face. It’s bad enough that you’re freaking out the Colonel, but you know how much that look makes mom upset.”

James looked over at Sylvester. “Excuse me Major Cole, but are you saying that your sister’s smile is normal?”

“Oh, it’s normal alright, if you consider that whenever she smiles like that someone gets hurt. My twin sister used to say that when Terresa gives you a half smile, start to worry. When the half smile becomes a full one, start looking for the exits. If you ever see a toothy smile, run. Run as fast as you can because a shit storm of epic proportions is about to make planet fall. It seems that part of Terresa’s personality is still intact.” Sylvester smirked before giving Terresa a sideways glance. “Only before it wasn’t quite so disturbing for some reason.”

James gave the two Cole siblings a strange look before commenting. “Major Cole, that smile is more than just disturbing. It’s downright terrifying. I would say that it’s borderline insane.”

“No, sir. That is Terresa at her most controlled. You really don’t want to see her on the edge. Like I said, you see a toothy smile run.” Sylvester replied with a smile of his own.

Terresa gave her brother a small pout then quirked her lips. “Okay Sy, I may have a small anger control problem but I’m not all that bad.”

“Sis, you are that bad. The only question I have is when you are going to admit to it.” Sylvester Cole may not know his younger sister all that well, but he did know his kid brother better than his twin sister ever would.

“The day I admit to that brother dear, is the day they serve ice cream in Hell.” Terresa never let the faint smile fade from her face as she looked down at the two crippled men. “Right now, we have more pressing business to conclude.”

“That we do Lieutenant.” James said as he walked up to the MP Captain. “Captain, you have to the count of five to answer my questions. Then I turn you over to the Lieutenant to finish her fun.”

“I’ll talk just keep the silver-eyed-witch away from me.” the MP Captain gritted out through his teeth.

“Then we’ll start with the bartender. Who is your contact within the Provost Marshal?” James asked coldly.

“I report to the Provost Marshal, and the Captain there.” Carter began to spill his guts before Terresa returned to finish breaking his bones. “After that there is the Head of Civilian Suppliers, and Department Head for Civilian Contractors. I don’t know who the top dog is, but the Captain does.”

“Well Captain you can pickup where he left off. Who’s the top dog spy on my base?” James snarled as he raised his pistol to point at the man’s knees.

“The Provost, is the ring leader. He gets reports from everyone else and passes them up the chain. Who gets the reports is beyond me. That’s all I know. I swear.”

James looked into the MP Captain’s eyes and nodded his head. Looking over at the two Death Dealer Officers. “Lieutenants Jones and Miller, you are to say nothing to anyone. The rest of you will be staying here until cleared. Understood?”

The rest of the officers in the club just answered with ‘yes sir’. While Miller and Jones stood straight and called out. “Death is dealt by our hand, sir!”

James felt real pride in serving with men such as those two, and the Coles. Looking down at the disgraced MP Captain, James felt only disgust and anger. Anger over the betrayal to not only the Empire but fellow soldiers, brothers and sisters in arms this man had committed. It was the anger over this that James had to keep under control. He was now more than a front-line officer. He was Base Commander and held to higher standards. He may be only a lowly Lieutenant Colonel, but he was still a Base Commander with responsibilities to more than a single battalion.

By this time another two squads of enlisted soldiers had arrived. Miller stepped forward. “We contacted our platoon Sergeants, Colonel. Those are our men. We can trust them. What do you need from us, sir?”

“Secure the REMFs and the club AO. After that talk to Major Cole. He’s the new CO for the Security Company.” James looked over at Terresa and Chief Daily. “Lieutenant Cole, not that I don’t appreciate your work here today but what started all of this in the first place?”

“Its like Chief Daily said sir. I had just got done with a doctor’s appointment with Major Freud. When I came out I wasn’t in a really good state of mind. The man had pissed me off something fierce. I was wanting to hurt someone bad.” Terresa sighed as she looked down at her hands. “When I came out of the hospital Chief Daily suggested that I needed a drink. I agreed with the Chief. He did warn me that we might get some flack off the bartender, but I didn’t care. I’ve been getting shit from just about everyone on the base because of my appearance. When the man started with his bigoted horseshit I had enough. He didn’t even try to hide his attitude towards me and the Chief.”

“So, you went and decided to educate the man, little sister?” Sylvester snapped at her as he reached over the counter into the beer cooler. Pulling out seven Golden Crowns he started passing them out. “You just had to go pissing in the man’s cornflakes instead of walking out and calling the Base CO. How many times do we have to have this conversation?”

“Oh quit your damned bitching Sy. At least we uncovered part of the spy ring on the base. You can’t blame me for the jackass’ attitude.” Terresa mumbled as she snatched one of the beers. “Who cares if he gets sent to the chamber? I finally get to have that drink.”

As she started tossing back the first of what would be many that day James, Sylvester, and the other Death Dealers just chuckled. If anything, Terresa Cole had just cemented her reputation as a real officer of the Death Dealers. She maybe the only aerospace pilot among their ranks but she was one of theirs. The Support Command Officers saw something way different.

In their eyes it was not a group of Death Dealers welcoming one of their own. It was something far more dangerous. This was the Death Dealers accepting a demon amongst their ranks. A demon that should have been put down the moment it stepped out of the Second-Gen tanks. Yet this silver-eyed-witch was a pilot with fifteen confirmed kills already. Everyone on the base heard of her bravery during what was already being called the Singapore Incident. With nothing else to do and not wishing to piss off the Combat Officers they walked over to the bar. One of them, a First Lieutenant, walked around to the backside and started serving drinks.

Offices of Major Sylvia Cole, WSRDC Medical Center.

Sylvia sat back in her chair and studied her counterpart, Major Andrew Freud, Doctor of Psychiatry. Sylvia knew why the man was in her office. She also knew what had pissed off her younger sister, Terresa, about the man. Sylvia had dealt with egotistical ass hats in the past, but Freud took the cake. Sylvia waited until Freud finished before addressing the man’s concerns.

“Now, as you can see, unless Terresa faces her insecurities she will lose control at some point. Most likely while at the controls of a very expensive aerospace fighter. As medical professionals we must do something. If nothing else, we have to get her to face facts. Even if we have to force her.” The smugness in Freud’s voice let Sylvia know how he felt they should go about helping her sister.

“Andrew, I must say that you have presented a very comprehensive and thorough diagnosis of Lieutenant Cole. How do you think we should proceed?” Sylvia asked with a sickly sweetness that bordered on outright disrespect.

“There is no need to be sarcastic doctor.” Freud snapped.

“That is where you’re wrong!” Sylvia was fighting to control her temper and losing. “YOU STUPID ASS! DO YOU REALIZE HOW CLOSE YOU CAME TO SENDING MY SISTER INTO A KILLING FREENZY?! JUST BECAUSE YOU THINK SHE NEEDS TO GET FRACKING LAID!”

“My prognosis is the correct one! She must face her new sexuality! If she is to have a healthy heterosexual relationship she must accept the fact she is a woman now! If she continues to ignore this very basic fact of life it will lead to unhealthy sexual and deviant behavior.” Freud just didn’t understand why this upstart of a doctor refused to see the truth of the matter. “Your sister is pushing herself to the point of having suicidal and homicidal tendencies. Then there is this nonsense of being considered an outcast because she is not a regular Death Dealer. Why the idea of making Claymores some kind of superior killing machine is nothing more than pure superstition.”

Sylvia sat back in her chair stunned at the man’s monumental stupidity. To consider the fears of Combat troops as nothing more than superstition was beyond comprehension for Sylvia. “Major Freud, how long have you been in the service?”

“For just over two years now.” Freud stated proudly. “I joined after completing my residency at Harvard on Earth Prime. I received my commission shortly thereafter. Why do you ask?”

“Because for you to have so little knowledge of our military you have to be a FRACKING ninety-day wonder! It’s a miracle that Terresa didn’t take your head off! If I didn’t know better, I would say you were the one with the death wish. Instead you’re just a total dumbass without a clue as to what you’re doing.” Sylvia breathed deeply to regain control over her emotions. Once she had regained her calm Sylvia opened her eyes and looked Freud in the face. “Major Freud, take some advice here and act on it. Cancel all your appointments for the next two weeks. Take that time and spend it among the regular troops on this base.”

“That sounds similar to what your sister told me to do. I don’t see how that will help. I mean what can those commoners have to teach me?” Freud sniffed.

At that point Sylvia lost control. The anti-personnel laser burned a hole between Freud’s thighs. Freud never saw where Sylvia drew the weapon from, his eyes were riveted to the end of the barrel. The snarl of Sylvia’s words pulled his undivided attention back to her face. “You ever disrespect our fellow members of the military again I will personally castrate you by APL. This is your only warning.”

“How dare you! I’ll have you up on charges!” Freud stopped mid rant. It might have something to do with the barrel of Sylvia’s weapon pointing at his forehead. “Um… maybe we got off on the wrong foot here Doctor.”

“No Freud, we didn’t. You made four mistakes this day. The first and last of which was pissing me off. The second was disrespecting our fellow soldiers and their beliefs. Thirdly thinking that a Claymore is nothing more than a normal Death Dealer. Someone that every Death Dealer, and regular military person fears because they are as deadly as their reputation. Lastly, but most importantly, tell my sister, who just so happens to be a Claymore, that she needs to get laid. A person who is having enough problems adjusting to her new sex, but to throw that in ‘on top’ is just too stupid for words. She has every right to be pissed at you.” Sylvia stood up, so she could place some distance between herself and Freud. “Take the advice and get out of my office. Before I do something, I regret.”

Andrew Freud knew he wasn’t going to get any help from this stupid woman. He stood up and started for the door. “If you won’t help me with your sister then I’ll just have to go to the Chief of Staff and ground her.”

“Freud, that will be the last thing you want to do.” Sylvia tossed over her shoulder. “But that is still your right. Just remember one thing.”

“And what is that Cole?”

“I out rank you.” Sylvia turned to face Freud. “I have also served under our current CO. Colonel Rottweiler has a problem with most shrinks and you have yet to earn his respect. Unlike you, he’s a combat doctor.”

Freud just turned on his heels and stormed out the door. As he pushed his way through the hallways towards the Chief of Staff’s office Sylvia sighed and place her call. It was answered on the second ring.

“Afternoon Major Cole. I take it that our favorite twit is on his way to see me?”

“Yes sir, that is correct.” The sigh that escaped her this time was one of relief. “Sir, I know this is going to sound screwed up, but I’m glad he’s your problem now. If I had to deal with much more of his shit I would have shot him myself.”

Sylvia heard the sigh in Colonel Rottweiler’s voice. “I take it that Freud still has failed to grasp the danger.”

“Sir, it’s worse than that.”

“How?” was all Rottweiler asked.

“You’ll have to forgive my language sir. Major Andrew Freud is fracking stupid egotistical ass clown that needs to have his balls cut off with a dull butter knife. In the words of Lieutenant Terresa Cole. He is a two-bit wannabe piece of shit in search of a medical degree. Only I would have called him a medical school reject on top of that. The man has no clue when it comes to the mindset of your average soldier let alone a Death Dealer. In his eyes the fears of those soldiers are nothing more than silly superstitions. I won’t even go into his opinion on the education of our troops. The man is just too full of himself for his own good, sir. In truth he is nothing more than an overeducated moron using the military to payoff his student loans before hanging out his shingle.” Sylvia sighed. “Sir, I fear the complaints about Major Freud are true.”

“I see.” Rottweiler had been receiving complaints from more than a few of the hospital staff about Andrew Freud. Almost all the complaints concerned his treatment of patients. Not just his own, but the patients of other doctors. “Thank you for letting me handle this situation from here out Major Cole.”

“You’re welcome, sir. I just hope you can do something about Freud before he sends one of our troopers over the edge.” That was Sylvia’s real fear. Not that Terresa would hurt Freud but that one of the enlisted soldiers would.

“I have things in hand Major. You can rest assured about that. Have a good day.” Rottweiler disconnected, and Sylvia sat back heavily in her chair.

“I hope like hell you do Colonel. If not Terresa may well solve our problem in a bloody manner by removing Freud’s head literally.”

The Office of Colonel Robert Rottweiler, Chief of Staff.

Robert leaned heavily against his desk. The conversation with Major Sylvia Cole had greatly upset him. He had hoped that Freud would get his act together here. The man had already been transferred twice in two years. This was his last chance to prove he could provide a professional service. Sadly, the man had failed. The buzz from his intercom let him know that Freud was waiting to see him. Reaching over he hit the button. “Show Major Freud in Sergeant.”

The door to his office opened and Major Andrew Freud stepped through. Robert could tell by the look on the man’s face he was angry. Robert decided to cut to the chase. “Alright Andrew, what’s got your goat this time?”

“Sir, as much as I wish that I didn’t have to. I have to file a complaint against Major Sylvia Cole. The Major has turned a blind eye to the danger of letting her new sister just walk around. Lieutenant Cole is on the verge of a total mental breakdown. Unless the Lieutenant is forced to face her problems, I cannot in good conscience sign off on her flight status. The young woman is border line suicidal.” Freud knew that the Colonel would back him and his plan for treatment of Terresa Cole. He just needed to get Sylvia Cole out of the way.

“Andrew, how long have you been in the service now?” Robert asked catching the man off guard.

“Just over two years now sir. That has nothing to do with the current situation.”

“But it does Andrew. In truth you have been a member of the Empyreal Military for two years, five months, one week, and three days. Far less than Major Cole. An officer that has earned the respect of every one of her Commanding Officers. You on the other hand have yet to earn the respect of just one Commander. You don’t even have the respect of your fellow officers. Not one of them. I have a stack of complaints over there on my desk along with requests for your immediate transfer. I know that you are just biding your time until your hitch is up.”

“That sir is not the problem. The problem is people refuse to accept new methods of treatment that is all. Surely you can see this?” Freud smugly said.

“Wrong Major. It is not the idea of new treatment methods, but your continued disrespect of your fellow officers and soldiers. You are a continuous disturbance in MY hospital. One that I will no longer tolerate.” Robert watched as Freud’s shoulders slumped over. He knew the man was surrendering to his fate.

“Where am I being transferred to now, sir?”

“You are not being transferred Major. You’re being giving a choice.” The cold hard tones of Rottweiler’s voice sent shills down Freud’s spine.

“May I have time to decide?”

“No, you may not. I will have your answer before you leave this office today. First, you can face a Courts Marsal where you will be charged with Gross Insubordination, Conduct Unbecoming of an Officer, and the big one, Enlistment Under False Pretenses. Before I get to your next choice let me lay out what these charges mean for you. Each charge holds a ten-year sentence on Pelion three at Sandspur Supermax Prison. Each sentence to be served consecutively. To be followed by a Dishonorable Discharge from Service. What that means is your license to practice medicine is worthless. You will owe the total debt for your medical training and school to pay back. Do you understand where this is going Andrew?” Rottweiler’s voice was harsh and uncaring as he laid out the facts for Andrew Freud.

“Yes sir. I understand. What is my second choice?” Freud asked weakly.

“I knew you were smarter than you looked, Andrew. Your second choice is you resign your commission here and now. Return to your quarters, pack your belongings, and catch the next Clipper class dropship out of this system. The Service will pay for a one-way ticket to get you and your belongings home. Those are your choices. Stay here and face a Courts Marsal followed by thirty-years in prison and a Dishonorable Discharge or resign and get the hell out of this system a free man still able to practice medicine but with only half of your debt paid off.”

Andrew Freud was many things but stupid wasn’t one of them. He knew that he had finally pushed things too far with one too many commanding officers. “I’ll take the resignation sir. It’s better than going home in shame.”

“You just don’t get it Freud. You’re not leaving under favorable conditions. The War Department will be informed of your fraudulent enlistment. That will effect what contracts and patients you will be able to see.” As Rottweiler laid out the truth of Freud’s situation the man slouched in defeat. Handing over a pen. “Sign.”

Freud knew he was defeated and signed the resignation on Rottweiler’s desk. “I’ll be off the planet by the end of the week sir.”

“Wrong Freud. You’ll be off the planet sooner than that. There is a Clipper due to take off from Huston Spaceport in two days. That gives you enough time to pack your shit and get off my base.”

“That’s not nearly enough time to pack sir. Why it’ll take me a whole day just to secure my notes and patient records. That’s not to mention all my research data.” That’s when Rottweiler knew Freud’s real plan.

“You can forget returning to your office Freud. There are two MP’s outside waiting to escort you out of the building.” Rottweiler hit the intercom button again. “Send them in Sergeant. Mr. Freud will be needing that escort. And Sergeant, send a Cleaner Crew to his former offices. Total slash and burn of all materials. That includes the good doctor’s private files.”

“You can’t do that!” Freud screamed. “My life’s work is in those files.”

“Not only can I, Freud, but it is my duty as the Commanding Officer of this Hospital. You will not be extorting the service members of this base or any other.” At that point in time the door to Rottweiler’s office opened and two Military Police officers stepped inside. “Corporals escort this gentleman to his quarters and insure that he does not leave until he’s ready to leave for Huston Spaceport. He is only to take what is his personal effects. No files, data crystals, not even a computer terminal understood?”

“Yes sir, nothing but the shirt on his back.” One them answered.

Freud looked at the two MPs and knew he was no match for them. They were combat support soldiers and he had nowhere near their level of training. With his head bowed Freud left Rottweiler’s office, in the company of the two MPs, with a broken man.

-----tbc-----

Chapter 8
Battle Platform, Ryuk, somewhere in the Hades System
Maiha stood looking out across the system that had become her home for the last thirty years. “Ryuk you got a minute old boy?”

“Always for you my Empress. What has you up at this hour of the night?”

“Ryuk, how many times do I have to tell you just to call me Maiha?” Maiha grunted.

“Until the day you are no longer among us Maiha.” The ancient AI replied with a chuckle. “Now what has you walking the corridors of my bulk at this ungodly hour?”

“The situation in the New Confederate System old friend. I just cannot figure out what the Amazons are up to?” Maiha admitted.

The ancient battle AI took a few seconds before answering. “Maiha, I have spent the last twenty-one seconds analyzing the data coming out of that system.”

The fact that Ryuk took a full twenty-one seconds to analyze something floored Maiha. She knew that the ancient AI was not as fast as the newer battle AIs but he had centuries of experience to draw on. So he was able to compare the past with the future at phenomenal and formidable rates. “What have you come up with old man?”

“At this rate the populations for the planets of New Texas and New Carolina will be in open rebellion against the Amazon High Council and Grand Council shortly.”

“Have you been able to pinpoint the boiling point?”

“Sadly, it will be the final judgement in the Hall of Justice. The Amazon Miners Guild have the financial backing to drag the rightful landowners down. When this happens, those proud people will rise up in defiance refusing to just give up the land they have worked so hard for. They will not step aside and let the miners or the Amazon High Council push them off their land.”

“How bad will it get Ryuk?” Maiha asked in disbelief.

“Remember Sherwood and the Battle for Kelly’s Crossroads? Or the Neo French Cambodia Wars just over ninety years ago? That is how bad it’s going to get Maiha.”

Maiha could not believe her ears. The two most hated times in her life revolved around those two wars and those battles. The fact that Ryuk would even suggest a war of those scales sent chills through her. “Are you sure about that Ryuk?”

“Maiha, in the thirty years plus years we have known each other, I have never lied to you. I may have pulled your leg every now and then, but I have never lied to you on matters of State or Warfare. No matter how it gets sliced this is one shit pie that we are all going to have to take a bite out of.”

“Damn it! Why have the Amazons pushed it to this point? Can’t they see the swamp they’re dragging the Empire into? The blood that will be spilled on both sides is the blood of the Empire.” Maiha was pissed. “How many divisions are in the New Confederate System? Not just Death Dealers but all Empyreal Military.”

“Not counting the one regiment of Death Dealers and one regiment of standard support troops that are currently assigned to the research center we have a total of three Death Dealer Divisions and seven Standard Empyreal Military Divisions in system.”

Maiha thought long and hard about what Ryuk just told her. Ten divisions of Empyreal troops in the New Confederate System. Of those ten, half were support divisions. If things went the way Ryuk predicted, then it would be about an even fight. “And the Amazons’ forces. What are they at?”

“The Amazon Collective has been funneling in more troops secretly over the past several months. The evaluation of their troop strength that your son James gave was woefully under estimated. I would place the Amazon forces closer to ten full combat divisions with full air support.”

“Any idea of where the Amazon Carrier has been hiding or what size?” Maiha asked.

“I have run the calculations a few times Maiha and they all come up the same. There has to be two Super Carrier Class dropships with their battlegroups in that system.”

“What are our assets when it comes to aerial support for the ground troops Ryuk?” This was Maiha’s only real concern in the NCS.

“Nowhere near what the Amazon Collective has Maiha. In truth the aerospace fighter and bomber units on those two planets are woefully inadequate. There is only one Fighter Regiment and one Bomber Regiment. Before you ask there are no truly dedicated Ground Attack Craft. The biggest airborne asset those divisions have is their attack helos and Fire Support APS units.”

“What of the R-n-D center at White Sands? How about those assets?” Maiha asked as she reached into the pocket of her robe. Pulling out a pack of Empire Gold Cigarettes Maiha pulled one out and lit up. Now it was the concern of a mother that filled Maiha’s voice, not that of an Empress.

“Maiha you know that Princess Alison will be pissed off at your smoking in the observatory again.”

“I know, I know. Now tell me what the status is of those two Regiments at the R-n-D center old friend.” Maiha just drew in the rich flavor of the Empire Gold. These and a good bottle of Scotch is her only indulgence.

“Of the two Regiments only, the Death Dealer Regiment is a combat Regiment. As for the Regular Empyreal Military Regiment it is your standard Combat Support Regiment. Maiha those two Regiments would be hard pressed to hold that base if they were attacked. Even with the experimental aerospace fighters that base will be overrun in a matter of hours, Maiha.”

Maiha took a deep drag off her cigarette as she took in this information. Looking out the crystalline dome Maiha knew that Ryuk was most likely correct. A Light Regiment was no match against an attack by Armored Power Suits without some kind of fortifications. That was where the Support Regiment could very well turn the tide. Well dug entrenchments, hardened bunkers, with fortified gun batteries, could turn a simple attack into a bloodbath. For the attackers.

“Do you think James will figure that out in time, Ryuk?”

“Of all your children Maiha, James is the most like yourself. He is just as much a military genius and tactician as you. He is still young this is true. I would give you even odds that he has already spotted the weaknesses surrounding that base. The question is will he have the time to correct the situation.”

Maiha stood there silently smoking her cigarette going over what Ryuk had said about James. All of what he said was true. Of the five children she and Alice shared, James was the most like her. Her twin daughters Ahmie and Ohmie were very much like their aunt Fuyuko. They were in many ways the perfect planetary managers. Jerry was so much like their grandmother Dai Etsu that he joined the family temple. Only her youngest son Richard was like James. While Richard wasn’t the tactical genius that James was, he was by far the better APS pilot.

“Tell me something Ryuk. Those new Strike Eagles are they as good as the research team claims them to be?” Maiha asked between lighting her second cigarette and putting out the first one.

“In the hands of most pilots they are as deadly as advertised. The current test pilot has already made suggestions that have improved their performance immensely.”

Maiha chuckled. “I take it that Flight Lieutenant First Class Cole has pushed the few she has flown beyond their breaking points.”

The rich chuckle of Ryuk’s laughter filled the room. “Maiha that young woman is no mere test pilot. If I didn’t know better, I would swear she was trying to kill herself in her test flights.”

“I know what you mean old boy. If she is anything like her older brother and sister, then she’ll fly every aerospace fighter she is given to its limits. Then beyond. The problem will be finding a fighter that will not fail her skills.” Maiha drew in deeply on her cigarette. As she exhaled Maiha let a small smile play at her lips. “Did you know before her sudden transformation he was already an accomplished pilot at the academy. One so good that her Instructors were pushing to get her a waver for an Omega Class A.I. upgrade.”

“That would explain all the exceptional EVALs in her file. As for finding a fighter that can handle her skills that could be a problem. I have run two-thousand-nine-hundred-eighty-eight simulations for all of the current aerospace fighters in the inventory with Lieutenant Cole as the pilot. All have ended up with the young woman flying the fighter past its flight envelope. I am currently going over multiple configurations of various fighters to find something that will compensate for the exceptional skills of the young woman. So far I have yet to find one that works.”

“Damn. James said that there wasn’t a fighter out there that she couldn’t fly to the breaking point and back.” Maiha had to admire the young Lieutenant’s ability. With real sadness in her voice Maiha returned to the troubles with the Amazons. “Ryuk I know you have analyzed the political and strategic actions of the Amazon Collective over the last thirty years. Why would they push so hard now? Why deviate from what has been for them a proven method of nonviolent conquest? It just doesn’t make any sense. They don’t have to push like this. It’s almost as if they’re trying to force the Empire into a military solution.”

“Maiha, I believe I know what they are trying to do. Only it will not work for them. They do want the Empyreal Military to intervene. Their hope is to draw our Military into a very long and protected war. One that will become extremely unpopular very quickly. That war will allow the Amazon Politicians push for cuts in the Empyreal Military and a return to pre-succession war policies.”

Maiha took a heavy drag off her cigarette while thinking about what that would mean for the Military. Before the last war of succession the majority of the military force was in the hands of the High Families. House Units made up the majority of Planetary Defense Forces and mercenary units were often the preferred military force. The Empyreal Military under Maiha’s guidance was now the primary defense for the Human Empire. That includes the Empyreal Navy, Army, and Marines with the Death Dealers remaining the premier Military Unit.

It had been her reforms that had forced the High Families to reduce their standing forces. For the first ten years of her reign Maiha had been able to bring a peace between the many factions within the High Families. If it had not been for the continued actives of pirates she would have been able to consolidate all the military under Empyreal control. It was those same damned pirates that had allowed the High Families to rebuild their private military forces to include navies. Thanks in part to the Antipiracy Laws passed in Parliament.

Then Ryuk let the other shoe drop. “If my calculations are correct Maiha, the war will also be a three-prong war. Amazons one-side, the citizens of the NCS on the second, and the Empyreal Military stuck in the middle.”

“Can those civilians even mount a defense against the Amazons?”

“Not only can they, but they have the will to do so for far longer than the Amazon Collective believes. These are not your average colonist Maiha. A great many of them trace their ancestry clear back to the American Civil War Confederate States.”

“OH SHIT!” Maiha exclaimed. “You have got to be kidding me?! An enter system of diehard Confederate descendants. Just what I need on my hands. This is going to make Sherwood, and Neo French Cambodia look like a damned beach party!”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand Maiha.”

Maiha sighed. “Between April eighteen-sixty-one and April eighteen-sixty-five the United States of America fought what has to be the bloodiest Civil War in human history for one nation. More than a million and a half men, from both sides, died during those four years. The sad part is the war may have ended after four years, the animosity between the two sides went on for generations.”

“Now I understand why this situation has you so upset. I doubt the idea of there being several former aerospace fighter pilots on those worlds would be of a comfort then.”

“How many former pilots are you talking about, and how many of them are Aces?” Maiha was praying the number was only a handful.

“Between New Texas, and New Carolina, there are eighteen former Empyreal Military Aerospace Fighter Pilots. All are Aces, but only four multiple Aces. Of those four only one is of note. A certain Lieutenant Colonel C.Y. Jäger of the triple six fighter squadron.”

“I wondered where Chuck and his band of misfits went to.” Taking a draw off her cigarette Maiha smirked. “The Unlucky Devils. Some of the meanest and hottest pilots on the stick to ever overfly a battlefield.”

“You know these pilots Maiha?”

“Yeah I know them Ryuk. And they are all crazier than a shithouse rat set on fire. Damn fine bunch of pilots, but a rowdier bunch you’ll be hard to find.” Maiha just chuckled over the last part. Thinking about that group of pilots Maiha extinguished her cigarette. “Ryuk I need to send a message off the books.”

“Ready for dictation Empress. I’ll send it out on the next batch report cycle.”

The ancient AI understood what Maiha needed the moment she said off the books. The message that would be delivered could not be tracked back to her or him. Not even the persons the message was intended for would know who sent it. After five minutes Ryuk compiled the message into a code that only the receiving end would know the answer. Maiha had called in the Right Hand of the Empress.

Terresa Cole’s private quarters, WSRDC, New Texas.

I cannot believe the hangover I have this morning. I reach for the automatic coffee pot and the sweet nectar of the gods it holds. As I make my first cup of the morning I try to recount what I did last night. “Shit what a headache. I only had four beers and two shots last night. When did I become such a light weight?”

‘Terresa, I hate to tell you this. No, I don’t, because you deserve this hangover. You became such a light weight when you underwent the Secondary-Configuration. You’re not the 180lbs, 6ft, strapping young man you were a month ago.’ I really want to pound Lilly just then. The only problem was she was right. This was my fault. I have no one else to blame.

‘Lilly, I don’t remember a whole lot from last night. Did I do anything to embarrass myself? You know something I might have to apologize for?’

‘You just kissed Chief Daily goodnight on the cheek, as you were escorted out of the club by Prince James and your older brother Sylvester. Oh, and you tried to drag the Prince into your room and bed for sex.’

My eyes bulged out of my head hearing this last part and spit coffee across the room at the last comment. I get ready to deny everything Lilly just said until I hear the infernal AI giggling. ‘Damn it Lilly I don’t need this shit!’

‘Yes, you do, Terresa. Besides it’s fun to twist your tit once in a while.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ I stager into the bathroom and strip down. After taking care of bodily needs and a hot shower I head back out to get dressed for the day. I double check my duty schedule and frown. I notice that I got the Charge of Quarters today. “Oh great, just great. Thirty hours of bullshit. Why couldn’t I have a training flight schedule for today. At least then, I would be able to take out my anger on a few ground targets. Oh well nothing for it I guess.”

I also notice that I couldn’t wear my flight suit. The duty uniform for CQ at this base was Class Bs, dress blacks. For the first time I would have to wear the skirt that went with my new dress uniform. In truth it would be the first time since my transformation that I would have to dress as my new sex for real. With some trepidation I slowly dressed for duty. Once dressed I head out for the chow hall to get something to eat and more coffee.

As I cross the officer’s area into the common quad I notice for the first time the feel of air rushing across my nylon encased legs. I have to stop and catch my breath the first time this happens. This simple act has forced me to accept the fact that I am no longer male. “Hell, as far as the rest of the human race is concerned I’m no longer even fracking human. Let alone male.”

‘Terresa calm down. How many times do we have to have this discussion? You’re still very much a human. You’re just a female now. You have to stop fighting with yourself over this fact. Once you do that you can move forward.’

‘Lilly, I know this already! And I have accepted the fact that I’m a woman now. I just a little concerned right now. I don’t remember too much from last night. I’m afraid of what someone might say or have reported about my conduct. If I did something stupid it could get me grounded. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Terresa I do. As for my comments earlier, you did nothing out of the ordinary. You were a well behaved if more than slightly drunken young officer.’

‘Thank you, Lilly. That puts my mind at ease. Now let’s go get something to eat and more coffee. Maybe a cigarette or two while we’re at it.’ I continued across the quad to the chow hall. As I entered the hall I found a line to sign in and took my place at the end behind a private from one of the support units. The young man turned and looked at me then my rank.

“Step aside, Officer in the line.” He called out then moved to stand next the wall. “Good morning ma’am, after you.”

“Thank you Private.” As I walked pass him and the others to the Headcount I could tell that to these men and women I was nothing more than a pretty female officer. For some reason this made me feel better about myself and my situation. “Have a good day yourself. At ease everyone.”

At the Headcount Desk I signed in and paid my surcharge. The Corporal on duty smiled said ‘good morning, ma’am’ and called down further down the line. “Duty Officer in the line. Make a hole.”

I gave the young woman a smile as I headed towards the actual serving line. Once I had secured my tray I made my way down the line. I was surprised by the selection offered by the cooks. Three egg omelets, eggs over-easy, fried eggs, eggs cooked in every manner possible, fresh bacon, ham steaks, country fried chicken, biscuits and sausage gravy, and the fresh fruit selection was just as amazing. After getting two eggs over-easy, three sausage links, fried apples, and toast, I headed for the drink section. There I was able to fill up on a large glass of orange juice and large coffee. It didn’t take me long to find a table once I had my meal.

When I first sat down to eat I was alone, which was fine by me. That didn’t remain the situation for long. I looked up as a shadow fell across the table to see Captain Heartlow, my immediate superior. “May I join you Lieutenant Cole?”

“Please feel free sir.” I knew that the request was more of a suggestion. I watched as he set his tray down then took the seat across from me. I could tell that something was on the man’s mind by the way he moved and the tone in his voice. “So what can I do for you sir? I know that you rarely eat with the junior pilots?”

“I like that Cole, straight to the point.” He took a drink of his coffee. After setting the cup down he gave a hard look. “I want to know what you were doing palling it up with the Commanding Officer for the Security Force, Major Sylvester Cole. I know for a fact that he has only one sister, and Sylvia is a good friend of mine. Are you his wife?”

I almost spit coffee on the man at hearing this. Thankfully, I’d just swallowed and was able to giggle instead. At the look of displeasure on my CO’s face I knew that I had to explain fast. “Sorry, sir. But your information on the Cole family is severely out of date. I happen to be the Cole twins’ younger sibling. Both Sylvester and Sylvia are my family. I just happened to be the only Claymore in the batch.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant I know for a fact that Sylvester and Sylvia Cole only have a younger brother. A fine young pilot that just last month graduated flight school. Care to try that again?” I sighed as I could tell that Heartlow wasn’t going to accept the truth. He was sure that is was Sylvester’s wife.

“I was their baby brother until my Emergence sir. I went in the tank as Jason Cole and came out Terresa Cole. Before you ask I was finally granted my Second-Gen upgrade shortly after graduation and underwent it before leaving the Academy.” That was the cover story my family General Davenport, and the Prince had come up with.

As I took a bite of my eggs I waited and watched Heartlow. “I see. Thank you, Lieutenant. You have put my mind at ease. You understand the problems that arise when spouses are stationed together.”

That’s when it hit me. The man wasn’t worried about inappropriate behavior between officers, but if I was married to Sylvester. “Well you can put that worry out of your mind sir. I do love my brother and sister, but not in that way. Anything else?”

“No Lieutenant, that was all. When I heard that you were drinking with the Commander for the Security Detachment last night I became concerned that is all.”

I had to give it the man. He was slick. I could tell that he wanted to get to know me better, but not in a way that I cared for. I decided to shut this line of questioning down before it got started. “I can understand your concern sir. You can rest assured that I have no interest in my fellow officers of either sex. I just want to do my duty and be left alone. I’m not looking for a life partner, sir.”

I watched as his face fell at the sound of this. I was right in my assumption about his attentions towards me. I smiled as he realized that he had no chance at getting in my panties anytime soon. “Then I hope you can continue with that wish Lieutenant.”

“I can assure you sir. I will.” I left the warning tone out of my voice, but I could tell that he got the message. His actions proved this.

Standing up he gathered up his tray, coffee mug, pushed in his chair. “Well, then, I hope you have a good day Lieutenant. Oh, by the way sorry for the short notice for CQ Duty. Hanse was supposed to have it, but he plowed in yesterday evening on runway two. The main struts on the nose gear snapped. You were right about the stress points. I just wish that you weren’t. Hanse is going to be laid up for a couple of weeks. I only have one question. How did you know the struts and breaks would fail once they overheated like that?”

I sighed before looked up answering him. “I ran ten simulations along those very lines sir. I knew that sooner or later a dead stick landing would be tested. I didn’t want to be the one to crash nose first into the runway. I still haven’t figured out how to keep that from happening. It has to be something in either the materials or design, sir.”

Heartlow just chuckled. “You know that you don’t get paid to solve the problems we find Lieutenant. That’s what the Brainiac’s are for.”

“That maybe true sir, but it’s my ass on the line when they screw the pooch.” Then I smiled at the man. “And you have to admit that it is a cute ass, sir.”

Heartlow busted out laughing as he knew he had been busted but that I wasn’t going to hold it against him. Holding his tray in one hand Heartlow made a hashmark in the air. “Point to you Lieutenant Cole. Try to enjoy your duty.”

With that he walked off leaving me to finish my breakfast in peace and quiet. After I finished my breakfast I bused my tray and headed for the Charge of Quarters desk. As I stepped outside I lit a cigarette and smoked on my way to duty. I knew that the next thirty-hours was going to be a waste of time. With this mind I decided to relieve the current officer on duty before running back to grab my tablet. I figured I could make a few design changes to my pet project while just sitting around all day at the CQ desk. It didn’t take long to take over for the outgoing duty officer.

After making sure that my Runner had his orders and signing for the Quarters I ran up to my room. There I grabbed my tablet and a notebook to write out my thoughts. After returning to the CQ Desk I sat down and opened the file that Lilly had placed there on the XF-11. For the next four hours I worked on the design with Lilly. When time for lunch rolled around I sent my Runner to chow first. He returned a half hour later with his own tablet. I closed my tablet down and secured it in the desk bottom draw then went to chow.

When I returned I found my Runner missing and an Officer from the JAG Office waiting at the CQ Desk. “Can I help you Captain?”

“Your Runner has already taken care of me, Lieutenant.” I could tell the Judge Advocate General's officer really didn’t want to deal with me. I knew then and there something fishy was going on.

“Sorry sir. But I’m the Charge of Quarters for the day. So, you will answer my questions according to the UCMJ Article seventeen, subsection B, paragraph two. Who are you here to see, and do you have an order from the Base Commanding Provost Marshal?” I knew that the jackass didn’t have the last one, but the first one was more important in my mind.

The Captain sighed and handed over the two very much demanded pieces of paperwork. “I’m here to see Chief Warrant Officer three, Catherine Bellows of the Second of the Seventy-Second armored battalion, Lieutenant. As for the reasons those are on page two of the DD-one-eighteen.”

I flipped to the second page and read. When I saw what the Captain was there for I smiled. This time in relief. They weren’t here to cause problems for me or the personnel in the Quarters but to deliver some good news. “I’m sorry if I have caused you any problems Ma’am.”

This time it was the Captain who sighed then smiled. “No need to apologize Lieutenant. In fact, I wish more of your fellow officers took this duty as serious as you have. I’m just surprised that you knew which article to use. Are you due to report in to the JAG office soon?”

I really smiled at hearing this. “No ma’am. I’m a test pilot here. I just made sure that I knew what regs cover my Duties for the day this morning.”

The Captain chuckled at this admission on my part. “Well done Lieutenant.” He then looked up as Chief Warrant Officer Bellows came down the stairs. “Ah here is the lucky lady now. Chief Bellows it is my proud honor to notify you of your winning of the Galactic Lottery. As of this moment you are eighty-four-million gold credits richer. Congratulations Chief Bellows.”

The woman in question stopped dead in her tracks. The look of disbelief filled her face. “This is some kind of joke right ma’am?”

“I am afraid not Chief. You won the Lottery jackpot. I hope you got your retirement plans figured out.” The Captain was smiling at being able to give good news for a change to someone. The fact that it was the notification for winning the Golden Lottery was a bonus.

Like most soldiers I had dreamed of winning the big Lottery and made dream plans for that highly unlikely event. I watched as the Chief first read the announcement, then the orders that would discharge her from service. Sadly, there was a regulation that prohibited the winners of the Lottery, sudden inheritors of massive fortunes, from serving in the enlisted ranks of the military. I knew that there were some rich assholes among the Officer’s Crops, most of them High Families, or Royalty but not among the enlisted. I watched as the Chief’s shoulders slumped.

“Well shit! I got seven months to go until I reach my twenty. Can I at least finish off my tour?” She asked the Captain.

“You’ll have to take that up with your Commander, Chief. Though I doubt that will be a problem as you are so close to full retirement. Here’s my card if you have any questions or problems with your CO. Have a good day, Chief.” The JAG Captain smiled then left my building. I looked over at Chief Bellows, she turned and walked back upstairs to her room. I could tell that she really didn’t want to leave the service by the way she held her shoulders.

“Damn that has to suck.” I comment out load.

“What do you mean ma’am? I mean wouldn’t you want to win the big one like Chief Bellows, ma’am? To be able to just tell the military to kiss off like that?”

“Private Cutter, there are two types in the service. There are short timers like yourself who are in for the educational and other benefits for starters. By that I mean you’ve spent all morning working on your college courses at no cost to yourself. As far as the military is concerned you’re working towards promotion points. Then there’s the lifers like the Chief there. To them they play the lottery as a joke, never really expecting to win. To them the service is their home. To her leaving the service is going to be hard to take.” I told him honestly.

“What about you ma’am? You a life or short timer?” He asked me.

“That, Private Cutter, is a question yet to be determined.” I chuckled then pointed at his table. “Now what are you studying?”

The town of Nowhere, New Texas frontier. The Black Star Bar and Grill.

The heavy-lift cargo hauler rolled to a stop in front of the local bar. The two-man driver crew stepped down out of the cab. As the two men went inside a second two-man crew climbed into the cab and drove off. The bartender looked at the two that had come inside. “Have a seat, boys. Bobby and Jimmy will have your rig back in an hour. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

The older of the two men smiled. “Two Super Stars. Draft if you got it?”

The old bartender poured the requested beers from the tap. As the bartender was serving the drivers, a woman in her mid to late forties walked through the door. She looked over at the bartender. “Yeah, Mac was that the Richards delivery I just heard roll through town?”

“Yep, sure was Marry. These two boys are the drive-team for the rig.” Mac said as he set the beers in from of the crew.

“Thank god they got through. Old man Richards has been needing that equipment for a month now.” Marry said as she sat down next to the two men holding up her finger to the bartender signaling for a beer. “My usual Mac.”

“Coming right up Marry.” As Mac got the requested beer the older driver turned to Marry.

“Excuse me ma’am but what did you mean by that comment? Is there something you think we need to know about that road we came in on?” The driver asked.

Marry took a drink of her beer before answering. “Nine heavy loads have been highjacked between here and Port Huston. That is in the last seven weeks.”

“May I know how you come by that information ma’am?” The driver asked.

“Marry here is the local Sheriff, boys. If anyone knows about what is going down on that road its her.” Mac told the two men.

“Sorry if I said something wrong Sheriff. I just need to know if going back the way we came is safe. We’re supposed to be carrying a load of cattle for someone by the name of Bancroft. Know where we can find them?”

“Don’t worry about that boys. Bobby and Jim will pickup your next load for you. One of the nice things about having designated local drivers. You get a break while someone else gets you unloaded and reloaded for your return trip.” Marry told them with smile that never really reached her eyes.

The farm of Tom Richards

The heavy hauler pulled through the doors of the super barn and stopped. Even before the two young men could climb down from the cab a team of men were swarming the trailer. Even before their feet touch the ground tiedown chains were already disconnected. By the time they had turned to the owner of the farm heavy lift loaders were taking down the massive containers that were the transports load. The old man walked up to the young men.

“Did they have any idea of what they’re really hauling boys?”

“We doubled checked the rig uncle Tom. I doubt that they do. We didn’t have time to run the scanners over the containers though.” The younger of the two answered.

“Damn it Bobby. We got too much riding on these loads.” Tom Richards turned to the crew unloading the transport. “Double check the containers gents.”

That one command stopped all activity. Ten men ran and pulled out portable scanners. In five minutes work resumed as a tracking device was handed over to Tom. “We caught this in the anti-tank rifle’s container. It is definitely Empyreal. How do you want to take care of it?”

Tom just smirked as he took it from the man. Walking outside to his one of his ranch hands. “Joey, time to give the Empire a Mississippi Boat Ride. Use the Little Catfish River over on the back forty. That should take them about nine to ten hours before they figure out they lost the load.”

“Yes sir.” Was all the ranch hand said as he took off on his speeder. In thirty minutes the tracker would be slowly drifting down the Little Catfish River heading for the Gulf of Auston.

With the ranch hand taking care of the tracker Tim turned to the problem of the two drivers back at the Black Star. Pulling out his portable communicator Tom placed a call to the bar. He waited for Mac to answer. When after the third ring Mac answered Tom just spoke two words and the hung up. “Hot load.”

The Black Star Bar and Grill

Mac looked over at the ringing communicator for the bar and sighed. If Tom was calling this soon it could only mean one thing, trouble. “Black Star, Mac speaking.”

Hearing the code phrase for a tracked load Mac sighed and hung up the phone. “Marry that was the station calling. They need you back there now.”

“Thanks Tom.” Marry stood up and placed a tenner on the countertop. “That should cover my tab Mac. See you later.”

The two drivers never spotted the subtle cues between the old bartender and sheriff. The old bartender moved towards the end of the bar drawing the two men’s attention. While the sheriff pulled her sidearm and stepped up behind them. With two quick shots to the backs of their heads the men died. Mac stepped around the bar to let in six men through the backdoor. With an ease that came from practice the six men cleaned up the two dead bodies and blood faster than expected. The sheriff looked down at her watch and sighed.

“Damn they’re getting faster at that shit, Jerry. Have they been practicing?”

Jerry McGregor owner of the Black Star Bar and Grill shook his head no. “Nope. They haven’t done anything like that Samantha. The only practice they get is from when you put someone down like that.”

Sheriff Samantha Price looked over at Jerry. “I wish I didn’t have to Jerry. You know that I would love to just let those cowboys go rolling out of here.”

“I know Sam, I know. They’re just too much a security risk any more. The last two were outright Amazon spies. I doubt that those two were spies but they saw how we handle cargo that comes into town. That load of weapons is just too damned important to risk. You know that if I hadn’t done what I did Tom would have had his boys do it. The difference would be that Tom’s boys would stake the bodies out for the Empire or Amazons to find along the road. You know what that would mean for us. We’re not ready yet to take on those mercs. Especially those damned Quinsbee Jayhawkers.” Both looked down the road toward the next town that was the current head quarters for the mentioned mercenary unit.

Of all the mercenary units on New Texas the most hated and blood thirsty were the Quinsbee Jayhawkers. In the last six months they had burned out or evicted eighteen families from their farms. The last one came down to a standoff that last for ten days before the Jayhawkers use short range missiles to firebomb the ranch. The problem was bringing charges against the unit. The way the law was written so long as the Jayhawkers were working for the banks, Samantha and the other sheriffs couldn’t bring them up on criminal charges.

It was the actions of units like the Jayhawkers and a few others, that was the driving force behind the arming of civilians. If it had not been for those actions Samantha Price would never condone handing out military grade weapons to civilians. “Right now, Jerry, I’m just glad that we’re not dealing with a unit that has APS support. We may be arming, but Light Infantry weapons aren’t going to stop Armored Power Suits on a tear.”

“You know that, I know that, the only ones that don’t know that are those fools getting ready to go to war with the Amazon Military. This is going to be worse than the War of Northern Aggression in the eighteen-hundreds. Frack, Sam, we’re in the same damn situation. An agricultural based society taking on a manufacturing powerhouse. We have to be out of our damned minds.” Jerry spat out in anger.

Samantha just took a pinch of snuff from the tin in her hand. After working it between cheek and gum Sam spit the first traces of juice into the bar’s spittoon. “I just hope we don’t go down as hard as your ancestors did, Jerry.”

Jerry looked over at the sheriff for their small town and smiled. Most people would never know that hiding under the bright smile, and unassuming size was a retired combat veteran from the last Succession War. With a sweep of her hand Samantha moved the hair from over her ears to reveal her true race. Very few people in the town of Nowhere knew that Samantha was a Wood Elf. And even fewer still knew that she was a Second-Gen Death Dealer. Jerry McGregor was one of the very few true friends Samantha shared her past with.

“I hope like hell you’re right Samantha. But you and I both know that won’t be the case. The moment those jackasses push too hard old man Richards is going to fight back with everything he has. When the banks try to foreclose on just one ranch around here the shit is going to hit the fan.” Jerry sighed and looked around the town sadly. “Right here will be our Fort Summer, and the start of the next bloody Civil War of Northern Aggression.”

The Offices of Still Unlimited Shipping.

Lisa Stills sat back in her chair and stretched. “God what a day. I could really use a stiff drink about now. That and a good smoke.”

“Mommy, you promised me that you would give those up.” Lisa had to smile at her young son sitting just a few feet away. At ten years old the boy was the spitting image of his father. Even after ten years Lisa still found it hard to believe that she was now a mother. Retiring after twenty years of service to the Empress Maiha, Lady Lisa Stills took the buyout as a vet and invested it into a small shipping firm. That was twelve years ago. That firm now had twenty of the newest and fastest Clipper Class dropships and was a growing concern. It was a night of world wind sex with one of her Captains, Lisa showed up pregnant with her son.

That night was ten years ago, and the boy looked a lot like his father. of the many things she had done her life having her little boy was the best thing in her eyes. She may have raised the boy on her own, but that had been her choice. She wasn’t going to make the mistakes her family had. In fact, since she had entered the service of the Empress, Lisa Stills had had no contact with her family. In her eyes that was for the best. “I know I promised to quit Jimmy. And I have. That was just wishful thinking on my part. These quarterly reports are a royal pain in the ass.”

“Well you would know a royal pain if anyone did mommy.” Jimmy smirked up at his mother as he looked over at the pictures on the wall. The ones that were of Lisa and the current Royal Family. Lisa had to chuckle at her son’s play on words.

The sound of an incoming trans-system message brought them both up short. Lisa opened her communication station and found the message. It took her a few seconds to recognize the header codes. It had been over twelve years since anyone had sent her a message with that header coding. Her son Jimmy looked over her shoulder at the message. “Whose it from mom?”

Gone was the playful attitude of a ten-year-old boy. In it’s place was that of a young man ready to face the Fires of Hell with nothing more than a toy water pistol. A lot like some women that Lisa greatly admired. Who were more like sisters to Lisa than her own family. “An old friend Jimmy. Someone I greatly respect and admire.”

Jimmy Stills had always known his mother was once a member of the Royal Guards. In fact, at one time she had been one of the Captains for the Royal Guard and a close personal friend of Empress Maiha. He often dreamed of earning the right to wear the Red Triangle of the Hell Hounds, the Personal Body Guards of the Royal couple. He watched as his mother entered a series of numbers and letters before the message decoded itself on her screen. What he read there made him gasp in surprise.

Hearing her son’s sudden intake of breath Lisa had to hide her smile. With a cough Lisa turned to her son. “Feel like taking a little trip on the Cutty Sark Jimmy?”

“Where are we going mom?” The boy asked in hopes of already knowing the answer to that question.

“To Hades.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 9
Flight Line, WSRDC, New Texas

I smile as I walk up to the Strike Eagle I’ll be flying today. After two weeks of nothing but similar flights and desk duty I’m finally getting some flight time. I know that similar time and desk duty are all part of being in the military. But they cannot replace the feeling of pushing a fighter through the air. I salute the private on security duty as I approach the aerospace fighter.

“Morning Private. Nice day for a flight.”

He smiles and returns my salute. “Morning ma’am. I don’t know about it being a nice day for flying or not, but it is a beautiful day.”

“Trust me Private. It is a nice day for flying. I just hope that I don’t crash.” I know it sounded like I was joking. I wasn’t though. I had been given the lovely task of performing a ‘dead stick’ landing today. The same type of landing that had put another pilot in the hospital for five weeks. The only difference is I will be doing it on purpose this time. Something I wasn’t looking forward to doing.

“I’m sure you won’t ma’am. The Strike Eagle is one of the best birds ever built.” As much as I wanted to contradict the Private I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. The young man was proud of the new aerospace fighter, and he had a right to be. It was a beautiful aircraft. But like all aircraft it has its faults. I was there to find them by pushing the test birds to their limits.

I just smile and head for the cockpit ladder. I let my helmet hang loosely in my left hand as I do my walk around of the Strike Eagle. Unlike most pilots, I don’t trust the onboard AI to do the preflight checks. I made that mistake once in my young life and I ended up as a female. I’ll never again trust a flaky AI to do what I should have done in the first place.

‘Hey, I resent that remark there sister!’ I giggle at Lilly’s outrage over being called flaky. ‘You know something, I’m not too thrilled at being stuck with a suicide jockey like you either you know.’

I chuckled to myself over Lilly’s complaints as I finish my walkaround. When I get to a safety pin I pull each one. The big red ‘remove before flight’ flags let me know which ones have to go. When I get to the ones that mark the main weapons I pull them as well. I know that I’m supposed to leave them but, ever since the battle just inside the jump point, I won’t fly disarmed. Me and the research team have had more than one fight over this precaution. Thankfully my CO sided with me on the matter. I may not have missiles on the pods, but I do have the twin PPCs, dual Gatlin lasers, and one-oh-five autocannon. More than enough to take on an unsuspecting aerial enemy. I just hope that I don’t have to use those powerful weapons. The reports of aerial attacks on the outer settlements has been increasing.

With all twenty flags in my hands I climb into the cockpit to finish my preflight checks. ‘Lilly, have there been any new reports of aerial attacks?’

‘None since yesterday afternoon, Terresa. In a way this might be a good thing.’

I thought about what Lilly just told me and shook my head no. ‘Lilly this is one time where no news is bad news. If we can’t figure out where these attacks are coming from we’re in for a world of trouble. The last report came in from Billings Crossroads. That is less that four hours by air from here.’

‘Okay, I can see your point, but we’re still talking about hours of hard flying from there to here. More than enough time for a warning.’

‘Lilly, the attack before that was on Kingsport. The attacks before that was on Pecos and Cut an Shoot on the same day. The flight time between those two cities is five hours. Whoever is carrying out these attacks is not based anywhere planet side. They have to be using a carrier class dropship. That is the only answer that fits all the facts. And those reports of the all black KV-81 means it is the Amazons performing these attacks. And right now, we don’t have a fighter that can go up against her and win.’ I continue to go over the preflight as I explain my fears.

Before Lilly could reply Chief Daily stuck his head over the edge of the cockpit. “Okay, Lieutenant, she’s already to fly. You got a full load on the one-oh-five. Sixty rounds of armor piercing fin stabilized sabots. The PPCs and Gatlin are fully charged with brand new lenses. I replaced the heat sinks for all five weapons last night. I know that this bird is only half armed but with what you’re scheduled to do today I didn’t think having missiles on board would be such a good idea.”

I chuckled at this last comment. “No, I doubt it would be a good idea to have a few dozen explosives hanging off the wings during a crash. By the way how did you get the autocannon rounds approved?”

“That was easy, ma’am. I explained to the good doctors that the best way to test the strength of the nose struts was to load up the autocannon with training rounds. The dumbasses jumped all over the idea. I figured they didn’t need to know that training rounds pack the same punch as live rounds.” The crooked smile Chief Daily gave me let me know that my autocannon was loaded with real rounds.

“Thanks for covering my ass there Chief. I don’t know why but I just got this sickening feeling we’re going to get hit in the next few days.” I said as I handed him the preflight warning flags. I reached up and unzipped my flight suit as I deployed my bio-armor. I handed him my flight suit and began to strap into the command chair. Chief Daily reached up and connected the input to my helmet before handing it to me. Once I had settled my helmet Daily reached up one more time behind my head and pulled the last preflight safety pin arming the ejection seat.

With tap on my helmet Chief Daily gave me a thumbs-up. “All set to fly Lieutenant. Try to bring this one back in one piece?”

“Oh, stuff it Chief. It’s not my fault they pay me to break the damned things.” The big man chuckled as he climbed down the cockpit ladder.

Once I was alone I started going through the startup sequence for the Strike Eagle. The feel of the twin engines coming to life sent a rush of adrenaline through me. I couldn’t get this feeling in a simulator. As the lights of the instrument panel lit up I could feel the power aerospace fighter truly come to life. I looked over at Chief Daily as he gave the signal to pullout and follow the ground escort truck.

“Tower, this is flight two-two-zero, requesting clearance to taxi. Over” I called out over the radio.

“Flight two-two-zero, this is tower control, you’re cleared for to taxi to runway one-alpha and hold at hammerhead. Over”

“Copy tower, taxi to runway one-alpha and hold on hammerhead. Over” I knew that the tower control officer was going by the book. I so wanted to be in the air just then, but this was a test flight and the brass was watching. As I pulled to a stop on the hammerhead I looked down at the threat radar out of habit.

“Oh Shit! What the hell is coming in off the two o’clock, Tower? Over”

“Scorpion get that bird in the air now. Cleared for full tactical operations. Over”

I didn’t need to be told a second time and jammed the throttles to the stops. ‘Lilly get me a firing solution on those incoming birds. Now.’

‘That’s going to be a problem Terresa. Those aren’t fighters. I’m still working on identifying them. Just get us in the air for now. We’ll deal with what they are once we’re airborne. I’ll start pairing up the weapons and cycling power to them.’

“Damn. Just what we need. Unknowns coming in fast and hot. How many are we looking at here Lilly?” I asked out load.

For the first time I heard Lilly voice over the speakers of the cockpit. “Terresa, we’re looking at eight and climbing. I’ve also picked up another set of signals coming in from the eight and six o’clock positions. They’re still too far out to identify number or make but they’re definitely fast movers coming in on the deck.”

I reach the end of the runway and pull up hard on the stick. I climb as fast as I can for altitude. I know I need to get above the incoming attackers if I’m going to make a difference. The higher I climb the more my threat radar picks up on the incoming enemy. It doesn’t take long before Lilly has numbers and makes for me. Even as she puts the information on the HUD I know I won’t like what I see.

Coming in from the two o’clock position I counted nine fast ground attack bombers. Perfect for blasting the base to shreds. At the six and eight positions were light and medium escort fighters. I keyed the mike. “Tower control, we got two more flights inbound from the six and eight. Make them a mix of light and medium fighters. How copy? Over”

“Good copy Scorpion. Your priority is the flight of bombers inbound from the two o’clock. Shaggy and Scooby will take care of the others. Over”

I checked my radar and spotted the two aerial-patrol fighters coming in fast on the six of the two groups of fighters. This would give me time to handle the ground attack craft if I could get in among them fast enough. With this in mind I pushed the stick hard over to the left and stomped on the left rudder pedal. I had to use a totally different skill of flying now that I was in atmosphere. I couldn’t pull the radical moves that I did in space. Here I had to consider the friction of air currents over my control surfaces and wings. Then there were the stresses placed on my craft by the engines as they operate at full throttle.

As I rolled over into the far portside of the attacking formation I was brought up short. They weren’t aerospace fighters or ground attack craft. Keying my mike, I scream out the warning but I know I’ll be to late. “Vampire! Vampire! Vampire! Tower, I repeat! Vampire! Vampire! Vampire!”

There before me were nine heavy missiles on inbound courses for the base. I might get one or two of them but not all. I pushed my Strike Eagle to its limits. I knew that I had to get down on the cruise missiles before they cleared the low mountain range that surrounded the base. If I could do that I might be able to cutdown on the number of casualties. I swung in on their six. I sighted in on my first target and opened up with the PPCs. Even at this range I missed. I needed to get closer but know that it was a losing battle.

“Vampire! Vampire! Vampire! Tower, nine heavy cruise missiles inbound from the six o’clock. I repeat, nine heavy cruise missiles inbound from the six o’clock position!” I felt my heart drop at the report from Shaggy. If he had nine missiles where he was at that was a total of eighteen so far.

“Lilly, what are the chances of us stopping any of these missiles?” I knew the answer before she even gave it.

“Try Terresa, we have to try.” I lined up one more time and fired the Gatlin lasers. This time I destroyed the missile in my crosshairs. I shifted to the next one and again using the Gatlin lasers I downed one more missile. Then I watched in horror as the remaining seven missiles suddenly climbed. I knew that they were going into their termination dives. I was out of time.

As I flew over the base I watched as seven mushroom clouds rose from the impacts of the heavy missiles. I pulled up hard to circle the base and assess damage done by the attack. I started counting impacts and my heart fell even further. Then Lilly gave me the total of missile strikes. Twenty-three heavy cruise missiles hit the WSRDC. As I circled I scanned the skies looking for the follow up attack. “Lilly try and raise the Tower.”

“Terresa the ATC Tower took a direct hit from one of those missiles. It’s going to be awhile before anyone from the ground can contact us. We’re on our own up here.”

“Contact Shaggy and Scooby. Maybe they know what happened here.” I ordered her. It didn’t take her long and I was talking to the air patrol. “Scorpion here Shaggy. Did you see who lunched those missiles? Over”

“Shaggy here Scorpion. That’s a big fat negative. We were on the downside of our sweep when we picked them up on our radars. Any ideas on your end? Over”

I didn’t recognize the pilots voice at first. When I did I wanted to laugh at how lucky I could get. It was my CO Captain Heartlow. “Negative Shaggy. I was sitting on the hammerhead waiting for clearance when the warning went out. Over”

“Boss, I say we split up and each take one attack flight path and backtrack those missiles to whoever fired them. Over” the voice of Scooby was new to me.

“Negative Scooby. The base still needs top cover. Over” Shaggy snapped out.

“Shaggy I’m supposed to be doing dead sticks today. I can run the recon on those flight paths. Over” I figured that I could use the fact that I was supposed to be doing test flights today to carry out the recon.

I got my wish. “The duty is yours Scorpion. Keep an eye on your six. Whoever sent those heavy cruse missiles has to have top cover of their own. Over”

“Copy that Shaggy. Rolling out now. Out” I rolled right and head back along the flight path of the nine missiles that I had attacked. I climbed to twenty-thousand-feet and kicked in the afterburners. It wasn’t long before Lilly spotted our quarry. I smiled as I put the Strike Eagle into a nose dive. Switching over to the ground attack targeting system I smile as the three MLRS carriers appeared on my HUD. “Lilly keep an eye out for unwelcome company.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice Terresa. Just don’t miss. Blow those rat frackers to hell and back before they can fire on our base again.”

“I won’t miss Lilly. Trust me. I want payback as much as you do.” I announced my arrival with a three-round burst from my one-oh-five autocannon. I smile as the first MLRS explodes under this onslaught. The second MLRS gets my PPCs, and the third my Gatlin lasers. I swing wide roll over and loop back for a second strafing run. As I pull up out of the last attack I flip the switch and change back over to air-to-air radar. I wait as it sweeps through a full cycle and nothing shows. “Okay Lilly plot us course that would give us the best possible intercept for those other MLRS Batteries. I want them all girl.”

A few second later Lilly displayed what I need on the HUD. “Terresa, we need to get a move on if we’re going to catch those other two units.”

“I gotcha Lilly. Push the burners and don’t spare the horses.” I know that it would cause me a shit load of grief, but I didn’t care just then. I wanted payback and I was going to get it. I pull back on the stick and climb as I point the nose of my Strike Eagle on the new heading. I had just cleared the gathering clouds when a pair of H6-8Hs Hammerheads dropped out of nowhere.

“Terresa! Three o’clock and coming fast!” Lilly called out.

“I got ‘em sis.” I gritted my teeth and snapped an Ingram spiral. My sudden maneuver catches the two Hammerheads off guard. I know they weren’t expecting me to climb between them while attacking instead of turning and running. Once I pass them I loop hard over. I can hear the airframe groaning under the stress. I know I’m pushing the envelope, but I don’t care. I’m outnumbered and outgunned. Those two Hammerheads will blow this bird apart if I don’t take them down first. I have to score the first hits or I’m dead. This thought runs nonstop through my mind.

With the thought of dying before my time firmly in my mind I lock onto the wingman for the lead Hammerhead and fire everything at once. My twin PPCs slam home just ahead of the intakes for his engines and strip away the cowlings on the portside. I watch as the three-round burst from the autocannon punch through the armor over the portside engine tearing it apart. My Gatlin laser does the most damage by burning away the ailerons on both wings. I watch as the pilot rolls his Hammerhead into a flat plain and ejects. With that one dead I roll away right then pull back hard on the stick climbing to get a new attack angle on the second Hammerhead.

The lead Hammerhead did exactly what I had guessed he would do. The pilot was trying to get into my high six for the perfect kill shoot. Down and through the cockpit. Something that I would only try if I had the element of total surprise. I push forward on the stick and dive once more. Only this time I do so with my nose pointed at the Hammerhead’s belly. I smile as the Hammerhead’s pilot reacts just as I hoped he would by looping over and away. “Perfect. You’re a dead man.”

With a simple twist of the stick and a slight kick to the left rudder pedal I was in position for the kill he wanted. From behind, down and through the canopy. I cut lose with a three-round burst from the autocannon. I watch as all three, depleted uranium long rod penetrator rounds slam home. I double check my ammo count on the autocannon. “Damn. I need to back off on the big gun. Forty-eighty rounds left out of sixty. That damn thing eats ammunition like I eat chocolate doughnuts.”

“I doubt that! I don’t know of anything that can put away doughnuts like you can Terresa.” Lilly popped off with.

“Hush you! Give me the course heading for those missile batteries.”

That’s when Lilly gave me the news. “Sorry Terresa, but we have been ordered back to base. Before you go chew me out those orders come straight from the Crown Price not the Base Commander.”

I chew over what Lilly just told me. “What’s going on Lilly?”

“Terresa if the reports are accurate twelve Empyreal Bases have been attacked today. All in the same manner. Multiple heavy medium-long range cruise missiles from three different attack vectors at the same time. We’re the only ones to actual get some pay back on the attackers.”

As much as I wanted to argue the point I knew it was worthless to try. “Set course for the base Lilly. Full tactical approach. I do not want to get jumped again.”

“Got it Terresa. I was going to do that anyway. I still haven’t figured out how those two Hammerheads got the drop on us.”

“That’s simple Lilly. The Hammerhead is a deep strike stealth fighter. They’re normally used as spotters for artillery units. They can get in close before a radar will even pick them up thanks to that stealth ability of theirs. We just got lucky this time. They were in way too much of a hurry to get the drop on us. If those pilots had waited until we were on course for those other MRLS units we would be the ones looking for a ride home.” I could see the fight going totally different with the victory going to the enemy pilots.

As I cleared the mountain ridge line I got my first unobstructed view of the base. “FRACK! What the hell did those assholes use?”

“I’ve run a FSM scan of the base Terresa. I believe that the enemy used thermobaric warheads in their missiles. The number of casualties is still being counted.”

“Damn it! I want those people Lilly.” I snarled out. “I want them all. Can we at least land safely?”

“Runway two is clear and in full operation Terresa.” I smiled as I heard this and lined up for landing. As the gear came down I was surprised to see green lights on all control surfaces, and three greens on my landing gear. “We’re clear to land Terresa. May I suggest that we don’t crash?”

“Oh, stuff it Lilly. I haven’t crashed one of these babies yet. I’ve come close, but I have always got them down safely.” I snapped as swung in line with the runway. “Keep you head on a swivel until we get this beast parked Lilly. I have a feeling that we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Understood, Terresa. Sorry for the flippancy.”

“Don’t worry about Lilly. I just have this feeling that those MLRS Units were waiting for the right time to strike. Like they knew exactly when to hit us to cause the most damage and casualties.” I knew I was letting my natural paranoia get the better of me. Yet I just couldn’t shake the feeling.

“You may be right Terresa. That strike couldn’t have come at a better time. More than half the base’s civilian personnel were out in the open on their way to the noontime meal. Those warheads did far more damage to buildings than personnel.”

As I touched down at the end of the runway, a thought occurred to me. “Lilly, exactly which buildings were targeted?”

It took her a few minutes before she could answer me. When she did I wanted to spit nails. “They had targeted the main R-n-D builds one through three, the food and water warehouses, and two of the aircraft hangers, Terresa. One of those hangers was the one for this Strike Eagle.”

“Ah shit! Did our people make it out safely?” I was really concerned for the safety of Chief Daily and his crew.

“Unknown at this time Terresa. The emergency service crews are still taking their initial headcounts and damage assessments. Sorry I can’t give you more information.”

“No need to apologize Lilly. I got an idea that Command is doing all it can right now to just get a handle on this situation. Let’s finish putting this beast to bed. Then go find someone who can fill us in on the full situation.” I had no sooner reached the end of the runway and the hammerhead than a guide truck pulled up. I pulled in behind them and they led me to one of the three undamaged hangers.

Chief Daily and his groundcrew were there waiting on me. I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of those seven individuals. “Thank the goddess they’re all alright. Lilly start shutting the systems.”

“Already taking care of that Terresa. I’ve turned the shutdown process over to the onboard AI. It’s smart enough to handle that much.” I laughed at the smugness in Lilly’s voice. The tactical AI for the Strike Eagle was nowhere near as intelligent as Lilly and she loves to remind me of this fact whenever she can.

The cockpit canopy slid back allowing me the needed room to unstrap and Chief Daily access to give me a hand exiting the cockpit. He quickly removed my helmet while I was dealing with the ejection seat straps. In few seconds I was released from the seat and cockpit. Chief Daily gave me a hand exiting the cockpit and down the crew ladder. As I passed one of my groundcrew the young man gave me a salute. “Good to have you back in one-piece ma’am.”

“It’s good to be back in one-piece Corporal. Chief Daily, can you tell me where the Command Post is set up?” I called up to Chief Daily.

“Head for the ATC Tower base ma’am.” Chief Daily never took his eye off of what he was doing in the cockpit. “And ma’am it’s fracking bad out there. Watch your step, and under no circumstances are you to disengage your bio-armor. Orders from your brother and sister. Do me and my crew a favor. Follow their orders.”

As much as I wanted to tell Chief Daily that I was a grown damn woman, I listened. There was something in his voice that let me know the base wasn’t totally safe right now. We may have gutted the spy ring, but that didn’t mean that we got them all. I walked over to where the small arms locker was for this hanger. After entering my access code, I waited for it to open. When it didn’t I called over to one of the groundcrew. “Corporal Hines, do you have the access code to this locker?”

“Just a moment ma’am.” I waited for Hines to finish what he was doing. When he tried his access code the locker remained locked. “What the frack? Just a moment ma’am. Let me take a look at something.”

He walked over to the hanger office leaving me standing there. I tried my code again and again got nothing. When Hines returned he carried a portable plasma cutting torch. “I contacted the Command Post, ma’am. Orders are to open all arms lockers no matter what we have to do. That includes cutting them open.”

“Damn what the hell happened?” I asked Hines.

“One of those missiles strikes was on the primary computer control center. That one strike scrambled the lock codes for every arms lock on the post.” Hines was busy cutting the locking pins on the arms locker as he explained what happened. As the door finally fell away I exhaled the breath I had been holding. I need the weapons in that locker more now than ever before. “Once you’re armed ma’am, you really need to head for the CP. The Base CO said something about needing a report on the MLRS unit that attacked us.”

I just grabbed the first pistol that fit my hand, a holster, and four of the prefilled magazines for it. I double checked and grabbed a fifth magazine then loaded the pistol. The EFA-45 is the standard pistol of the Military Police. It is a compact semiautomatic pistol that fires a 9mm round. Each magazine holds only 12 of the new high-impact full metal-jacketed rounds. I really didn’t care just then as I wanted something on my hip. I also grabbed one of the combat vests hanging inside the locker. I want this for the extra ammunition pouches, and grenade loops. After grabbing another 8 mags for the EFA-45 and four grenades I looked for a combat knife. The only ones that I find are R-8 trench knives.

Once I was armed I turned to Chief Daily. “Yeah Chief, I’m out of here. Make sure to load up the wing pods this time. Mavs, Snakes, and Hawks, full mixed loadout. The same for the cannon.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant, but you won’t be flying this bird again. We got more pilots than fighters. That’s why the CO wants to see you. I have a feeling they’re shipping you Marks and Little over to Billings.” Chief Daily called back.

I had an idea. “Chief did you ever get around to looking at that design I sent you? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Chief Daily started chuckling. “If the manufacturing center didn’t get hit then that beautiful aircraft should be sitting there waiting on you. I had to make a few changes in the weapons load out to make it work though. I had to move lasers into the wing sections between the centerline pod and the engine booms. What that gives you is twenty Pulse Plasma Lasers. Ten in the nose and five in each winglet. I was able to up the PPCs to eight with four in the nose and two in each winglet. Try as I might I couldn’t squeeze in one of those Gatlin’s like you wanted. I was able to get you a centerline one-twenty smoothbore autocannon.”

“Damn, Chief you really went all out. How does it handle in the simulator?”

“I’m no pilot Lieutenant, but from what the Captain and Lieutenant Marks said it is a real apex predator in the skies. One of them called it the blade of death while the other said something about Great White sharks hunting baby seals.” I knew who had made which comments by the content. Marks was the only man on the base from Earth Prime originally. Someplace called Southern California where sea lions and seals are known to frequent for breeding.

“Well, Marks would know about those monsters of the deep better than anyone else on base. Have you gotten a look at her yet?” I asked Daily.

“Outside of the flight sims no. But if she is anything like the simulator she’ll take everything you got and then some Lieutenant. That bird is mean, nasty, and above all, deadly now that she’s armed. Sadly, you’ll have to wait to get a look at her. The Base CO needs that report.” Chief Daily pointed in the direction of the temporary Command Post. “Been nice knowing you ma’am. I would have loved to see what the Great White would have done in your hands.”

I got the hidden meaning behind the Chief’s parting words to me. If we got attacked in the next day I was to head for the manufacturing center. It was at the far end of runway three, with a taxi way that led directly from the fabrication floor. I walked outside and looked around at the damage done by the missile attacks. Turning my HUD up to full power I zeroed in on where the ATC Tower should have been. All that was left was a smashed pile of ruble. Lilly painted a map of what should be where across my HUD as I turned in place. The more I saw of the destruction the madder I became over the attack. On the good side, things like the fuel depot, ammo dump, and base armory were untouched. As my scans fell on the manufacturing center I found my first real piece of good news. It was intact and functioning.

The down side of my scans was the areas that did get hit were just as important. Over half the barracks were destroyed, along with two of the four chow halls. The base hospital had sustained damage from a near miss. Not bad enough to put it out of commission but it would be operating below full capacity. Both the ATC Tower and the ATC Center had been damaged beyond use for now. The southern barricade had been turned into a crater strewn field. The biggest blow to our defensive force was the direct strike to the APS hanger. I couldn’t tell if any of those massive war machines had been damaged but it was a good bet they had been. There was also the normal truck and small vehicle damage.

“Damn. Just what the hell were those local yocals trying to do? Piss off the Empire?” I said into the empty air as I walked towards the CP.

“That is exactly what they were trying to do ma’am.” I wasn’t expecting an answer to my question but smiled at the Sergeant who did. “They pull us in and this fight becomes a three-way slugfest. Once that happens the Amazons have to pull back. In short ma’am. This whole attack was calculated to be damaging but still keeping the total number of casualties down to a minimum, ma’am.”

I stopped and looked over at the Sergeant. I noticed he was a Sergeant First Class and wore the black beret of the Special Operation teams. He would most likely know Sylvester. “Tell me something Sergeant, did my brother the Major send you to find me? And how can you tell that it was calculated to keep down the number of casualties? Frack. They were using thermobaric warheads.”

“Yes ma’am. Him and the Base Commander. As for how I spotted the type of attack it was easy. They waited until the civilians were headed for chow and clear of the primary buildings. Next, they only targeted military buildings that would be empty at this time of the day. And lastly they only went after targets that would force us to either spend a massive amount of resources to repair or abandon the base.” The Sergeant pointed at the ATC Tower as an example of the last.

“Tell me something Sergeant, what would the locals gain from targeting the APS and aerospace fighter hangers?” I asked him as I looked over in their direction.

“Nothing really except for taking the fighters out of the fight. The APS hanger is super hardened against this type of attack. Sure, they could damage the Suit, but within the next hour those babies will be repaired and ready to fight. The aerospace fighters are another story. Damage them, and you remove the one thing we have that equalizes the fight. Either way this attack was most likely to force us to abandon the base. As it stands now, it’ll be a son-of-bitch to defend.”

The minute the Sergeant said force us to abandon the base I knew what the locals really wanted. It was the manufacturing center. It could produce aerospace fighters and assault shuttles in mere hours from known designs. When you add in the fuel depot, ammo dump, and untouched runways with a mobile ATC Unit you get a working airbase in a matter of hours. I took off at a dead run for the CP.

The Sergeant had to really push himself to catch up with me. “What the matter ma’am? Where’s the fire? We got time.”

“No, we don’t Sergeant. We’re going to get hit again, and soon. Trust me on this.”

I didn’t bother explain anything else as we reach the Command Post. The guard asked for our id’s before letting us pass. “The BCO and Major Cole are waiting for you ma’am. I suggest that you hurry.”

I just gave the guard a harsh glare and walked over to the tent that had been setup to act as the Command Post. As I stepped inside I heard the Sergeant First Class begin to chew out the guard. I knew I could leave that matter in the hands of the Sergeant. Right now, I had more pressing matters to face.

I stepped up to Lieutenant Colonel Nakatoma and saluted. “Flight Lieutenant First Class Terresa Cole reporting sir.”

“At ease Lieutenant.” I dropped into Parade Rest position. “Okay Lieutenant, give us what you know.”

“Yes sir. Shortly before takeoff Tower Control report an inbound flight of unknowns coming in from the two o’clock position. I took off at full throttle and climbed to an altitude of three hundred feet then nosed over into attack. It was at that time that I got good returns on my radar and lidar targeting systems. I called out a warning for the cruise missiles then dropped down in an attempt to shoot down the inbounds. I managed to down two, sir. Forced to circle the base with the CAP aircraft the patrol leader authorized me to backtrack the missile trajectories. At thirty miles out, I spotted a Multiple Rocket Launching System battery. Once identified I went into ground attack mode. After making two passes and destroying the battery I climbed for altitude. I was plotting my next intercept course for my next target when I was jumped by a pair of H6-8Hs Hammerheads. After downing both, I received orders to return to base.”

Sylvester looked me in the face. “As you’re our only source for an aerial tactical review right now Lieutenant what is your assessment?”

“In a word Major Cole. Fracked. Unfortunately, we cannot abandon this base.” I told them all honestly. At the blank looks on Sylvester and the Prince’s face I sighed. “Sirs, if we abandon this base we give the enemy a usable airstrip. One that has a fully FUNCTIONING manufacturing center. A manufacturing center that can produce fighters, bombers, and assault shuttles in a matter of hours off any known design. When we add in the undamaged fuel depot, and ammo dump. Let’s just say it’s a nightmare waiting to happen sirs.”

As I laid everything out for them Prince James and Sylvester turned bright red in anger. They had not seen the big picture this time. James turned to one of the other Majors in the CP. “Bitters, get General Horn on the line fast.”

“On it sir. It’ll take a few seconds, because of the damage to the coms array.” The Major answered tiredly. I could tell that he was already stressing out. “I’m having to bounce the signal off two satellites to reach Division Command sir.”

“Do what you can Bitters.” Prince James said then turned back to me. “Lieutenant Cole, I know that you don’t want to hear this, but you, Marks, and Little are transferring over to the base at Billings. I’m sorry but we just don’t have the fighters for everyone. That attack has basically crippled our ability to wage an air campaign of any type other than defensive.”

I didn’t want to hear that part and I knew how to change his mind. “Sir there are two experimental fighters sitting in the hanger over at the manufacturing center. Between myself and Little we can fly those birds. It will give us a better chance of defending this base.”

I really wasn’t ready to bring my baby to the attention of the military but if it was the only way I got to stay in this fight then so be it. Prince James looked at me then sighed. “You said that center can produce fighters in hours off of known designs, Lieutenant. How long for a full Wing?”

Lilly gave me the calculations and I smiled. “Seven hours, twenty-two minutes, and eighteen seconds from start to finish. Depending on the design. If you want lite interceptors about two hours sooner, for heavies about two and half hours longer. You want bombers fourteen hours and forty-three minutes. No matter the class. Ground attack fighter bombers we’re back to the original time of seven hours, twenty-two minutes. For assault shuttles the time will vary depended on type, but the standard will be around nineteen hours. Now that is going off the information from my AI sir. I don’t have hard facts. For that we would have to find the center’s manager.”

“Then don’t just stand there, Lieutenant. Go get me those numbers.” Prince James looked around the tent. “Gentlemen, this is where we make our stand. Major Steward, how fast can those Engineers of yours build the needed fortifications for this base? By that I mean full trench work with interlocking fields of fire for APS units and bunkered artillery.”

“Give us thirty-seven hours of uninterrupted work and you’ll have your basic Light infantry battle positions. Another ten, will get you APS defilades and pillboxes for the artillery. Get me sixty hours and I’ll turn this base into a full fire and support base with all the trimmings, sir.” I looked over at the Combat Engineer Major in shock. All he wanted was two days to give the Prince want he requested.

“I’ll do what I can Major Steward. Major Lee, how long before you can have the APS battalion battle ready?” Prince James asked of his XO.

“Four hours to clear the hanger doors of ruble and another three to clear the gantries. The good news is only one of the assault APS took any damage, sir.” Lee answered. “Before you ask sir, it was Major Hood’s APS. As he is currently in the hospital it will not affect our operations.”

“What of the Scouts, Mediums, Fire Supports, and Heavies, Lee? Are they in good condition?” Prince James asked quickly.

“Yet to be determined sir. The roof of the APS hanger is being held up by the gantries. Until we can clear the ruble we just won’t know sir.” I almost shit my pants at hearing this. Without those battlefield monsters the only hope of defending this base was the Light Infantry positions and ground attack fighters. Fighters that would need cover to do their jobs. The news didn’t get any better.

“Major Cole, how do we stand with the Infantry?”

“It’s a mixed bag of tricks sir. Between the two battalions I have one medium Fast Attack Battalion and one pure Light Air Assault battalion. The Fast Attack is outfitted with Mark four D FAV’s and Bravo nine B IFV’s. they’re the heavy hitters for the Infantry. Without their air support the Assault Battalion would be best used in pre-dug defensive positions. That is the best I can do for you sir.” I wanted to smack Sylvester at this point. Then he really dropped the bomb. “Unlike the Lieutenant I don’t see any reason for defending this base with what we have. I suggest we plant charges and destroy everything in place sir.”

“I’ll take your opinion under advisement Major Cole.” Prince James told him then turned to the next man in line. “Major Jackson, what’s the status of those fuel tanks and the ammo dump?”

“Way too much to move or leave in place, sir. Even if we set charges and blew everything there would be no way of insuring we got it all. I won’t even go into what it would take to get rid of the supply warehouses and manufacturing center. I doubt that we have the explosives needed to even put a dent in those places sir.”

I gave Jackson an appraising look. Of all the officers in the tent he was the only one that was an elf. Which in todays military was a rarity. Then again, I was even more of the rarity so I had no room to talk.

When I looked back over at the Prince, I could tell he had already made up his mind. “AS I said at the start people, we make our stand here. This base stands or falls by our efforts. Steward you and your people got forty hours to get those battlements dug and built. Lee, I want those APS lances free and operating in the next seven hours. Cole, use the FAV team as O.P.’s and roving scouts. I don’t want another surprise attack like this morning. Jackson, do what you can to spread out those munitions and fuel. Major Bitters have you raised the Division Command Post yet?”

The Communications Major turned to the Prince and just flipped a switch on his console. What came out of the speakers grabbed everyone’s attention, but especially mine. “This is Black Eagle Six. Broken Arrow, I repeat Broken Arrow. This is not a drill. All units to rally at Fire Base, Whiskey Sierra Romeo Delta. I say again. All units this net, Broken Arrow. It’s been an honor, Black Eagle Six Out.”

I didn’t even wait for the order. I ran from the CP and headed for the manufacturing center’s hanger. I didn’t realize how fast I was running until Lilly activated my HUD. I passed the 89kph mark before I was halfway to the hanger. No one had called a Broken Arrow in over thirty years. The last person to do so was the late Queen Tatianna of High Winds. I was not about to let Black Eagle Six join her in a final battle alone against overwhelming odds.

I reached the hanger just as Chief Daily and his band of misfits were rolling the XF-11 into position for takeoff. I noticed that the fighter was fully prepped for combat. Chief Daily tossed me, my flight helmet. “You’re going to need that ma’am.”

“Thanks Chief. How did you know to get her ready for combat?”

“We figured that you won’t just let yourself get transferred without going after the Black Witch first. We just didn’t expect you to come hauling ass through the door like that.” Chief Daily smirked letting me know that he was unaware of the situation at Division Command.

“Chief, we’ve got a broken arrow at Division Command. Does she have the legs to reach that far?” I asked as I climbed into the XF-11’s cockpit.

“More than enough to get you there, ma’am, at full throttle. Plus, twenty minutes worth of combat flight time. After that you’ll have to pull out. I’ll arrange for a refuel to meet you at the halfway point on your way back. You got nine Maverick ATA missiles, nine Sidewinder Rattlesnake ATA missiles, and six Mark eight Hawk ATG missiles. You got a one-hundred-fifty round cannon loadout in a mix of one-three, going from armor piercing, buckshot, and high explosive. Remember to stay light on the trigger for that bad boy. It’ll eat through that one-hundred and fifty rounds faster than a Mess Hall First Sergeant on a ten-day diet at cake eating contest. Also, you’ll want to keep an eye on the overrev gages. You push the engines too hard for the first half hour after takeoff you’ll burn out the fans.” Chief Daily never stopped giving me advice as I strapped into the ejection seat while he took care of hooking up my helmet. The last piece of advice I really didn’t want to hear. “Above all else Lieutenant, remember this bird is still experimental.”

“Gotcha, Chief. And thanks for the advice. I’ll try to bring her home in one piece.” As I reached over and started going through the engine startup sequence. “By the way did you and your guys ever come up with a designation for her?”

“The only one that fits her ma’am. She’s beautiful, she’s fast, she’s small, and above all else she’s deadly, just like you. Welcome the FB-11 Claymore. Or as we call her, The Silver Eyed Witch.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 10
WSRDC, New Texas,
I had to fight to keep the blush from my face. To have an aerospace fighter named after me was embarrassing as hell. Even more embarrassing then after having one designated as a Claymore. But as I closed the canopy and pushed the throttles forward I could feel the excitement rising. Even with the sound dampening qualities of my helmet and the cockpit canopy I could hear and feel the massive rumble of the Pratt & Whitney R-4360-31 cyclone engines with duel thrusters. When Lilly’s voice came out of the speakers I was surprised by the quality and tone.

“Terresa, I think I’m in love with this new body Chief Daily built for us. I don’t have to fight with the C-n-C on board this airframe.” Lilly’s voice had a soft lilting quality to it now. Gone were the hard edges that came from the speakers in the Strike Eagles. Her voice now matched that when it was just her in my head.

“Let’s get off the ground before they catch us Lilly. I doubt that the Prince and my brother are going to stand for us taking out an extremely experimental aircraft right now. Now get us a course plotted for the Division Command Post, sister.” I was still pissed at losing that first Lightning to the Black Witch.

Lilly must have picked up on my anger over that loss as the growl that came in answer to my order reflected my own feelings. “Just get us off the ground sister dear. Then come right to heading one-four-eight. Then pour on the power.”

The radio crackled to life as I reached the hammerhead for runway one. “Unknown aircraft on runway one. Give your destination and id. Over”

I thought about that question. Then giggled as I keyed my mike. “Tower, this is Claymore flight zero-zero-one. Outbound for glory or death. Out”

I don’t even bother with further reply and shove the throttles to the stops. As I thundered down the runway I realize that we were only halfway down the strip and we were airborne. “MY GOD! This baby has power to spare.”

“Terresa, believe me when I say that we have yet to tape into the true power of this aircraft. I’ve had the engines throttled back to half until they are broke-in good. I won’t even go into the firepower this little beauty is hiding. The Chief was right when he described this aircraft.”

“Claymore zero-zero-one, just what the HELL do you think you’re doing? Over” I knew the voice before they even finish the second word.

“I’m going where I’m needed Alpha Tango Charlie. I told you before Slingshot I’m a Fighter pilot. This is my battle position. Over”

I knew that Sylvester was not going to take my answer well and I was right. “That is a negative Claymore flight. You are to return to base immediately. Over”

“Sorry no can do, Slingshot. I got a full load of Mavs, Snakes, and Hawks. Not to mention AC rounds. I got to drop more than half, or I plow in on the runway. So, I either help Delta Charlie or bomb the nearest merc post. Your choice. Over” I know that I just threw a monkey wrench into their works. I didn’t care either. I was headed for Division Command. “Lilly, how soon can we go to full military on the engines love?”

“Another five minutes Terresa. After that I can give you ninety percent on the engines. More than enough to get us there in time.”

I smiled behind my visor. I had already climbed to nine-hundred feet and set a course for the Division Command Post. I know that I’m running late but I have to try and help. I watch the timer on my HUD for the next five minutes. When it reaches zero Lilly slowly increases the power of the engines. Over the next ten minutes I watch the airspeed indicator climb steadily. I am amazed as my speed passes the Mach four mark as if it wasn’t there. Finally, at just over Mach four point nine my speed levels off. At this speed I’ll reach the battle in under five minutes.

“Lilly, are we really pushing Mach five?”

“We can go faster, Terresa. I just haven’t released the full power of our engines yet. I figure that they need more time to break in before going all out.”

“Holly shit! Lilly, you do know that no other fighter can match our current speed? Let alone anything faster than this. We’ll have to throttle back for combat maneuvers.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying. The FB-11 wasn’t a sportscar. It was a fracking rocket ship. NO! It was a demon of speed escaping from Hell.

“I doubt that we’ll have to slow down that much Terresa. The airframe is stressed for speeds and maneuvers at Mach six point eight. The only limit for this fighter is the pilot. Which in your case, there is none.”

The threat warning cutoff any more debate. I spotted the Ju-38 Stuka fighter bomber climbing fast to intercept me. I key my mike. “Black Eagle Six, this is Claymore flight zero-zero-one in bound from Whiskey Romeo Delta. Authenticate blue thunder how copy? over”

“Good copy Claymore flight. Authenticate Purple rain. Be advised that all aircraft in the area are hostile. I say again all aircraft are hostile. Over”

That was all I needed to hear to send the Stuka to the happy hunting grounds. I announced my arrival over the battlefield by downing the Stuka with a bust from all eight of my PPCs at once. Even through all the soundproofing of my cockpit canopy and helmet that one attack sounded as if the God Thor himself attacked the Stuka.

I rolled right to clear the falling wreckage of the Stuka and dropped towards the deck. I knew where my next targets would be waiting. I miss judged my speed and overshot my targets. The three RD-4S Wrights flipped over in the wake of my passing. At so low to the ground the Wrights were unable to recover in time before crashing into the ground. “My GOD LILLY! WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!”

“We caught them in our backwash Terresa. I think that our new fighter might be just a little overpowered for what it is designed to be.”

“YOU THINK!” I couldn’t believe what had happened. Little did I know that my speed and attacks was causing sonic booms on the battlefield below. Nor did I realize the impact those sonic booms were having on the battle. I pulled back on the stick and climbed to find my next target. As I broke through the cloud cover there they were. Four KV-81 Sturmgewehr’s setting up for another attack run on the base below. As we closed I scanned for the one KV-81 Sturmgewehr that I really wanted.

“Damn it Terresa that bitch isn’t here. Why isn’t she here?!”

“Calm down Lilly. We deal with these four first. Then we go hunting the Black Bitch. Understood?” I needed Lilly to concentrate on the targets in front of us. “Besides if she’s not here, then we damaged her more than we thought.”

“Alright Terresa, but I still want that bitch.” I would swear that Lilly was ready to spit nails over not being able to fight Emily Calisto. I open the throttles to the max and nose over on the Sturmgewehr’s. The poor dumb bastards don’t even realize that I’m on their six o’clock high before it’s too late. I start firing at seven hundred meters shifting between the PPCs and PPLs. The speed and unexpected attack catches them all off guard. In my first pass I destroy two of the heavy fighters. Once I’m clear I pull up hard on the stick and climb again. Only this time I head straight for the two remaining Sturmgewehr’s. I get a hard lock whistle from my missiles and fire. I watch as two Maverick air-to-air missiles leave their launch rails heading for the enemy at over Mach four. Between my sudden change in direction and the speed of the Mavericks the two KV-81 Sturmgewehr’s never had a chance. They died the way they live. Fast and violently.

“Terresa, come hard left to course three-two-nine. Six heavy bombers inbound. From my scans we’re looking at Avro Mk-1 Manchester Heavies. Terresa those bombers carry enough ordinance to flatten the base.”

“Shit! So much for hunting the Bitch. Time for that later.” I pull hard on the stick and stand on the left rudder pedal. As I head for the bombers I run through the weaknesses for Manchester bomber. The more I scan the more I want to spit nails. The Manchester is a damned flying fortress. They’re as fast as most fighters and pack enough armor that I’ll need the autocannon and Sidewinder Rattlesnake ATA missiles to bring them down. As much as I hate this I flip the arming switch for the autocannon to arm. “Okay Lilly. Let’s get to work.”

I push the throttles forward once more, so I can get some altitude on the bombers. I know coming in from above is risky as all hell, but it is the only way to attack heavy bombers in formation. You dive down through them with guns blazing. All while hoping their defensive weapons don’t get a lock on you. Bombers maybe slow compared to a fighter, but they pack a shit load of anti-air defensive weapons. As I reach my attack position I spot my biggest worry. The escort fighters.

“Lilly, I know that I am not seeing what I am seeing.”

“I wish I could lie and ease your mind Terresa. Those are one-oh-nines straight out of hell. I count eight.” That was two for every bomber. Bf-109E fighters are a true nightmare in the skies. And I had the pleasure of taking on eight of them AND trying to stop a flight of Manchester bombers.

“Frack it! Glory or death!” I called out as I dive on the bombers. “Hang on to your ass Lilly here we go!”

“Death or Glory Terresa! It has been an honor to fly with you if we don’t make it!”

The fact that we were both having to scream over the roar of the engines was not lost on me. from twelve-hundred feet I dived on the bombers gaining speed with every passing hundred feet. My altimeter was whirling around like the second hand of a stopwatch. I rocket in from the six o’clock high position on the bombers. Their tail-gunners are the first to spot me and open up with heavy pulse laser fire. I return fire using my PPLs. I know that they’ll only peal paint at this range, but it will hopefully throw off their targeting. Lilly gets a double hard lock for the Sidewinders. I pull the trigger twice and two of those aircraft killers leave their launch rails. I don’t bother to follow them in with my eyes. Those babies are radar guided and they don’t miss.

As I pass through the tight formation two of the bombers explode. I drop over three hundred feet below the formation before pulling back on the stick and looping back up and over the formation. Not even the 109s can follow me. Both the fighters and the bombers have lost me in the smoke of the twin explosions and the clouds bellow. They were not expecting me to come at them head on firing the autocannon at point-blank-range. I send a double burst into the cockpits of the two lead aircraft. Both bombers are hit full on by two, three-round bursts that tears apart their cockpits sending them plummeting to the ground in uncontrollable spirals.

I’m not as lucky getting out this time as I am greeted by the 109s as I come out of my attack. I feel the pounding of heavy gunfire along my left wing and left engine boom. I double check the readout for damage in those areas. I am amazed to find that neither of them are flashing the warning yellow of being damaged. In fact, they’re still showing green. Even with all the high stress maneuvers that I have pulled none of my control surfaces or airframe indicators show any damage. I feel the smile I wear just crack my lips. I knew that I was now the apex predator in the skies. I was the one that was the hunter. The Death Dealer battle cry may strike fear into the hearts of their opponents but in the skies it would be the faint smile of a Claymore that would bring terror now.

As I sped passed the 109s I return the favor of their attack. I target and fire on their tail-end-Charlie. The poor bastard takes the full brunt of my PPLs. I keep waiting to hear the overheat warnings from all this combat, but they have yet to come. I double check those gages as they mean life or death in combat. What I find amazes me beyond belief. The gages couldn’t be right.

“Lilly, are we really running and gunning that cold?”

“The weapons, engines, and heatsink gages are working correctly Terresa. I’m just as astonished as you are over this. I can only attribute this to a combination of our speed and the oversized heatsinks that Chief Daily installed.”

I want to finish this conversation, but those last two bombers were getting close to their bomb run initiation points. I pull Railly twist at just over Mach four to lose the 109s and climb. At twelve-hundred feet I nose back over and sweep right into a drive on the last bombers. Once again, the whistle of a hard target lock screams in my ears as the bombers come into line. At just over two miles I pull the trigger and two Sidewinder Rattlesnakes leave their launch rails. I pull the trigger a second time sent a second and the last of those killers after the bombers. With two air-to-air aircraft killers screaming toward them at over Mach four the bombers never stood a chance in hell.

I turn my attention back to the seven very angry 109s out to get revenge for the deaths of their charges. As I pull out of the unexpected maneuver I get the steady whistling tone of a hard target lock for my remaining six Maverick missiles. I glance at my HUD and see six solid green crosshairs painted on the 109s. I don’t even think twice and pull the trigger six times. I feel my last six Sidewinders leap from their launch rails and scream towards the targeted 109s.

While the Maverick air-to-air missile lacks the explosive punch of the Sidewinder Rattlesnake it more than makes up for it in pure kinetic energy punch. As the six missiles rocket towards their intended targets I shift my attention to the remaining 109. This one is going to be a pain in the ass for me. The pilot is already pealing off in an attempt to escape the battle. Even as I roll the stick and point my nose to follow the escaping 109 the Mavericks reach their final attack range. At just over two-hundred meters the missiles second-sage boosters kicked in and drove the warheads to their final attack velocity. At just over Mach 8 the solid core tungsten long rod penetrators slam home on the fuselages of the 109s. The sheer kinetic force of those six pieces of metal is enough to crush a five-story building. The light thirty-ton escort fighters never stood a chance.

As the six doomed 109s fell towards earth I zeroed in on the last remaining 109. I slide in behind the poor bastard and flip the arming switch for the autocannon. I want to get this over with fast. He jinks right then slip slides left followed up with a snap roll to climb out of my firing arch for the autocannon. I have to give the pilot his props. The man is good, but not good enough. Not good enough by far. I pull back and left on the stick give a little right rudder and fall right back onto his six o’clock. My crosshairs flash green and pull the trigger. The three-round burst slams into the tail section of the 109. My smile grows even wider as the 109 goes into a slow lefthanded roll smoking. I stay with the 109 and fire one more time. This time the burst stiches down the fuselage on the right-hand side. The 109 jerks up out of its lefthanded roll. I watch as the pilot ejects from the doomed fighter and drops out sight.

“Terresa, come left, head two-eight-zero, and drop to three-hundred feet. There are four PBY-seventy-six King Fish ground attack fighters setting up for an attack run. We might not be able to stop them all, but we can drive them off.”

I don’t even argue with Lilly and do as she tells me. as I drop through the clouds and down to 300 feet, I spot the four ground attack fighters. At seventy-tons these are some of the heaviest ground attack aerospace fighters built. I knew that my beam weapons won’t do much against their armor, but my autocannon could punch holes. Big damned holes through that armor. “Lilly give me an ammo count, love”

“For missiles we’re down to the Mark eight Hawk ATGs. Autocannon rounds are down to one-hundred-and-twenty-six. All beam weapons are fully functional and fully charged. In short Terresa we’re down to direct fire weapons for air-to-air combat and a small ground attack ability.”

I was brought up short by the number of autocannon rounds. “Lilly are you sure about the autocannon rounds? I only fire four times.”

The sigh that came from the speakers told me Lilly was not happy about me questioning her numbers. “Terresa, you were told to go light on the trigger for the AC. You pulled the trigger on that beast eight times. That’s twenty-four rounds out of one-hundred and fifty in total. Now get your head back in the game. We’re dropping on those King Fish fast. Remember go light on the trigger for the autocannon.”

“Yes mom.” I quipped as I rolled over to line up on the lead King Fish. I almost laugh that I’m playing chicken at close to Mach two with this slow moving subsonic fighter. I hear the whistle for a target lock and pull the trigger. Once again my autocannon roars spitting out a three-rounds burst of death and destruction. Unlike my attack on the 109 the PBY-76 shrugs off the autocannon attack. I know that it will take more than just a three-round burst to bring down those heavily armored fighters. The damned things are flying tanks. I jerk back on the stick and pop up and over the lead fighter. I let the lead pass beneath me and fire on the next PBY-76.

Once again, I leapfrog over my target as it shrugs off my attack. I keep doing this with the last two PBY-76s. My aim is not to destroy them in one pass but to drive them off or break up their attacks on the base. I know using the AC is using ammunition like crazy, but it is guaranteed to gain their attention. As I pull up and swing around I scan for the four PBY-76s. I find them alright, and I let my smile grow to the point that teeth would be showing if not for my visor.

My plan to force them to scatter worked better than I expected. In fact, I could pick them off one at time. Yet I don’t have too. They’re all running from the battle zone as fast as their engines can push the airframes. With this threat removed from the skies the ground forces of Division Command will be able to retake first the base and then secure the surrounding area.

Keying my mike, I contact Division Command. “Black Eagle Six, this is Claymore zero-zero-one, Over”

“Claymore zero-zero-one, this is Black Eagle Six, good to hear from you. Over”

“IT’s good to be able to talk to you Six. We own the skies. Over”

“Thanks, Claymore. Any chance you can do something about those Long Toms that are raising hell with our ground forces. Over”

I ran what was left of my armament load out through my head. “Black Eagle Six, I have six Mark eight Hawk Alpha Tango Gulfs on the rails. Where and when do you want them? Over”

“Grid seven-seven-eight by one-six-five bearing one-one-five. How copy? Over”

I quickly input the grid coordinates into the onboard navigation system. Lilly takes things further. She places a topographical map up for me with the coordinates marked in red. “Seven-seven-eight by one-six-five, Black Eagle. Call in for the coffee and cigs, Black Eagle. One hot rain delivery on the way. Out”

“Good hunting Claymore. We’ll send Jocker the bill for your coffee and cigs. Out”

I climb to eight-hundred feet and level off before setting course for the target. This is one time that altitude is needed more than speed. I even pull back on the throttles dropping my airspeed down just over four-hundred knots. I switch over from air-to-air radar to my ground acquisition and train following radar. I grin as the old saying about aerial combat comes to mind.

“One minute you’re in a dog fight, fighting for your life. The next you’re on a bombing run.” I say to nobody really.

“Terresa what in the world are you talking about? And who are you talking to?”

“It’s an old saying about aerial combat Lilly. What it means is you never know what you’ll be faced with in aerial combat from one minute to the next. As for who I’m talking to it was just myself.” I really wanted to find those artillery pieces and put those six ground attack missiles to their best use.

“You know that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity right Terresa?”

I start laughing when I hear this from Lilly. Normally the only person that can hear her is me. And that is just in my head. “Lilly, you do know that if hearing voices that no one else can is also a sign of insanity, right?”

“I refuse to accept that as a reason to define insanity from sanity. Heads up sis. We’re coming up on the target zone.”

I took a good look at the target zone and shit. You couldn’t have found a better natural defense position for an artillery battery. Sheer canyon walls on two sides going into a box canyon. With the valley entrance leading away from the base and a thousand-foot-tall mountain giving them cover from return fire. I start hearing the slow steady beep of the Hawks scanning for targets. When I don’t get the solid whistle tone of a hard lock I know that I’ll have to overfly the valley.

I reach the far end and swing around for a better attack vector. This time I spot the flashes of the Long Toms firing. The flashes tell me two things. First, I don’t have enough Hawks to kill them all. Second, is the size of the guns. “Sweet Mother of the Goddess, Lilly! Those have to be sixteen inchers down there.”

“Terresa I have finished analyzing the scans. You’re right about the size of those guns. I have also found the munition haulers. I don’t understand why but they are all circled up in the center of the guns. Terresa look at the overhang of the eastern wall. We drop our Hawks in a staggered formation on the haulers the resulting shockwaves could bring down the whole eastern wall on top of the Long Toms.”

I looked at what Lilly was talking about. Sure enough, if I dropped the Hawks the way Lilly talked about it could result in the total collapse of the eastern wall. Then I spotted the fault in her plan. I needed to weaken the overhang before it would collapse. One of the good things about using Mark eight Hawk ground attack missiles is they don’t rely on gravity to get them to their target. I reset the targeting for two of my missiles. Once I have individually targeted each missile I pulled the trigger for all six missiles. I watch them fall away from my fighter before lighting off their rocket boosters.

Over the next seven seconds I watch as the six missiles race towards their explosive ends. The first two slam into the eastern wall just bellow a massive crack in the rockface that runs horizontal to the overhang. Their attack would ensure that what the other four do succeeds. As those four missiles reach their target the explosion is amplified by the munitions carried by the haulers for the Long Toms. Even at eight-hundred feet above the valley I have to fight for control from the shockwave. I knew that I was about to raise unholy hell in that valley, but I had greatly underestimated the explosive power of those sixteen-inch high explosive rounds.

The sympathetic explosions of those massive artillery rounds shook not only the air but the very ground of the valley floor. Once I regained control over my fighter I continue to circle the valley looking for signs that my attack succeeded. It started slowly at first just a slight shifting of the trees on the mountain. Then slowly like some forgotten giant waking from a long deep endless slumber the mountain side began to roll downhill. It was like a great hand reached up and grabbed hold of the valley walls and pulled them inward. I watched in fascination as the once great valley walls crashed down around the artillery unit.

“Terresa, I hate to tell you this, but we need to breakoff operations.”

“What? Why? We can still help out with the defense of the Division Command Post.” I snapped out angerly.

“No, we can’t Terresa. Check the fuel gage. We’re down past the halfway mark. We can no longer perform combat operations and safely return to base. As it is we will need a mid-air refuel to land safely.”

I did as Lilly asked and started cussing like a star sailor. Keying my mike, I gave into the inevitable. “Black Eagle Six, this is Claymore zero-zero-one. Over”

“Claymore zero-zero-one go for Black Eagle Six. Over”

“Black Eagle the skies are clear, and the Long Toms silenced. Over”

“Copy Claymore. Thanks for the cover. Over”

“No problem on the cover Black Eagle. Got some bad news for you. I’m short on go-go juice and bingo on missiles. Sorry guys but you’re on your own from here. Over”

“No problem Claymore. We’re starting clean up operations now. You took out those guns and the fight left the Op-For. Head on home we got more top cover inbound. Your Chief arranged for a gas station to meet you halfway. How copy? Over”

Those last few words were sweat honey to my ears. “Good copy Black Eagle. Have a nice day and send the bill to Joker for my cigs and Scotch. Claymore out.”

I turned to the heading that would take me home. I really wanted to stretch the legs on my new fighter, but I just didn’t have the fuel reserves for that. With great restraint I flew at a leisurely pace towards White Sands. I had not realized just how fast or far I had traveled when I first left the base. What had taken me a mere half hour to cover now was taking me close to three hours. The power, speed, and straight of the FB-11 is amazing. I know that I will never want to fly another aircraft again into combat. I spot the KC-135 Stratotanker just before I reach the one-third mark on my fuel gage. After listening to the boom operator guide me in and fifteen minutes later I had a full tank of go-go juice.

As I pulled away I signaled the operator thanks and flew on towards WSRDC. As I approach I am greeted by the CAP fighters pulling in on my portside wingtip. “Having fun there, Scorpion? Over”

“More fun than a barrel full of monkeys, Shaggy. What’s the condition of the airstrips? Over” I asked of Captain Heartwell as I headed for runway number one.

“Two and three are cleared and open for operations Scorpion. One is in use for rescue flight operations. We got a real shit storm on our hands here Scorpion. We got flights from all over the planet coming in. Over”

Heartwell told me more in those few words than I expected over an open network. If runway one was being used for rescue operations only then the planet wide situation was bad. “How many flights are inbound Shaggy? Over”

“Got four A-400 Atlas’ in the pattern right now, Scorpion. Over”

Shit that was not good news. If the brass is already bringing in the A-400’s for rescue operations that means the shit really hit the fan. And not just at Division Command. It was everywhere. “Shaggy, just how deep is the brown smelly stuff? Over”

“Got a bucket loader handy Scorpion. Over”

Our conversion gets interrupted by a every unwelcome voice. “Claymore zero-zero-one this White Sands air traffic control. Over”

“White Sands control this is Claymore zero-zero-one over” I know I should sigh but I do anyway. I know that my time in the air is over and with it most likely my time as a fighter pilot. “Well, Lilly looks like our last flight has been our best.”

“Agreed Terresa. This has been one hell of a flight. Maybe we can get a job flying a crop-duster on your home planet.”

“Claymore zero-zero-one come right to heading two-two-zero and descend to one-five-zero and squawk for intent. Over”

“Copy White Sands, come right to two-two-zero, and descend to one-five-zero. Squawk intent. Over” I replied. Then lined up for final approach for landing. “Lilly have you completed your analyses of the battle yet?”

“Yes, I have Terresa. What is it you wish to know?”

“Did it seem like that our missiles and weapons were having a greater impact than they should have, or it is just my imagination?”

“Not really when you consider that every shot fired, every missile launched, was targeted for a weakness in the enemy craft. Something that only you could have done. You are unique among pilots Terresa. No other can do what you can.”

“Wait are you telling me that I was the one making all those targeting solutions?”

“That is exactly what I am saying Terresa. It was taking all of my computational power to just keep up with tracking and finding targets for you to engage and control the engines, heatsinks, and other flight control systems. All combat decisions were totally up to you. Terresa, I will be honest with you. Your ability to multitask outstrips even mine.”

I had to put the thoughts of what Lilly just told aside for now. I was on final approach for landing. I was in the last seven seconds. Again, I am forced to remember the words of a Flight Instructor. ‘Five and seven Cole. Always remember those two numbers. The deadliest times during every flight are the first five minutes and last seven minutes. Those are the times that you are the closest to the ground with no room for recovery if you screwup.’

“Claymore zero-zero-one you are cleared to land. Welcome home Scorpion.”

“Copy tower touching down now. Good to be home.” I feel my rear landing gear touchdown first then a few seconds later the nose gear. I’m down safe and sound. I let out the breath I was holding. “Takeoffs are optional. Landings are mandatory.”

“I take it that is an old saying between pilots, Terresa?” Lilly asked me. “The reason I ask is because of the five and seven comment you always make before and after a flight.”

“Sure is Lilly. One those two are the most important rules every pilot learns on the first day of Flight School. You forget them and you’re dead on the tarmac.” I told her with real passion as I pulled in behind the guide truck. I explained what they meant over the next ten minutes as the truck led us over to a bunker where a tug hooked up to my nose gear then backed us into the bunker.

I was still shutdown the engines when Chief Daily and his ground crew swarmed the aircraft. I had just gotten the canopy popped when Chief Daily attached the ground ladder and was climbing up the side to help me out of the pilot’s seat and harness. As pulled my helmet over my head I smiled up that the grinning Chef Warrant Officer.

“That was one hell of a show you put on up there, Lieutenant. I knew you were hot shit on the stick but to take out an experimental airframe and claim eighteen air victories is unheard of. On any planet! That gives you what? Thirty-one aircraft kills, and one ship kill now?”

“It’s thirty-two aircraft kills, Chief and one ship kill. Add in the two ground attack missions and I had one hell of a combat career. Too bad it’s over before I can paint any of the stars on the nose.” I told him honestly and with great sadness.

“I don’t think so ma’am. I was in the CP monitoring your flight and you should have heard what the Colonel and Major Cole were saying. Suffice to say I doubt you’ll be grounded anytime soon.” There was something about Chief Daily’s encouraging words that lifted my sprits as I climbed down from the cockpit. Once on the ground I turned to face the three people I really didn’t want to see on the flight line.

“Flight Lieutenant First Class Cole if it was up to me your happy little ass would be grounded until doomsday. After that the only job you would be able to get is piloting a dropship with a cargo of nothing but rubber dogshit, exploding cigars, and cupie dolls out of Neo Taiwan!” I knew then and there I had royally screwed the pooch. Colonel Nakatoma wasn’t even finished with chewing my ass out and he was already threatening me with lifetime grounding. “Fortunately for you Eagle Six has stepped in on your behalf.”

Sylvia gave me the gambit eye as she stepped forward to take over for the Colonel. “Lieutenant Cole, you’re to report to Medical for a post flight EVAL. Where in it will be determined if you’re fit enough to continue flight operations.”

“Only after you have been cleared for flight operations will you be allowed near YOUR fighter. Sorry, Lieutenant but that’s how it has to be.” Colonel Nakatoma told me with a grim look to his face.

“Yes sir. I understand. I pulled a boneheaded stunt and have to pay the price.” I answered meekly. I knew I had screwed up by disobeying orders, but I wasn’t going to try and talk my way out of my actions by justifying them.

“Good. Now that we have the compulsory ass chewing out of the way. How does that beautiful little fighter of yours handle?” I had to blink twice at hearing this sudden change in mood by the Colonel. The man’s mood was like Quick Silver. I take a few seconds then give him a mile-wide smile. When Sylvia and Sylvester saw this they both groan causing Colonel Nakatoma to give them a strange look. “I take it by your groans that the Lieutenant smiling is not a good thing?”

“You could say that sir. You could say that.” Sylvester sighed out as he gave me a sideways look. “Alright sis, out with it.”

“I can only say this about the FB-eleven. She handles like a speed demon straight out of hell on rails, jacked up on pure Blue Diamond crystal.” When I reference the latest illegal speed drug to plague the Empire.

“Holy shit! Just how fast is that bird?” Sylvia asked me.

“I haven’t really had a chance to stretch her legs yet, but I did hit Mach five point five during combat operations.” I gave her a sheepish smile.

“FIVE POINT FIVE MACH!” this time it not Lieutenant Colonel Nakatoma that was talking but the Crown Prince. “Just how fast can that beast over there go?”

“To be honest sir. I don’t have a clue. I do know that the airframe is stressed for combat maneuvers at Mach six point eight. Taking that into account I would hazard to that the Claymore’s top speed is somewhere around Mach eight or so in flat level flight. As for maneuverability she moves and acts like a ballet dancer.”

“Damn. I hope that you’re not the only pilot that fly that fighter?” the Crown Prince asked of me in true awe.

“Sir, I have to say that I don’t really know. What I do know is that whoever pilots a FB-eleven had better be equipped with a Death Dealer AI. Just to be able to handle the engines, navigation, and anti-targeting control systems. I had to turn over all control of those vital systems to my own AI during the fight. I had my hands full just flying that beautiful little Dealer of Death from the skies.” I know that my answer threw them all for a loop by the looks on their faces.

“I take it that the Claymore lives up to its proud name?” Prince James asked of me.

I smiled even wider as Chief Daily walked up behind me when I answered the Prince. “Oh, she does sir. She lives up to both of her names sir.”

“Aye, sir. I would even say that she goes beyond just living up to her name. She fast, she’s small, and above all else she’s deadly as all hell. Just like the lady she was named after, sir.” Chief Daily said with pride. Then he smirked. “The first ever Claymore truly is a Silver Eyed Witch.”

Amazon Super Carrier Anaconda, just offshore in the Sea of Galveston
Emily Calisto was in a great mood as she climbed down from her beloved fighter, Marybelle. The raid on the Imperialist compound had gone perfectly. Within the first ten minutes her Squadron had swept aside any and all resistance from their fighters. The reports coming from the other raids just buoyed her spirits all the more. Everything had gone right. Her plan was perfect. They owned the skies over New Texas and nobody was going to take them back.

Nothing was going to bring her down. Not today, nothing was going to bring down her joyous mood. Of the forty Imperialist bases all but ten had been attacked in the first raids. That didn’t count the twenty suspected rebel bases that were bombed. Emily had planned every attack down to the last second. Even now Emily could see the total rout of the Empire’s military all across the planet. With one master stroke of genius she had elevated her family above all others.

As she walked towards the Control Tower Emily let her smile play across her face. When her Crew Chief approached her Emily Calisto smiled even broader. “Chief prep for the next mission. Full combat loadout on all pylons Chief. I’m going to go grab something to eat while you take care of that.”

“Sorry my Lady, but the Admiral has ordered you to report to him first.” For the Crew Chief to contradict her on the flight line meant that it was important.

“Thank you, Chief. Still see to rearming Marybelle.” Emily continued on inside, not giving the Chief another thought. After all he was of the Worker Class, a drone, nothing more than that in her mind. Just as were all of the enlisted members of the Amazon military forces. Only the officers were High Class and worth her attention.

As she took the left to the Command Deck Emily went over the next rounds of attack in her mind. “Unless those fools in the army failed to carry out their orders. We should have total military dominance of New Texas by sunset tomorrow. By this time tomorrow the Army should have five full Armored Division with APS support planet side ready to attack. While what is left of the Imperialists will have been forced on to that worthless R-n-D base in the middle of the Great White Desert. And the civilian rebels will be meat for our grinder.”

When the door opened Emily was not met with the praise she expected but very harsh glares from the Fleet Admiral and Commanding General. As she bowed to the two Commanders Emily wondered what had happened. She didn’t have long to wait in finding out the problem. “Flight Leader Calisto what do you know about this new attack fighter of the Imperialist dogs’?”

Emily was brought up short by this question of the Admiral’s. “Sir, as far as I know there is only the experimental fighters at the R-n-D base. They are not even fitted with proper AI’s for testing purposes. The Strike Eagle is nothing more than a glorified attempt to catch up with our Sturmgewehr.”

“That is not the fighters we are talking about Flight Leader. The one we’re talking about is the twin-boom nightmare that swept our air support from the skies over the Empire’s One-hundred-and-first Divisional Compost. All by itself!” The general scream at the top of his lungs.

Emily had to blink then fight back her natural response to scream at the superior officer in return. “Sir, I do not know of any such fighter. The only fighters that have the twin tail-boom configuration are the P-Thirty-eights Lightings medium weight fighter, and the heavier P-sixty-one Black Widow multirole fighter/bomber. Both of which have neither the range nor the firepower to take on what was assigned for the attack on the Death Dealer Command Post.”

The thought of at least not a single aircraft could ran through Emily’s head. The thought of there being a third type of forked-tailed devil was not one Emily enjoyed. Black Widows and Lightnings are hard enough to deal with. The only way to insure a kill against either of those two nasty fighters was to get them down low close to the ground in a narrow valley or through overwhelming numbers. These two fighters were well known, and both had earned their rather colorful nickname of forked-tailed devils. For there to be third type was not welcome news.

Emily’s fears were confirmed by the General waved at one of the bridge crew. “Put up the video from the gun cameras Seaman. Care to explain just what this aircraft is then Flight Leader?”

There in the holo-tank was an aircraft that should not exist. Every line of the aircraft screamed with deadly intent and hostile beauty. The most striking feature was the distinctive twin booms and a central nacelle containing the cockpit and armament. At first glance Emily would have sworn that she was looking at a cross between the P-38 and P-61. Yet this fighter lacked the distinctive ‘hump’ of the P-61 and had twice the power and weapons of the P-38. Emily could tell that this fighter was of a totally new and untested design. A fighter that was designed to one thing and one thing only, kill other aerospace fighters. It was a true air supremacy fighter unlike any other.

“That sir is a totally new design and one that we must have.” Emily didn’t even bother with hiding her jealousy over the fact that the Empire had such a fighter. “That aerospace fighter is pure death in the air. I fear what it will be like to face one in the cold black of space. That is if this video is accurate.”

“It is accurate Flight Leader. We lost every aircraft you had assigned for the support of the attack on the Empire’s Division Command Post. The only exception was the four PBY seventy-six King Fish that were assigned as close air support. If it had not been for their heavy armor I doubt that any of those air craft would have survived a second attack though. We count no less than eight PPCs, twenty PPLs, an autocannon, and pylons for twenty missiles. We have estimated that this fighter could be fitted with both missiles and bombs, but the payload cannot exceed half the gross weight of this fighter. Placing the payload around thirty to thirty-five hundred pounds. That does not include the autocannon munnions.” Emily gave the holo-tank technician a harsh look but said nothing.

“So, Flight Leader, any clue as to where the Imperialists came by such an advanced fighter? One that could change the tide of battle so easily.” The Admiral asked Emily Calisto in a cold tone that did not speak well of her future.

“The White Sands Reach and Development Center has everything needed for them to not only build but test a fighter like that. We should have the Center under our control no later than tomorrow afternoon, sir. When that happens, we can build as many of those new fights as we wish.” Emily was sure that her plan was still on track.

“I doubt that will be happening anytime soon Flight leader. Thanks to that fighter we do not have control of the skies. That belongs to the Empire. We may have the edge in numbers, but they have the edge in technology. Even the Strike Eagles have handed our fighters and ground forces a resounding defeat. Until we can take that new fighter out of the equation or take the WSRDC we have reached a stalemate. We will be consolidating our gains before continuing with further attacks. Dismissed.”

Emily wanted to call the Admiral a coward and worse but her genetic programing overrode her temper once more. With a salute she turned and left the Bridge. Once outside again Emily noticed that fighters were returning but none were launching. “Those damned cowards. We only needed forty more hours and the planet would have been ours. I know that my plan was working. Why have they just decided to stop? Do they have no honor? NO desire for glory?”

“I can answer that for you Flight Leader.” As Emily turned to face the person who spoke she was brought up short. The Religious Cast rarely traveled aboard military ships in the Amazon Collective. “The Admiral and General do not fear combat as you would believe. No instead they fear the loss of ground and success that has been paid for in the blood of their fellow soldiers. They will fortify what we have gained today and resupply before moving onto the next line of targets.”

“I’m sorry Priest, but I fail to see the need for such timed reactions. We have the momentum now. We should be pushing for more ground not consolidating and resupplying. Defense will not win this war for us.” Emily knew that she was right.

The Priest just sighed and turned to walk away saying. “Westmoreland thought as you do and time proved him wrong as well.”

Emily waited until she was alone again before turning to look out over the waters surrounding the Super Carrier. “Besides out there right now is a true foe worthy of my talents. One that will test both my skills and Marybelle’s metal.” Emily sighed. “Oh what a Glorious day that shall be when we finally meet. It shall truly be Glory or Death for one of us. What a way to die.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 11

Shinigami Battle Platform Ryuk, Hades System.

“Empress Maiha! Empress Maiha!” The note of panic in the voice of her maid Kina pulled both Maiha and Alice from their well-deserved slumber. “Empress Maiha! Princess Allison! Please wake up!”

Alice rolled over and nudged Maiha in the ribs. “Maiha, Kina is at the door. Something’s up love.”

Maiha rolled away from the elbow to the ribs and sat up. “Might as well get up Alice. I have a feeling that the shit hit the fan somewhere in the Empire.”

As the royal couple pulled on the matching robes to their nightgowns Maiha hit the release to their bedroom door. “Come!” was all she called out.

Kina and Gin both entered the room at the same time. They were not alone as a very familiar face followed close on their heels. Both women smiled at their long time friend and one time bodyguard, Lisa Stills. Alice was the first to welcome the woman. “Lisa it’s so nice to see you again. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Thankyou, Princess Allison. It’s good to see you as well.” Lisa replied. After being hugged by her old friends Lisa sighed. “I too wish I was here under better circumstances, my Empress.”

“What do you have for me Lady Lisa?” Maiha asked her with the worry of an Empress.

“Thanks to my network I can verify that the Amazon Collective will no longer wait for the Hall of Judges to rule in their favor. The people of the New Southern Confederacy have armed themselves and are taking the fight to the mercenary units that are employed by the Amazon High Families. Empress Maiha, those people are not going to go down easy. More than half of them trace their family heritage back to the Confederate States of America from the American Civil War. For the past twenty-one monthly cycles there has been between ten to fifteen shipments of arms and munitions into that system. Not all of them were small arms either. According to one of my sources more than one of those shipments were Fast Attack Vehicles, heavy artillery, medium to heavy tanks, and Infantry Fighting Vehicles. I’m still trying to get a firm number on how many of those shipments there were. The only good news I can give you is there were no shipments of Armored Power Suits.” Lisa had spent her time in traveling to Hades and the Death Gates system building the report that Maiha would need. Thanks to her dropship captains and crews Lisa had built a massive spy network within the Empire.

Maiha sighed. This was not the good news she wanted to hear. “Lady Lisa do you have any more good news to report?”

“Only that Prince James will have his hands full the moment this shit bomb blows up in our faces.” Lisa knew what she was about say would really piss of the Empress. “The Amazons have more than eighteen divisions of crack troops ready to drop on that system to squash any opposition to their forceful take over.”

“Damn. You’re just full of good news Lisa.” Maiha turned and walked towards the view port of the bedroom. Looking out at the Clipper Class dropship just off the portside of Ryuk Maiha smiled. “I understand that you got your hands on a few of the new Clippers Lisa. How hard is it to pick them up on radar and lidar?”

“They’re fitted with full transponders because they’re hard as hell to spot without them. You want to slip in a covert force, they’ll do the job better than most.” Lisa answered without hesitation. “To be honest my Empress, they’re almost the perfect smuggling platform. I should know. My shipping frim has made a few off the book runs for our friends in the Yakuza.”

Alice and Maiha both chuckled at Lisa’s admission to make the runs for a certain maid in their employ. Nia had been one of Maiha’s maids from the very start and had ties to the Yakuza. Maiha went out of her way to use those ties from time to time. Usually to get supplies into systems under control of certain High Families trying to push for more concessions in the Hall of Lords.

“What kind of tonnage can those ships haul Lisa?” Maiha asked not letting her feelings show on her face or in her voice.

“Depends, your Majesty. It’s not so much a matter of weight but mass.” At Maiha and Alice’s confused looks Lisa sighed. She had had this conversation more than once with clients. As before she used a question to explain the problem. “What weighs more Empress a ton of led or a ton of feathers?”

Maiha just smirked. “Neither, they’re both one ton. It just takes a whole lot more feathers covering a massively large area to equal a ton.”

It finally dawned on Maiha what Lisa was saying. “So, its not so much the weight but the mass that restricts the cargo for the Clipper class dropship.”

“Depends on what you want my captains to smuggle in, Empress. If you’re talking small, med, and heavy arms then around sixty to one-hundred tons in shipping crates. The bigger a firearm the more area it takes up. When it comes to vehicles it all depends on the make and model. Each Clipper can carry a full company of FAVs or IFVs with no problem, the same can be said for tanks and artillery. The only exception to that is MLRS’s. Their size is the biggest limiting factor there. The biggest concern when it comes to transporting vehicles is their drop containers. You want to put a few APSs somewhere the most we can carry is a three full lance. Their weight classes won’t matter as even the new Empress class don’t exceed a hundred tons.” The more Lisa explained things for Maiha the more Maiha knew that she would be using her friend’s dropships.

“Thankyou, Lisa. You have given me a great deal to think about.” Maiha walked over to the coffee table in the room. After pouring three cups of tea she offers one to Lisa and Alice. “I will be getting back to you on what we’ll need to do later. For now, you can get me caught up on your sisters. What have Danila, Cassidy, and Susan been up to since retiring? How has life been treating you now that you’re a mother?”

Lisa chuckled at her old-time friend and employer. One minute she would be this deadly serious and imposing Empress of the Human Empire, the next, she was a normal everyday housewife wanting to gossip about her old schoolmate friends.

Super Carrier Lady Dai Etsu, Outer edge of New Confederate System.

Admiral Danial Cosby couldn’t believe the reports coming in from New Texas. More than half of the 101st Division had been destroyed in a matter of hours. The whole division had been forced to abandon all but two of their planet side bases. The White Sands R-n-D Center, and their Divisional Command Post. Even those two posts would have been lost if not for the efforts of one pilot and an experimental fighter craft. Whoever they were, they were death on the stick.

“Admiral, we’re receiving more reports from New Texas.” The yeoman at the communications center turned to face Cosby. “None of them are particularly good sir. Most are downright shitty.”

“No need for commentary Yeoman Sanders.” Cosby snapped as he held out his hand. After Sanders handed the reports over Cosby spent the next ten minutes just reading. The more he read the worse his mood became. The most depressing report was the final evacuation of the 101st Command Post. After retaking the base Divisional Command was forced to retreat to the WSRDC. All because they didn’t have adequate air support. That was his fault and he knew it. He knew that he should have seen the attack on the jump point for what it was, a diversion to draw him off. Two Amazon heavy Carriers had been destroyed in that battle, but at what cost? More than half of his fighters had been destroyed along with a full third of his torpedo bombers and three quarters of his ground attack craft.

That didn’t even take into account the damage his Carrier had suffered. With one flight deck damaged and two engine exhausts out of commission his Carrier’s combat capabilities have been greatly decreased. By more than half. If it had not been for the timely intervention of the Battleship Colorado coming through the jump point he would have lost the battle. Even that formidable battleship had taken severe damage from Kamikaze bombers. Of the battleship’s ten main-gun turrets three had been damaged to a point that the Colorado would need four months in dry dock for repairs. Also, the secondary gun batteries had their targeting computer destroyed and the crews were operating them manually.

The next report truly pissed Cosby off. Of the eighteen ships in his battlefleet only six had not taken damage in the surprise attack. They were also the ones to cause the enemy dropships the most damage. Cosby silently whispered his thoughts about those ships and the men that manned them. “They maybe the lightest and smallest ships in my fleet but those Corsairs always fight way above their weight class. And they usually win. Thank the Gods and Goddesses for them.”

“What was that sir?” The ships XO asked him from his station.

“Nothing XO. Just talking to myself. Any news on our request for additional forces?”

“Nothing yet sir.” The XO walked over to stand close to Cosby. In a low barely above a whisper tone. “We’re on our own out here Admiral. Fleet Command is spread far too thin right now. Between the resurgence of the pirates and keeping a Force Deterrence on the borders we just don’t have the ships.”

“Tell me something I don’t fracking know already Number One.” Cosby hissed out. “The Empress has been doing her damnedest to get us the needed ships but those ass hats in the Parliament and Hall of Lords keep trying to cut the budget.”

“I understand that sir, as does every other officer and enlisted that serves.” The XO gave the Admiral a small smile. “Like the old saying goes. ‘For us uncommon valor is always common.’ Sir we do the impossible so often that those shit sticks think that we can continue to do it with less.”

“Sorry for snapping Number One. I’m just trying to figure out how we’re going to support the ground forces and still keep the jump gate open. We just don’t have the forces to do both I’m afraid.” Cosby told his XO honestly.

“Then don’t try sir. We can only do one thing at a time. Until the rest of the Fleet can spare the ships we support the ground pounders.” The XO told Cosby.

Cosby thought about what his XO was suggesting then shook his head no. “As much as I want too Number One, we can’t. Before you object think about what that gate means. Without the gate it takes specialized com gear to communicate between systems. That damned thing is our only way of instantaneous communication back to Fleet Command and the rest of the Empire. No, we hold the gate for as long as possible.”

“BUT SIR! WE CAN’T JUST ABANDON THE ONE-OH-FIRST!” The XO screamed.

“We don’t have a choice Number One.” Cosby just glared at his XO. “We either leave the one-oh-first to fight on their own or we surrender the gate to the enemy. Cutting off all contact with the Empire. Those are our choices. I don’t like one damned bit but those are the cold hard facts Number One.”

“At least send one of our fighter squadrons to give air support sir.” The XO argued.

“And just which one should I send Number One? The eighty-eighth with their ten F-four-U Corsairs? The two-nineteenth and their seven F-six-F-four Hellcats? Or better yet why don’t we send the VFA forty-fourth and their four SBD-three Dauntless.” As Admiral Cosby listed the few remaining aerospace fighters and bombers off to his XO the man’s face shows his hopes, of changing the Admiral’s mind, dying. “Let us not forget the little matter of how we get them down to the surface of New Texas. In short Number One give me a plan that will work. Not unattainable militaristic goals. This is not the Hall of Lords!”

“Yes sir. I hadn’t thought it through. I know that our forces have been depleted. I just hadn’t thought that we would ever be forced to leave a Division of Death Dealers to die like this. It just doesn’t sit well with me sir.” As the XO explained and apologized to Cosby, he could only sympathize.

“Trust me Number One, I don’t like it either.” Cosby turned and looked out the forward view screen at his heavily damaged Fleet. “If we had the forces I wouldn’t even be thinking this way. That damned surprise attack caught us totally off guard. Now, the Death Dealers will have to pay the price for our arrogance. Those poor bastards are going to pay that price in blood and bodies bags.”

The XO looked out the forward view screen. “Sir, have you ever heard of an entire Death Dealer Division being wiped out?”

Admiral Cosby dropped his head. “Only twice before, Number One. Each time the deaths of those divisions resulted in the Death Dealer High Command issuing total war orders. When those orders reached the combat troops they gave no quarter.”

Cosby never took his eyes off the view screen. Letting his fears fill his voice. “Have you ever heard the story of how the Death Dealers earned their name and battle cry, Number One?”

“I thought those stories were just that stories?”

“No, my old friend they’re not. Those stories are all truths. Just like every other story that surrounds the bravery of the Death Dealers. They never retreat and never surrender. Once they have been given a planet to hold or conquer they live or die trying to do just that.” Cosby never took his eyes off the view screen and the jump gate framed there. “Right now, I truly pity the poor dumb bastards that have pissed them off on that planet. They have been pushed into a corner. It will take them time to reconstitute their forces, but once that happens all hell is going to break lose on that planet. They will come out of that base like the nightmares of the battlefield they are, raining down death and destruction as they move.”

“I doubt that sir. They may leave the base, but they’ll lack the needed air support to do more than secure another quarter mile of territory. That is all.” The XO was positive that he had his Captain now.

“Want to place ten gold Imperials on that Number One?” The smirk that graced Cosby’s face made the XO stop and think about his answer. For the Admiral to be willing to place that kind of bet was unheard of, let alone with a junior officer.

“No thank you, sir. I only gamble with my life. Never my money.”

“Smart thinking Number One. Too bad though, I was looking forward to collecting.” Cosby knew what he was talking about. He had seen Death Dealers do amazing things. The reports of a Claymore providing the 101st Division with air support would be nothing more than another legend in their very long and storied history.

Command Center, White Sands Research and Development Center, New Texas.

Major General Carol Davenport looked around the assembled officers. Out of the original sixteen division level command officers only three remained. The rest were all Lieutenant Colonels or Majors. Lieutenant General Joseph Mansfield, the former Divisional Command, lay dead on the grounds of the old Division Command Post. Mansfield had personally led the charge that broke the lines of the attacking enemy force. He and most of the Command Staff had fought to the end re-securing the old Divisional TOC with just a handful of Fire Support APSs and three companies of Jump Infantry Troops. Carol had been left with the unenviable task of regrouping the division at the last secure Death Dealer Base on New Texas. A task made all the harder due to the lack of experienced Regimental and Divisional Commanders.

There were only two rays of hope in this whole mess. The first of these hopes was Colonel McManus and his twenty-nine fighter pilots. They may not have their aerospace fighters but those could be replaced thanks to the manufacturing center of the R-n-D center. Not only just replaced but upgraded to the new F-15 Strike Eagles. A few would get the new fighter that Lieutenant Terresa Cole had designed. The final review of the combat footage from her gun cameras had shown just how vastly superior the FB-11 was to anything else flying.

The fact that the airframe was a failed design that was over 700 years old was not lost on the research teams. Nor was the fact the engines were also a discarded design that was as over 200 years old. Everything about the FB-11 was from designs that had been either monumental failures or designs that were discarded for being too costly at the time. Somehow, someway, Terresa Cole had managed to combine all these failed technologies into a powerful and deadly fighter. The likes of which had never been seen before in all of the Empire. The firepower of the fighter was damned near ungodly, and its maneuverability was unparalleled, while the speed of the fighter could only be described as quicksilver lightning. The only problem was finding pilots that could handle flying the Claymore without suffering AI-burnout.

The other ray of hope was the growing resistance among the local land owners. More than fifty different groups had already been identified by her Intelligence Officers. If she could get these resistance cells organized, then they would be a real game changer in the war. Since their very beginning, this was the Death Dealers true calling. Two or three-man teams working deep behind enemy lines turning the local population against the occupying military forces. The reports coming out of the backcountry were encouraging that this type of warfare will succeed. The fact that the locals had more than just light and small arms was even better. They may not have tanks, IFVs, or APSs but they did have light fast attack vehicles. Mostly those FAVs were quarter and half ton ground trucks that had been retro fitted to carry either a heavy machinegun, mortar, antitank missile, or heavy lasers and PPCs. They were small fast and deadly. Then there were the modified sand rail dune buggies. Most of these started out as cattle herding vehicles, now they carried machineguns, pulse plasma lasers, and antitank missiles.

Then there were the ‘snipers’. Carol had to laugh when the Coles just smiled at hearing about the reports of Amazon and mercenary officers being shot and killed by high powered hunting rifles. When Colonel Nakatoma questioned them about their smiles Sylvester just shrugged his shoulders and smirked saying. “Hillbillies and rednecks, never try to take their land. They believe in three things. God, guns, and clan, they got all three. You just don’t show up on their front porch saying that you’re going to take their land. They’re more than likely to bury your ass out back behind their barns than talk or listen to you.”

The most encouraging reports were coming out of the town of Nowhere. The populace of the town had already crippled five of the local merc units. The cities of Long Horn, Six Shooter, and Well Cap were in total unrest. The Amazon divisions may hold the upper hand, but they didn’t hold the cities or the countryside. Everywhere they went they faced boobytraps, IEDs, and every other nasty trick known to man when it comes to warfare. The civilian population of New Texas were coming out of the woodwork in a true gorilla warrior fashion.

Taking the latest reports from her Intelligence Officer Carol just sighed. “Well, people, it looks like we’re on our own for a while.”

“What the hell does that mean General?” Lieutenant Colonel Huasman head of logistics and supply. “We’ve been on our fracking own for the past two damned days.”

“Huasman if you don’t shut your fracking hole I’ll personally shoot you myself.” Prince James snapped before General Davenport could reprimand the man. “I don’t know about the rest of us, but I’ve had enough of your bellyaching.”

“I’ll have your ass up on charges of insubordination, you upstart little shit. The only reason you even have that silver leaf is because of your mothers. This is not the time or the place for little boy royals who want to play soldier. Just sit back, keep your mouth shut, and let the professionals do their jobs.” Lieutenant Colonel Huasman had on more than one occasion made his feelings about royals in the military to those around him and within earshot.

It took all of Sylvester’s control and more than a little more on the part on General Davenport to keep from killing the man. It was a cold hard unforgiving voice that none of them expected to hear that ended all conversation on the matter. Not even General Davenport expected to hear this legendary voice. “Open your yap again Lieutenant Colonel Huasman, and I’ll personally rip your fracking head off and shit down your neck.”

The thick heavy accent let them all know where the man came from without doubt. All eyes had turned to fall on the seven-foot-tall walking mountain in human form. “All I want to know is when are you going to retake New Texas General Davenport. I’ve got four companies of fully trained Jump Infantry ready to go at your command ma’am. You just give the word and my boys will raise mortal hell for our Amazon friends.”

“Command Sergeant Major Southerland it has been a long time. When did you retire?” Davenport asked giving the man a sly smile.

“Five years ago, General. Until a short two years ago, I was happily enjoying that retirement raising cattle.” CSM Southerland was a long-time snuff user and the wad in his lower lip showed he hadn’t given up his one bad habit. This was confirmed by the juice he spit out on the ground. “I saw the writing on the wall and started training my ranch hands as Jump Infantry. They’ve been out training the hands on other ranches in the area. We may be a bunch of militia but we’re well trained.”

“General Davenport I must protest this man’s presence here. He and his men are nothing more than amateurs at best. All they’ll do is drain our already dangerously low supplies. Send him away and let him take the princeling with him. As it is now they are both nothing more than dangerous distractions.” Huasman knew that his argument against Southerland and the Prince would allow him to finally step out from the world of Supply and Quartermaster to prove his worth as a battlefield commander. Something that had been lacking in his personnel jacket.

Finally, Sylvester had had enough. The blow to the back of Huasman’s head was fast and potentially deadly. Had it not been for the Lieutenant Colonel’s training he would have been dead and not just incapacitated. Looking over at General Davenport Sylvester let his anger out with a sigh. “Sorry about that ma’am. I don’t know what you have heard about the man, but he has been a huge pain in the ass for our troop commanders. I’ve had to fight with him to just get the standard combat loadout for my men. I won’t bring up his attitude towards officers that are not High Families.”

“You don’t have to Major Cole. I’ve got more than one report on the man from other Field Commanders. What I want to know is what the hell is the reason for the man’s obsession with sending out partially armed men?” Carol asked of her staff.

“I’ll answer that ma’am.” Prince James said as he stood up. “Just look at his personnel jacket. Thirty-six years and not one Combat Command. He’s been passed over five times for promotion during his career. Once for Captain, then twice for Major, once for LTC and finally the last time for full bird. The only thing that has kept him in is his connects in Parliament.”

Every officer around the room looked over at Prince James, but it was Davenport that put their thoughts into words. “How many others were you sent here to EVAL Lieutenant Colonel Nakatoma? Just the Death Dealer or ALL Imperial military?”

James was on the spot and knew it. “All General Davenport. I had already sent in my report before getting slapped with the reassignment to here. I was supposed to ship out ten-days after sending in my report. We all know how that went.”

The other officers chuckled at James’s joke. More than one of them had heard through the grapevine about his being assigned to the R-n-D Center. More than one of them had sent him sympathy cards for having to put up with scientists that don’t understand the rules of the real world. One had even gone so far to tell him about the scientist that lost control of one experiment that almost destroyed the base. Not all of the officers’ present were laughing though.

“Just how many of us were on the chopping block Lieutenant Colonel? Just those like Huasman? Or are there others that were slated for forced retirement?” One of the few officers who were not laughing asked.

James gave the man a hard look and noticed that his collar tabs marked him as being in the Engineers. He also noticed that the officer was a full Colonel. One of the few in the Center. James put on his most diplomatic smile before answering the Colonel. He was now in full ‘Crown Prince’ mode as he liked to call it. “Sir, that information is no longer of concern. As it stands right now, we all have a much bigger concern. How do we keep this planetary war from becoming a full-blown rebellion across the Empire?”

“Excuse me Colonel, but what do you mean by that? We already have a full-blown insurrection on our hands. Or have you failed to notice the eleven divisions of Amazon forces on New Texas?” Asked a man stand behind CSM Southerland.

Davenport took charge at this point. “Who might you be sir?”

“J.E. Ferguson, Esquire, duly elected Governor for New Texas. Now, who you care to answer my question General?” Everyone in the Command Center just gave the Governor a sideways look then turned back to General Davenport waiting for her to answer.

“No Governor Ferguson, we have not failed to notice the size of our enemy. The only reason we haven’t already started operations to retake the planet is because of their damned size. Let me break the situation down for you in terms that even a dumbass politician like you can understand.” Major General Carol Davenport was pissed and her officers all knew it. “So far, the Amazon Grand Council and Collective has been able to land eleven full divisions with fighter and bomber support. There are another six of their Ogre Class dropships inbound. Each able to carry a full division on their own. With the exception of a small part of the eastern continent they own the skies over New Texas.”

“Damn it, General! I already know this! What I want to know is when is the Empyreal Military going to send in your relief! I don’t need a recap of the situation on my own damned planet!” Ferguson wasn’t going to let these military types stonewall him. He wanted answers and was going to get them now.

“Governor Ferguson, there is no relief force on the way. At least not right now. Over a full third of my division has either been killed, wounded, or captured by the Op-For. I have one, I repeat one, regiment of Armored Power Suits. A regiment that has been cobbled together from the remains of three other regiments. Two tank battalions that are a mix of light and medium tanks with no heavies. A single artillery battalion out of the three I did have. And six Infantry battalions. Two of which are Jump Infantry with no way of delivering them behind enemy lines. Of the other four, only one has IFVs for support, and the last is a pure light Infantry relying solely on FAVs. I have thirty-one fighter pilots and only eighteen aerospace fighters for them to fly. Are you starting to get the drift here Governor?” Davenport finally asked the man in a voice that dripped with sarcasm.

“I see. I did not expect the situation to be so bleak. Is there anything that the citizens of my planet can do to help?” For the first time in his tenure as Governor, James Edward Ferguson, a man named after his ancestor, felt the full weight of his office. Looking over at CSM Southerland. “Skull get the rest of the troops rounded up and rolling. I have a feeling the General will need them.”

“Um… Just how many more militia troops do you have under arms Governor?” Prince James asked from behind him.

“Two battalions of mobile light Infantry, two battalions of armored Infantry, four battalions of medium armor, three battalions of artillery, one squadron of ground attack helos and one squadron transport helos. That is the total of our forces, General Davenport.” As Ferguson listed off the units that made up the New Texas militia the gathered officers were stunned.

“Goddess! How in the world did you get all of that planet side undetected?” Lieutenant Colonel Higgins asked. “You have a full two divisions worth of material.”

Command Sergeant Major Southerland chuckled. “We saw the writing on the walls two years ago Colonel Higgins. We started smuggling in the needed supplies and weapons back then. For the heavier stuff the dropships landed in the Franklin Mountain Range and was moved from there to staging points all across the planet.”

“Sergeant Major, how long for your troops to organize and move into attack positions?” Davenport asked hopefully.

“Too long to do any good with the current situation ma’am.” Southerland let the regret over this fact fill his voice. “Just about our entire Command Staff was rounded up in the ‘antiterrorist’ sweeps by the Amazons. We’re trying to come up with a plan for their extraction as we speak.”

“Where are they being held Sergeant Major?” James asked quickly.

“Camron Maximum Security Prison, outside Chino in El Paso County.” Ferguson answered for the New Texas Contingent. “Unless we can get air lift and cover for any breakout plan they’re all just so much wishing.”

“Why’s that sir?” Sylvester asked for those gathered.

“The prison sits atop a nine-thousand-foot tall rock formation in the middle of a flat desert plain. All approaches are covered by a battery of watchtowers armed with twin-pulse two-twenty-millimeter laser cannons. Each is radar and lidar guided and targeted. Nothing gets past them without the proper clearances. That is just the ground-based defenses. The antiair defenses are just as formidable if not more so. Each prison wall-tower is armed with a two thirty-millimeter Gatlin antiaircraft cannons. Again, with radar/lidar tracking and targeting.” Southerland explained. “Now do you see why our escape plans need air support?”

“What you need is precision high-altitude bombing, Sergeant Major. Which is something that we cannot give you at this time.” Colonel McManus told him and Ferguson hotly. “Hell, we can’t even give you carpet bombing.”

“What about using those Mark eight Air-to-Ground missiles? Wouldn’t they do the job?” Ferguson asked not wanting to give up on their escape plans for the militia commanders. He felt that should be their priority.

“Do you want your people out of there alive or dead?” McManus asked coldly.

“I don’t understand.” Ferguson answered truthfully.

“The Mark eight Hawk air-to-ground missile is a precision weapon true. The downside of using them is the size of their warhead.” McManus began his explanations by pulling up the known layout for the prison. “None of the wall towers are far enough away from the prison itself to prevent collateral damage. Each Hawk carries a six-hundred-pound warhead of high-explosive. The blast from just one of those missiles will bring down whole sections of the prison. Now, do you see why those are off the table? That is unless you want your people dead for some reason.”

“So, what do we do for now?” Ferguson asked in defeat. His dreams of leading the charge to retake his planet dying before his very eyes. “We just can’t sit here and wait for the River-sluts to attack us here.”

“We’re not going to wait for them to come to us.” General Davenport snarled. “We are Death Dealers. We never retreat, we never surrender, and above all, we never quit. We may be on the ropes now, but not for long. We’ll come off the ropes we’ll be swinging the whole damned time. Make no mistake about that, Ferguson.”

“When will that be? Just how long are you going to wait, General? It’s MY people out there right now that are dying.” Ferguson demanded.

“The moment that MY people can get to YOUR people.” The smile that came to Davenport’s lips was pure predatory. “This is OUR type of war NOW.”

Tent for Lieutenant Terresa Cole.

I couldn’t believe the bullshit that has been coming down the line. On second thought, yeah, I could. I’ve flown eight escort sorties in the last two days. The most depressing mission for me was the evac flights from the old division command post. After all I did to help save that base, in the end it had been for nothing. The Amazons were still able to drive us out of our bases. The only one we’ve been able to hold on to is WSRDC. Even with me and the others flying escort we still had casualties among the transports. Oh, they all made it WSRDC but five would never fly again. Of the nine heavy-lift A-400 Atlas’ all but two had not sustained damage during the evacuation operations. Chief Daily and the other Warrant Officers were doing their best to get the ones they can repaired.

I look up from my journal and stretch. “Damn I can’t believe I lost track of the time like that. I can’t believe that it’s almost chow time.”

As I leave my tent I realize that I’m not as jumpy about my appearance any more. Then again, most of the people around here have heard about my missions. That and the fact that I currently have one of the highest victory counts of a serving member of the military. The six new stars and one more gold star for a second ship kill people were starting to look at me in wonder not hate. I look over at the nose of my Claymore at the three rows of ten, one row of six, of solid red stars. Off to one side the two gold stars stood out from the rest. There was the story of my career for the whole world to see.

Reaching into my BDU shirt pocket I pull out a pack of Winchester Blacks. After taking one out and lighting up I head for the mess-hall tent. That was one missile hit that pissed everyone off. The loss of the dining facility was enough to make even the lowliest of soldiers and technicians angry. “At least the cooks got out before the hammer fell.”

“Talking to yourself again Lt?” Terresa no longer jumped at the voice of her Crew Chief. “I keep telling you that is the first sign of going crazy.” Terresa chuckled as the big man walked around the nose of her fighter to look her in the face. “I was getting ready to come see if you had gone to chow yet?”

“On my way there now, Chief Daily.” Terresa had really come to like the much older officer. “Care to join me or does the Witch need her lover more?”

It was already a well-known fact that Chief Warrant Office Lucky Daily had fallen in love with my bird as much as I had. I’ve already had to save one overly curious designer from getting too close to the Witch. The massive Chief Warrant Office had a rather heavy torque wrench in his hands as he explained in explicit detail what he would do to the man if he laid a hand on his baby. I may be the pilot for the Silver Eyed Witch, but she was Chief Daily’s little girl and woe be to any who hurt her. The fact that I brought her back with a few laser and PPC burns, not to mention some AC hits had not endeared me with the big man at times.

“Sure, I could go for something to eat right now.” Daily answered with a smile at my joke. “The boys can finish up with the repairs from your last little go around with the Test Tube Sluts.”

“Chief you know how the DCO feels about people using that term.” I reprimanded the man before we leave the area of my tent and bunker.

“Ma’am, I may not be politically correct, but the brass can kiss my ass for it.” Daily snarled as we walked across the bass. “They’re not having to patch up our birds with duct tape, bailing wire, and chewing gum, while trying to squeeze more aircraft out of manufacturing center.”

“I didn’t know it was that bad Chief. Is there anything I can do to help out?” I know that he has been pushing his crew, but I wondered for the first time about the other ground crews. “I know that I’ve been putting a lot of hours on the Witch.”

“Naw, Lt. It’s not your fault. We both know that you do your damnedest to bring her back in one piece every time. There are going to be times that doesn’t happen. We both know that luck plays as big a part in combat as skill does. What was it that ancient French General said about one of his commanders?”

“You mean Napoléon. The quote you’re looking for is ‘I know he is a good tactician but is he lucky?’. That isn’t exactly the truth, but he was credited for saying it.” I answered him off the top of my head. “The closest thing he ever said along those lines was ‘The greatest general is the who makes the fewest mistakes.”

“Damn Lt you really know your ancient history.” Chief Daily really was impressed by my quoting that ancient General. “I take it that you want to do something else when you get out of the service. Maybe teaching?”

“Teaching is not really my thing Chief. What I would love to do is study the ancient battlefields of Earth Prime. I want to go into Battlefield Archaeology. Too many of our historical sites were wiped out just to build a damned high-rise apartment complex or to ease the political tensions of some Political Correctness Movement. I want to try and find those lost battlefields. So that they’re not forgotten.” I let my passion for those forgotten battles fill my voice as we walked.

“Wow, Lt I never thought about doing something like that.” Chief Daily gave me a lopsided smile just as we passed two Regular Infantry Death Dealers. Both men just smirked at the two of us. I as much as I wanted to pound them for their smirking I couldn’t. They were just being typical G.I.s. Now, Chief Daily on the other hand could say something. “AND just what are you two GRUNTS staring at?!”

When they didn’t answer right away Chief Daily got right up in their faces. “If I EVEN get a HINT that you two monkey nuts have been dishing about the Lt and me being a couple. I’ll have your sorry asses scrubbing my Flight Line with toothbrushes. Do you hear me TROOPERS?”

“Sir, yes Sir!” With that the two Infantry men hauled ass to get away from the two of us. I almost laughed at the speed of their departure.

“Come on Chief. I’m hungry and the chow hall closes in twenty minutes. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like having cold or heated C-rats.” Chuckling at the big man’s handling of the two men.

“Coming ma’am.” Daily grumbled. “Sorry about that, I know that you’re trying to blend in and all, but those two knuckle heads were down right disrespectful.”

“Oh, I know Chief. Trust me, I know.” I just sigh as we enter the chow hall. “The problem is I get into trouble if I correct some of the attitudes of our troops around here.”

“Lt there is correcting an attitude and there is correcting an attitude.” Chief Daily chuckled as he remembered the last time I corrected someone’s attitude. “You just have to remember that broken bones don’t always correct an attitude.”

“Shit Chief I only did that once.” I griped. Unfortunately, my gripping looked more like pouting. “Besides, the Base CO gave me permission to pound on that bartender.”

Chief Daily just laughed as we got in line. After about fifteen minutes we were sitting down at one of the tables inside the general purpose large tents that was being use as the chow hall. Like most GP large tent this one was fifty-feet long and thirty-feet wide. It was one of three such tents that had been setup for use by the mess-hall staff and cooks. Even as we took our seats, the food line was thinning out as the last of the officers on base came in to get something to eat.

“Is this seat taken?” The voice caught me off guard. I had not heard the person’s voice in more than two years. The fact that they are here now was not good. I turn in my seat and look up into a face that I know all too well.

“Hi mom. When did you arrive?”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 12
White Sands Reach and Development Center.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Standing there behind me was my mother. The one person that I really didn’t want on New Texas right now. I could tell by the look on her face the way her BDU’s were wrinkled that she was not in a good mood. The other indicator of her fowl mood was the half-gallon coffee mug in her hand. It was the one I got her when she made full Colonel. Across the front of it read H.B.I.C. in big bold red letters. I always got a laugh out of her using that mug in her office. It was her way of reminding certain officers that she was the one in charge.

“I am not the one that will be answering questions here Lieutenant. Oh no, that honor is all yours.” The glare my mother gave me said it all.

“Yes ma’am, Colonel.” I just gulped and wave for her to sit down. “Please have a seat ma’am. This is Chief Warrant Officer Daily, my Flight Crew Chief.”

Andria reached over and shook Daily’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you Chief. Has the Lieutenant been giving you any trouble?”

“None at all ma’am. Except for when she brings my baby back with laser burns, PPCs welts, and autocannon holes.” Chief gave my mother a sly smile as he chuckled at my embarrassment when he saw the look she gave me at hearing this.

“Would you say that the Lieutenant has been pushing herself out there Chief?” the look my mother gave Chief Daily was the one that had sent more than one Field Grade Officer running for the hills.

Chief Lucky Daily could tell right away that Colonel Cole was no longer joking around. “No ma’am. The Lt has not been pushing herself. If anything, she has been doing everything in her power to keep from doing just that.”

“So, you do not consider eight combat missions in sixty hours as not pushing it? Just what would you consider pushing it, Chief Daily?” Yeah, my mother was pissed.

“No ma’am I would not. Not when those missions have saved lives.” Chief Daily told her honestly. “Right now, the only bird we got that has the legs to support those evac missions is the FB-eleven. And the only pilot we got that can handle her is Lieutenant Cole. In short ma’am, unless you or one of the other sawbones around here can figure out how to give us more pilots like your daughter then us producing more Claymores is pointless.”

“Excuse me Chief Daily, but I don’t understand. Shouldn’t the Death Dealer pilots be able to handle a FB-eleven just as well as my daughter?”

This time I sighed. Keeping my voice just above a whisper. “Mom, the last Death Dealer pilot that tried to fly a Claymore ended up with AI-burnout.”

The shock was clear as day on my mother’s face. “How? No, let me correct that. Why? Why did that happen?”

“I can answer that Colonel.” Chief Daily picked up where I had left off. “The Claymore is unlike any other fighter flying. For starters, they’re faster. By that I mean magnitudes faster. Not only can they out run any fighter flying, they can also out maneuver every other fighter. It takes someone like your daughter, who is just as special, to handle one. The input for combat is twice to three times that of a normal fighter. In short, it takes an AI just to handle flight operations and a pilot that can multitask on the same level as your daughter.”

My mother leaned in close to Chief Daily. “Are you saying that the only reason Terresa can pilot that aircraft is her H.H.S.S.?”

“Yes ma’am. That is exactly what I am saying.” Daily looked around the chow hall before continuing. “I looked in the Lt’s records when she first got here. I wanted to know why she was assigned a test pilot duty. Pilots with her kind of combat record don’t get stuck with test flights. I saw the notations. It took me a few days of digging but I figured out each notation and what they mean.”

“Does anybody else know what you know Chief?” I demanded.

“Relax, ma’am. Your secrets are safe. I had an old friend of mine in Personnel scrub all references towards your old self from your records.” The wink Chief Daily tossed me relaxed me more than his words.

I knew that he would never hurt me or let someone else. To him I was more than just an officer for some reason. Keeping my voice just above a whisper. “Look mom if you want more information on this, you’re going to have to talk with Sylvia.”

“Alright, why?” Mom asked then gave me a flat look. “And why are we whispering?”

I wanted to just face palm at that point. “Mom this information is still classified. Until I get the okay from Colonel Nakatoma we’re not supposed to talk to anybody about it. Only Sylvia knowns about the pilot, and the AI burnout.”

It took my mother a few seconds to realize what I just said. “Oh hell! How bad was the burnout? And did he crash the fighter?”

“The burnout was bad enough that he has been hospitalized for the last two days. The only good part was it happened in a simulator not in an actual fighter.” Chief Daily told her while still keeping his voice down.

“Okay let me get this straight, Chief.” My mother started off. “We have an aerospace fighter that can only be flown by my daughter. A fighter so powerful that it could very well be one of the deciding factors in this war. To date a fighter that has destroyed more enemy aircraft than any other fighter at our disposal. Have I summed things up adequately?”

“You only missed one thing mom.” I said sadly. “Until you or some other doctor can figure out how to make more Death Dealers like me. Any pilot we put in a Claymore is going to be on a one-way trip.”

Before my mother could say or ask more we were joined by seven more people in BDU’s. Lilly gave me their names and ranks before they had even asked to sit down. The ranking officer, a major, asked my mother. “Excuse us Colonel, but may we join you and your party?”

“Certainly, Major Howard. Do you mind Lieutenant, Chief?” mom asked us both. We both just smiled and moved down the benches to make room for the new comers. As they sat down mom introduced them to us. “Lieutenant Cole, Chief Daily, allow me to introduce my staff.”

When I heard this, I stopped my mom. “Excuse me, ma’am, but did you say staff? As in your medical staff? Did you get recalled mom?”

I think it was the mom that gave me away or it could have been the last name, but Major Howard held out his hand to one of the three captains. “Pay up Mike. I told you that we would find the CO with her daughter.”

I watched as a five-note bill was handed over to the major. “You know something David one of these days you’re going to be wrong about a bet.”

“Not so long as it revolves around human nature, Mike.” Major Howard pointed out. As the rest took their seats my mother just sighed and gave me a sour look.

“Sorry, ma’am.” I dropped my head in embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Terresa. It would have happened sooner or later.” Mom gave me a forgiving look then pointed to the others. “As for your questions, yes these are my medical staff, and yes I was recalled.”

“Wait I thought that you couldn’t be recalled.” I said in shock.

“Under normal circumstances that would be true.” Looking around the tent and the surrounding compound mom gave me a lopsided grin. “These are not normal circumstances though. Are they?”

“No ma’am. There not.” I chuckled. “So how is it you are even in system? Shouldn’t you have been stopped before your last jump?”

“I still have a few friends in uniform, dear. I was able to get a ride on board the dropship that delivered this MASH unit.” Looking over at the five medical officers she smiled. “We spent the last two days working our way here from the Franklin Mountains. We must have taken every back route, and goat path through those god forsaken mountains. They lost their Commanding Officer during the first night to an air raid attack.”

“Excuse me ma’am. But I think I need to tell the rest of the tale.” The second major put in just before introducing himself. “Oh, I’m Major Jacob Swift, Chief Surgeon, and Thoracic Specialist. Our old CO was in the last T-nine-eighty Goliath Heavy transport unit when a AH-nine-five-T ground attack chopper dropped over the ridge line to our rear. The helo got off four Mark sevens before our rear guard shot him down. Unfortunately, those missiles hit Lieutenant Colonel Higgin’s T-nine-eighty. The crew and passengers were all killed in the attack.”

“That’s when I came into the picture. They needed a CO, and it was an emergency. My recall protocols kicked in and I took command as the ranking officer.” Mom explained for me and the Chief. Not that she needed to, I had already figured out what had happened. And how she came to be in command of the MASH unit. I had already figured that something like what Swift said had happened.

“How many of your Goliaths made it, ma’am?” Chief Daily asked of my mother.

“We only lost the one thankfully Chief. The down part of that is that Goliath carried our reserve supplies.” One of the captains answered before introducing herself. “Captain Jessica Haze, Chief of Nurses.”

I looked over at the other two captains and the last major. “I take it that make you three are the rest of the surgical staff?”

“Captain J.J. Thorn, Orthopedics and general surgery.” The taller of the two captains answered first.

“Captain Mike Hues, general trauma surgent. Like my partner in crime here we’re not your normal military docs. We were kind of drafted.” The second captain said. Not that I needed the explanation. I could already tell these two were not regular military by the way they dressed. BDUs wrinkled, shirts unbuttoned, and pants not bloused. Everything about them screamed World Health Organization. They were real life Doctor WHO’s. “We came in with the MASH to help out the locals.”

“I guess that just leaves me. Major Steve Blackwell, the teams neural surgeon, and unit XO. Personally, Lieutenant Cole, I’m glad as all hell your mother was on that flight. When that helo attacked she just took command and had us moving in hours. I had no clue as to where to go or what to do. I’m a doctor. I got my commission and rank thanks to my specialty pure and simple. My command course lasted ninety days and some joker with a General’s star said I was now an officer and gentleman.”

I almost spit coffee hearing this last part. I had never heard of an Officer in the Empyreal military treat their commission with such triviality before. I looked at all five of my mother’s Staff. I could tell right away that they were the type she would have picked if she had been given time to form her own unit. None of them were what you would call ‘regular army’ but damned fine doctors. I was saved from any more embarrassing moments by the arrival of Sylvester and Sylvia just then.

“Excuse us Colonel Cole, but may we join your table?” Sylvia asked with a mile-wide smile. Before setting down her tray and wrapping mom in a hug. “Damn glad to see that you made it mom.”

My mother just turned and hugged Sylvia. “You’re not the only one dear. Sylvester, put that tray down give me a hug.”

Sylvester did as mom ordered, then smiled stepping back. “Good to see you too mom. Sorry about that helo attack. We thought that route was still in friendly hands.”

“Wait! You two knew that mom was here ALREADY?!” I was pissed. “Just when were you going to let me in on her arrival?”

“Oh, sometime around ten minutes after she chewed your ass out for NOT showing up for your flight evals.” Sylvia said straight faced.

“And just when has she had the FRACKING TIME MAJOR?!” Chief Daily came quickly to my rescue. “Eight, I repeat, EIGHT escort missions in the last two damned days. The shortest of which was five hours in duration. The longest seven hours on the stick.”

“At ease Chief Warrant Officer Daily.” Sylvester snapped. Only to have me coming to Daily’s rescue this time.

“No Major. You at ease. Both you and the other Major Cole are WAY out of line here. Both me and the other pilots on this base have been flying unstop missions from day one of this mess. None of us have had time for your bullshit flight evals.” I was pissed and sick of the medicos not having any answers to my questions. “You want to help sis? Pull your head out of your ass and figure out how to get us twenty-five more Claymore Death Dealers. Until then back the frack off.”

With that I turned to Chief Daily. “Come on Chief I got a sortie in the morning.”

“Calm down Lieutenant Cole.” His voice was not one that I wanted to hear just then. It didn’t matter that he was now the CO for the base security force and the Crown Prince. No, it was what the sound of his voice did to me.

‘Damn Terresa, the Prince is really starting to get to you.’ Lilly giggled.

‘Oh, shut up already, Lilly. What I can’t figure out is why he affects me this way.’

‘Terresa, when are you going to accept the fact that you’re a young woman now? A young woman with the hormones that goes with being a woman your age.’

‘Lilly just what the hell does that have to do with the way that Prince James makes me feel? I never looked at men the way I do now. I mean sexually damn it. Frack I look at the women around base and they do nothing for me anymore. What the hell is going on with me Lilly?’

‘I told you already Terresa. You were a heterosexual male before the Secondary-Configuration. Now, you’re a healthy female, with a very strong heterosexual sex drive now. What you’re feeling is horny or love. I’m not sure which.’

I decided to ignore Lilly for now. I had a more pressing problem on my hands. Prince James was introducing himself to my mother. “Good to have you with us finally Colonel Cole. We weren’t expecting your unit until later tonight.”

“We cleared the foothills faster than predicted. Just after zero-four-twenty this morning. We cleared the outer sand dunes just before zero-nine. My people should have the Goliaths setup for operation by no later then twenty-hundred this evening.” I couldn’t believe the way mom was talking. Then again, she had already served twenty years as a Field Medical Officer and her last assignment was as a MASH CO.

“Tell me something Colonel Cole does Lieutenant Cole pass her flight eval?” Prince James asked her quickly.

“I’ll leave that up to Major Howard. He’s our psychologist.” She turned to Howard and smiled. “Well David what do you think?”

I knew then and there that mom had setup this whole mess. Just to see my reactions and let her shrink observe me in a natural backdrop. The conniving bitch. “As far as I’m concerned the Lieutenant can continue to fly. So long as she is willing to see me once a week for no less than one hour.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” I was almost pouting but if I wanted to fly I had to play their damned games. “Come on Chief. I hear a twelve-pack calling our names.”

Chief Daily just smiled and followed me out of the mess tent. If I had stuck around I would have heard something that would have had me blushing clear down to my toes. “I have to say Colonel; your youngest daughter is quiet the lovely hellion.”

“Major Blackwell you have no idea of how big a hellion my little sister is. I’m just surprise she didn’t take my head off when I corned her.” Sylvia answered him.

“I highly doubt that she would have taken things too far, Major Cole. The young Lieutenant just needs an outlet for her frustration.” Blackwell said dismissively.

“Major Blackwell, let me give you some advice when it comes to Lieutenant Terresa Cole.” Prince James quickly put in. “Don’t piss her off for starters. The last person to do that ended up hurt, hurt badly. Secondly, whatever you do, do not under any circumstances tell that little lady she needs to get LAID.”

The facepalm that came fast and furious from Andria Cole was accompanied by a heavy deep groan of pain. “WHICH dumbass told her that?”

“Relax mom. That dumbass is no longer on the base or even this planet if he is still lucky. My CO made sure of that in more ways than one.” Sylvia smirked at the look of pain that filled Major Blackwell’s face at the way the conversation had been progressing. Sylvia could tell that he had more than a little working knowledge concerning her sister’s medical background.

“That stupid ass just had to be his usual pompous self.” Blackwell sighed out.

“I take it that you know the doctor in question, Major Blackwell.” Prince James said with a knowing smile. “How would you proceed in the treatment of the Lieutenant? Our last psychologist was less than um… how should I put this… professional.”

“Your last headshrinker was a true quack Colonel Nakatoma. One that needs to have his license pulled. Trust me when I say Freud was doing everything in his power to prove his ancestor’s theories as being correct.” Blackwell just sighed. “I heard about how more than few of his former patients have filed legal complaints against him. Some going so far as to threaten malpractice.”

“Then thank the powers that be, that Terresa didn’t kill the man outright.” Andria commented, only to have James, Sylvester, and Sylvia sigh at first then start laughing. “Okay who did she put in the hospital?”

“Just a racist piece of Amazon spy trash.” James answered with a smile. “She really did a number on the jackass.” Then just barely over a whisper. “I just wish I knew what I did to get on her bad side.”

Andria Cole gave the young prince a sideways look at hearing the last part. She could tell that the young man was smitten with her newest and youngest daughter. Also, most likely the deadliest of her children. She could tell that she would have to take the young man off to one side and have a long talk with him about Terresa. Most especially about his intentions towards her.

Amazon Command, Bella Rosh, New Texas

Supreme Commander Victor Von Bencher, stormed through the hallways of his command post. The late evening call from his XO was not one he wanted. The uprising among the locals was getting out of hand. His eighth division command post along with the entire divisional command staff had been blown sky high by a truck bomb. These terrorist attacks on his people were already getting out of hand. Especially in Well Cap. Long Horn and Six Shooter were not much better off. In the past two days he had lost close too to nineteen soldiers to boobytraps and IDEs. Now, this direct attack on a divisional command post by a suicide bomber.

An attack that would have far reaching consequences for his plans of conquest. Even now, in less than sixty hours following the successes of that first day, his soldiers feared going into the backcountry. Nine full mercenary units had been wiped out to the last man and woman. One unit’s APS pilots had been decapitated and their bloody heads set on stakes in front of their APSs. Every part of Flight Leader Emily Calisto’s plan had gone to perfection, with the exception of two points.

The first being the survival of the White Sands Research Center. Those F-1E5 Strike Eagles were far deadlier than they were reported to be. Just three of those formidable fighters had turned back the attack on the base. That one failed attack wouldn’t have had a great impact on the overall plan if not for the second failed attack. The most important of the two. The failed attack on the Death Dealer Divisional Command Post had giving those deadly men and women the chance to regroup. Von Bencher knew that they were the ones behind the organization of the local terrorist cells. Unlike his fellow Amazon military leaders Von Bencher knew how the Death Dealers got their name, and all about their very unconventional training.

What worried Von Bencher more than anything else was the fact they had no real Intelligence on how many of those deadly fighters survived. He knew that a single battalion of Jump Infantry would raise mortal hell with any plans they could formulate. A brigade would be deadly in any operation. A division, a death note, for his command. No matter where he placed them on the planet. The tales of one division turning the tide of war on whole planets in the War of Succession were true. He saw this first hand in the Cascades System. A Death Dealer Division with air support. His command didn’t stand a chance in hell once they got moving.

As Von Bencher entered the Command Center he was greeted by pandemonium. Everywhere he looked his command staff were busy trying to organize the chaos. All to no avail. He knew that these pampered members of the High-Born Class had never faced such disorder in their lives. Of them all only Von Bencher had ever faced the true chaos of unlimited warfare. There was no honor in this type of warfare. No glory to be had. In the end there would be no true victory for the Amazons. Something that only Von Bencher had seen from the very beginning. He knew that the only way to truly win was a genocidal warfare. Something that would bring down the full weight of the Imperial Military on the heads of the Amazon Collective.

All of his and his fellow Supreme Commanders, had warned the High Council and Grand Council of using military force to forward their agenda. Their warnings had fallen on deaf ears. The hot blooded young members of the Grand Council were tired of waiting for the Hall of Judges to rule in the favor of the mine owners. In truth only one of the Supreme Commanders supported the use of the Amazon Military. Carl Blücher of the Manaus Mining Blüchers. The man refused to see the danger of facing off against the Imperial Military in all their terrifying fury.

The last person to face that fury was now nothing more than radioactive dust, and his fifteen of his most loyal followers. The rest had been locked forever in their multilayer white ceramic rigid full body mummy stocks. They had been sentenced to spend the rest of their natural lives as High Priest Controllers. That had been over thirty years ago, and those High Priest Controllers were still alive. At last report they were all good health and could expect to live for another fifty to sixty years if not longer. The Empress had scientists working to make that particular punishment last for more than just the few years it used to. Just for those criminals.

The two foreign nations that had helped the Temple of Holy Light had also paid a very heavy price. For the Velmaro Consortium the loss of more than half of their military might and several vital planets to seven-forty Core Crackers had set them back more than fifteen decades. The Gorgonzola Empire hadn’t fared much better. Something that the Grand Council failed to see was the danger that the Empress herself represented. He knew of her reputation and it was well deserved. Just as the reputation of her oldest son and the people who commanded the division he now served with. The 101st Death Dealer Division was not to be taken lightly.

Looking at the chaos that now reigned in his Command Center he thought about that very reputation. He knew that there was no way to regain the momentum they once had two days ago. That was lost to them. His worse nightmare had come true. Somehow the remnants of the 101st had reformed and were even now exerting their influence. When his XO walked up to him the man had a fearful look in his eyes.

“Report.” The one-word order was all Von Bencher said.

“Sir, it is as bad as you predicted. The city of Well Cap is in full riot. Our forces there are being forced to abandon their positions as we speak. Long Horn and Six Shooter are not far behind. Huston Spaceport was attacked less than twenty minutes ago by a pair of suicide truck bombers. One destroyed the control tower. The other was able to disable the radar/lidar station to the point it will take several days to repair. Repair with parts we do not have sir.” Von Bencher’s XO sighed heavily before continuing with his report. “Our supply convoy was attacked by a flight of ground attack helicopters last night. None of the transports made it through the attack. All of our supplies were destroyed in transit.”

“What’s the situation in Bar Harbor, Pecos, and Reo Grand?”

“We still hold those three cities sir. Thanks to the efforts of Battalion Commander White. His antiterrorist sweeps have rounded up and executed thirty known terrorists and anti-Collective rabble rousers.” Von Bencher’s XO gave him a look that Von Bencher didn’t like. “Sir, I know that you believe Battalion Commander White’s methods shouldn’t be used. But he is getting results. I believe that we make an example of one of the uprising cities it will put a stop to this rebellion, sir.”

“And just how would you make such an example Sub Commander Rice?” Von Bencher let his anger fill his voice, but know the man was too stupid to hear the warning. He was right when Rice outlined his idea for ‘teaching’ the locals a lesson.

“Since we are being forced to abandon Well Cap that is the city. We pull our people out. Then once they are clear send a flight of heavy bombers and carpet bomb the city. We level the whole of it, from one end to the other. Then there is the option. One heavy bomber carrying a tactical thermonuclear bomb. Of the two the second would be the most cost effective and deliver the needed lesson.” Von Bencher wanted to strangle his XO over both plans but knew that right now his position as Supreme Commander was precarious at best.

If he failed to act against the rebels, then the High Council would remove him. They would replace him with someone that would take the measures that Rice was proposing. Most likely Rice himself. Von Bencher decided that he would have to do something that would show the High Council’s man that he was set on following their plans to the end. He just needed to figure out how to make it look like the New Texans set off the nukes. As the plan formed in his head he let a small smile play across his lips, one that never reached his eyes.

“Sub Commander Rice, send the following orders to Well Cap, Long Horn, Six Shooter, and Pecos. Commanders you are to withdraw your forces to the far northern edge of town. There you will be meet by a relief force. Begin your withdrawal no earlier than twenty-six-hundred and no later than twenty-eight-hundred. Now make sure that you receive an authentication reply XO.” Von Bencher just knew that the man would do as he was ordered thinking that one of his two suggestions was being carried out. “Contact Sub Commander Diesel over at Bomber Command and have him report to my private office in the next hour.”

“Yes sir. May I ask which of the four cities will be the target for being made the example?” Rice just knew that Von Bencher won’t destroy all four.

“All of them.” With that Von Bencher turned and walked out of the Command Center to the stunned and shocked looks of his command staff. He knew that his plan would either end the war now or send it into a whole new phase. One that he hoped didn’t come. Because if it did happen then he and all of the Amazon Collective were facing the end of their days.

A little more than twenty minutes later Sub Commander Diesel stood in Von Bencher’s private office. “Sub Commander Diesel, which of our bombers can carry a nuclear weapon? And which crews are the most trust worthy?”

“Of the bomber class aerospace craft on planet only the four-thirty-first bomber wing. With their YB-thirty-eight heavy bombers, they are the only ones with the mission capabilities to carry nuclear weapons sir. As for which are the most trust worthy of those flight crews take your pick. To be a member of the four-thirty-first each soldier must first undergo heavy psychological and loyalty conditioning. The drones of that wing suicide if put under any type of questioning concerning their missions. Even from their family units. You want them to nuke a city full of religious and historical significance they’ll just ask you when you want the bomb delivered. They don’t care who or what their target is, sir.”

“Good, this is what I want. Four bomb targets, two bombs apiece, all attacks to take place at twenty-five-hundred. Can this be done?”

Von Bencher waited as Diesel thought over the requirements of the mission. Finally, the man nodded his head after a few moments. “Yes sir, it can be done. It’ll be tight time line, but the four-thirty-first will get the job done on time. Targets?”

Von Bencher just handed over a list of the four cities he had just sentenced to death by nuclear fire. “One more thing Sub Commander. Those bombers carry only six-sixty Minuteman Warheads. Understood? I want those cities leveled.”

Diesel didn’t even blink an eye at the order to use 660 Minuteman Warhead nuclear bombs. “Sir, like that old saying goes. When you really care. Be sure to send only the best Minuteman Florist at your service.”

Von Bencher saluted Diesel. “Carry out your orders Sub Commander.” Diesel returned the salute and left. Von Bencher picked up his desk phone. It was long before the other end was answered. “This is Supreme Commander Von Bencher, have Flight Leader Calisto report to me in one half hour.” Von Bencher didn’t wait for his order to be recognized before hanging up.

While he waited Von Bencher pulled up the specs for the YB-35. He was surprised to see that the YB-35 was the venerable Flying Wing. The design was flawless in most regards and had a power to weight ratio that was astonishing. The only other bomber that had the kind of p-t-w and staying power was the B-36 Peacemaker. Unfortunately, his force lacked those very powerful bombers.

When Emily Calisto walked through his office door Von Bencher knew he had the person to complete his plan. “Flight Leader Calisto, in a few hours eight YB-thirty-five bombers will be taking off for a bombing mission. You and your flight will be escorting them. Once their mission is done you are to shoot them down leaving no survivors. Do you understand your orders?”

“Sir yes sir. No survivors. Leave nothing behind to incriminate this command. I take it that my own pilots are expendable as well?” Emily had been given orders along these lines before. She knew that the Supreme Commander want no witnesses to his war crimes or those of this command.

“Precisely Flight Leader. No witnesses. Do you have a problem with your orders?”

“None sir.” Emily gave the Supreme Commander a salute and left his offices.

“That is one cold hearted he/bitch. I pity whoever her family marries her off to.” Von Bencher sighed then turned to look out the window of his office. “Then again we have always had problems with the Hermaphrodites. They make great fighter and single seat aerospace pilots but for anything else they are basically worthless. We really need to find a replacement for them.”

Picking up a report he had received from their spy in the Medical unit at White Sands. Von Bencher reread the part concerning the Claymore pilot. There was something about this pilot that could very well be the answer to their problems concerning the pilot sub-class.

“We need to get our hands on that pilot. The problem is how.” Von Bencher’s words filled the empty air of his office. He was known for talking to himself during times of stress or when faced with an insurmountable problem.

White Sands Research and Development Center. 2730

Prince James Nakatoma walked the outer battle emplacements wondering when the next attack would come. They have been able to push back the two direct attacks on the Center with minimal losses. Only the very first attack, the surprise attack on the first day had resulted in any heavy losses. The one thing he knew for a fact was if not for the efforts of Flight Lieutenant First Class Terresa Cole things would have been a lot worse. The smile that came to his lips as he thought about that very interesting young woman was one he didn’t want his mothers to see, ever.

James looked towards the western horizon and noticed the first of New Texas’s moons slowly rising. As the smallest of the three moons shown down on the white gypsum sands of the Franklin Desert James spotted a lone figure off in the distance. The long white hair and slim petite figure gave James the identity of the person before he even got close to her. In the shadowy ghost like light cast by the small full moon James had to catch his breath at the sight of her.

‘James I must say the Lieutenant is far more beautiful than your sisters.’

‘Stephen, old boy, you just said a mouthful. If I didn’t know better I would swear that I was looking at an apparition of the Twin Goddesses. Just look at her.’ James truly was smitten with the beautiful Claymore. ‘I just wonder if grandmother would have problems with me marrying outside of the High Families.’

‘I highly doubt that James. After all, First High Lord of the Death Dealers James J. Owens was a commoner. As was your mother Alice. Both of whom your grandmother Dai Etsu knows extremely well. From what I have gathered she respected them both equally. I believe that your grandmother will find the young lady quite charming.’

James thought about what Stephen told him as he approached Terresa slowly. She was brash, at times extremely uncouth, yet there was always an air of vulnerability about her that just drew him to her. Much like a moth to the flame. Until now he had yet to have a chance to talk with her in a private setting. As he walked closer she heard his footsteps in the sands. As Terresa turned to face him, James was forced to stop dead in his tracks. In the pale light of the full moon Terresa’s natural beauty took on an unearthly quality that struck James dumb.

“Good evening, Colonel.” Terresa said with a smile. The smile brought a whole new level of beauty that James was unprepared for. “Enjoying the air, sir?”

Coughing to coverup his lackluster start James returned the smile. “Good evening Lieutenant. Yes, I was just out for a bit of free air as it were. Then again you know that I walk the battlements nightly. What brings you out here on such a beautiful night like this?”

“I couldn’t sleep, sir. Then again I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Terresa sighed and looked out at the rising moon. “It’s so peaceful out here. You could almost forget that this whole planet is at war right now.”

James wanted to pull the young lady into a hug but knew that she wasn’t ready yet for that kind of attention. “I know what you mean Lieutenant. It’s one of the reasons why I walk the battlements nightly.” James pointed towards a massive two-thousand-foot-tall rock formation off in the distance. “Do you know what the locals call that formation Lieutenant?”

Terresa looked to where James pointed. Shaking her head no. “All I’ve ever heard it called is outer marker six, sir.”

“Do you see the split between the two halves?” Terresa nodded and James smiled. “It is because of that split the locals call that formation the Lovers Embrace. From what I understand, when New Texas was undergoing its terraforming that rock formation was a solid rock. The high winds of the terraforming process split the rock formation then scoured the faces smooth. This is where local legend comes into play. It seems that the couple that was assigned to monitor this area got distracted during the atmosphere collation stage. You know when they clean and purify the air. Well their distraction led to winds in this area that were higher than normal.”

“Wait a minute sir. What in the world could have distracted two highly trained professionals long enough for something like that to happen?” Terresa was pointing to the massive rock formation.

“This is where the formation got its name, Lieutenant. They had been lovers for more than five months when the AC stage was reached. They felt that the terraformer could operate on its own for a few hours. They slipped off to a private little love nest they had setup a few months earlier for an afternoon delight.”

It took Terresa a few seconds to understand where James was going with his explanation for the name of the rock formation. When she did though for some reason she started to blush. Even though there was about two to three feet between her and James she could still feel the heat of his body. She was sure that he could feel the heat of her body at so short of a distance.

She just knew that James could feel the heat building between her thighs. The smell of her womanly musk rising. The closer that James got to her, the more Terresa was having problems controlling her sexual urges. James wasn’t doing much better. He did indeed smell Terresa’s womanly musk and it was having an effect on him. James took a deep breath through his nose. Terresa’s scent was sweet and bitter at the same time. Just like her attitude.

“May I call you Terresa, Lieutenant?” James was surprised when the elfin woman just nodded her head yes. Little did James know that at that particular point in time Terresa didn’t trust her own voice. “Thankyou Terresa, please when we are alone call me James. May I know what drives you to fly the way that you do?”

“When I am flying, James, it is the only time that people don’t see the monster that is me, the Claymore. I’m just a call sign on the radio. Up there I am truly free from my family name. Nobody knows that Scorpion or Claymore-zero-one is Terresa Cole, daughter of Colonel Andria Cole and Brigadier General Jackson ‘Ironwood’ Cole. Up there I’m just me not my family’s black sheep. Up there everyone is equal in the eyes of their gods or goddesses.” Terresa was looking at the skies as she answered James’s question. She never took her eyes off the far horizon. “Everyone knows that pilots live in two elements. Air and Fire. What most people don’t know is there is a third element that we don’t talk about. The element of Steel. It is the Iron Will forged into one of Steel that lets us truly fly, James.”

“You know something Terresa that is the most you have said to me. Care tell me what has you in such a talkative mood tonight?” James was really starting to enjoy this time with Terresa. He wanted to get to know the young woman before going further.

“Don’t know really, James. Just feel like talking I guess.” She then turned and looked up at his face. Really looked at him for the first time. Not as a Commanding Officer, or Crown Prince, but as a man. James could tell that this was a defining moment in Terresa Cole’s life. “You know something James. You’re quite handsome. For a G.R.U.N.T. that is.”

It took James a few seconds to realize that she had just given him a lefthanded compliment. After blinking his eyes several times James just broke out laughing at the witty comment from the young woman. The fact that she would even call him a G.R.U.N.T. in this day and age was truly a sign from above. Only the very few knew the real meaning behind that acronym. Ground Recon Unit None Trainable.

“I hope that we are not keeping score for witty remarks Terresa.” James coughed out over his laughter. Terresa’s reply was to smile then just kissed her fingertip and made a hash mark in the air. “May I kiss you Terresa?”

Terresa did the only thing that her mind would let her do just then. Throwing her arms around James’s neck she stood on tiptoe and pulled him to her. James had only his reflexes to thank for his response to the sudden romantic attack. Wrapping his arms around the woman that had been haunting his dreams for the pass thirty days. James kissed her with all of the pinned-up frustration over watching her from afar. Wanting to just drag her down on the sands of the desert and take James still controlled his lust for Terresa. Even as her tongue forced its way between their lips and into his mouth James knew he had to maintain control.

When they finally separated Terresa looked up into James’s eyes. “James, you and I know that we can get into a world of shit if this ever gets out.”

James just chuckled as he ran his hand through her hair. “This is one time that you don’t need to worry about that stupid no fraternization rule. Like you said earlier. You’re a pilot my dear. While I am a G.R.U.N.T. My only question, is what do we tell your lovely mother? She’ll spot the change in your attitude towards me in a heartbeat. I for one will not hide from her.”

“Oh, that is simple, James. We wait until the very last minute before telling Andria Cole jack shit. I am not about to go telling my mother that I am in love with a fracking Royal, let alone the Crown Prince of the Empire.” Terresa just shook her head no to that idea. Then she smiled up at James to take the sting out of her words. “What I will tell her is that I fell in love with a handsome, and honorable man, who just so happens to command an APS Battalion. What I want to know is how are you going to explain me to your mothers?”

“That is the easy part, my love.” James smirked before continuing. “They already know all about you. And they fully approve of you, my dear. Momma Alice said something about your enemies define your taste in men. The worse a woman’s enemies the better the man she will find to marry. As for Mother Maiha, don’t worry too much about her. You got to remember she was raised by a common man. James Owens was her grandfather, not the First High Lord of the Death Dealers.”

Terresa thought about what James just said then relaxed into his embrace just a little more. “Tha mi 'n dòchas gu bheil thu ceart, mo ghruaim.”

Even with Stephen’s help James was unable to translate what Terresa just said. “Um… Terresa, I don’t mean to sound disrespectful or well, uneducated. But could you say that in Empyreal Standard for me, please?”

Terresa just giggled. “Sorry about that James. I do that from time to time. It’s one of my little quirks. That was Scots Gaelic for I hope you’re right, my sweet.”

“Why on earth would you know such an out of date langue Terresa?” James was truly amazed that this woman in his arms even knew the language of Isle of Sky.

“My mother’s stories. I always loved to sit at my mother’s knee when she had the time. I would listen for hours about all the heroes of ancient Scotland and the Fay folk from of the Isle of Sky. One of the things that I learned from my mother was Scots Gaelic. To me it one of the most beautiful sounds to the ear when spoken correctly. Didn’t your parents teach you their family languages?”

James chuckled. “All four of them. Yes, my dear that is right. I speak four different languages. Japanese, Empyreal Standard, German, and High Elf. I learn them all growing up on Ryuk. It really helped out when I screwed up and one of my mothers was chewing me out. Of us all Richie really took to languages the easiest. Do your brother and sister speak any other languages?”

“No. Sadly I was the only one to ever really take an interest in our family origins and history. But when you have parents like mine you tend to get a little side tracked from what is really important in life.” Terresa sighed into James chest only to realize that he understood exactly how she felt. The rumbling of his chuckle confirmed her guess as to the having to live up to living legends. “I forgot who I was talking to there for a minute. You really do understand, James.”

“That I do Terresa. That I do. If anybody knows what it is like, I do.” With a kiss on the top of her head James turned them towards the center of camp. “I think we need to be heading back in now, Terresa. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be one busy day for the both of us.”

Terresa looked up at James. “Care to spend the night in my tent James?”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 13
Amazon Command, Bella Rosh, New Texas 0730
Supreme Commander Victor Von Bencher walked once more into his control center. He looked around and smiled. The once chaos filled room was now replaced by order. He smiled as his new XO walked over to him. His plans for putting down the rising rebellion and riding himself of Rice had worked perfectly. Sum Commander Markus Stone may not be one of the Elites, but his loyalty was unquestioning. Where Rice’s loyalties were only to the Council, Stone was a Military Man through and through.

“Sir, Operation Nighthawk went off without a hitch.” Stone saluted and handed over a written report on the Operation last night. “No witnesses to the cleanup, sir.”

“What about the strikes on the targeted cities?”

“All in the report sir. Total devastation of all four cities. Unfortunately, we suffered heavy losses. All four regiments failed to clear the blast areas in time. Sub Commander Rice is among the dead.”

Von Bencher had to fight to keep the smile off his face. His plan had truly worked. The rebellion would soon be nothing but a thing of the past. With no witnesses to the bombings and losses on both sides Von Bencher could blame the New Texans. He now had enough evidence to frame the nuclear attacks on the New Texans in the eyes of the Hall of Judges. The Amazon Collective will be free to do as they wished now on New Texas. And any other planet they wish to conquer though the legal system. “What of the rogue bomber crews?”

“All were taken care of by the Black Witch, sir. She and her flight were able to track them down. None of those bombers returned from their illegal mission, sir.” Of all the things that Von Bencher want to hear, this was the most important.

“Then all is in readiness for Operation Thunder Struck?” Von Bencher asked.

“Not yet sir. We need to finish consolidating our forces on the Panhandle Plains. Another forty-eight to sixty hours before we can even begin operations, sir.” This was not what Von Bencher wanted to hear. The longer it took his forces to regroup and form battle lines the harder it would be for them to defeat the New Texans. “The very countryside that we have worked so hard to subdue in certain areas has become even more unstable. Our supply lines and travel routes are coming under constant attack by guerrilla and irregular forces. It doesn’t matter which route they take the New Texans are there. It is as if they know where we go. Then there is the aerial support they have been receiving from the White Sands base. If we are to get Operation Thunder Struck off on time that base needs to be suppressed sir.”

Von Bencher knew that Stone was only telling the truth. The biggest thorn in his plan to blame the New Texans for the war was the New Texans themselves. Unless he could rally his forces, the Texans would keep them separated and tear them apart one unit at a time. It didn’t matter how powerful those units were, sooner or later the Texans would over run them. The Texans were as rebellious as their ancestors. Not that it would change things in the end. Be the end of the month his forces would crush all opposition on this planet, and it would all be thanks the Imperial Military Forces. He just needed to force the Imperials hand. The problem was how.

Then it came to him. “XO I want that base at White Sand leveled. Do we have the bombers to handle the mission?”

“Yes, sir. The twenty-ninth and thirty-second bomber squadrons can reach the base and return. They also have the needed escort fighters to reach that far. Given three hours we can pound that base into nothingness.”

“Make sure that there is nothing left of that base. No nukes. Anything else is on the table. In fact, use the Daisy Cutters. I want no survivors understood?” Von Bencher’s orders were all that his new XO needed to hear. They were finally done pussyfooting around with these ignorant Free breeders.

White Sands Research and Development Center 0545
Terresa Cole’s tent near the flight line.
Lilly woke me at the usual time. I was slightly surprised when James had not accepted my offer to stay the night with me. I was so sure that he would have tried to advantage of my weakened state of mind last night. I have never let my guard down like that. Yet, he was the prefect gentleman. All he did was escort me back to my tent, kiss me one last time, then bid me goodnight. Prince James Nakatoma could have any woman he desired, he had no use for someone like me.

‘Terresa, I must say that you have come a long way in accepting your new-found femininity. What brought on this change of heart?’

‘Nothing really Lilly. I’ve just gotten tired of fighting with myself and these new emotions. I don’t want to be like a few of my friends back at the academy went through unexpected gender swaps during their Second-Gen processes. It took them months to come to terms with their new sexes. I remember one of the docs there telling them that the only way to move forward with their lives through acceptance. I just got tired of fighting is all and accepted my life as a woman.’

‘Terresa, I am surprised by your change in attitude. For the last month you have barely done more than bathe and change your lingerie. You barely accept the fact that you now have to wear a bra and panties. Then last night you go and invite a man back to you tent for a sexual encounter. Terresa, I know that part of your problems has come from the missing pieces of the COBRA programing. I believe that there is one part that was only there partially at the beginning and now is completed. It has been this part that has caused you the most emotional turmoil.’

‘Lilly what are you talking about?’

‘It took me a while, but I have found the missing parts to the behavioral programing protocols for the COBRA. That programing has slowly been writing the replacement parts of the protocols. I didn’t want to bring this to your attention unless you needed them to hide. I believe that despite my best efforts to control that aspect of the COBRA program it has overtaken control. Should I shut it down?’

I thought about what Lilly had just told me. The more I thought about it the more that I realized it was for the best. I may have cursed the COBRA program at first for what it had put me and my family through, but it had saved my life in the end. If that same program was now helping me adjust, to being a female, then so much the better. I know that Lilly could now shutdown certain parts of the program. Yet this is one part that I think she needs to leave alone.

‘No Lilly. Leave it alone. Just let it run its course.’ I knew that Lilly wanted to object so stopped her before she could start in on me. ‘I know what I’m doing here Lilly. I believe that it is in my best interest to allow that program to help me with adjusting to my new life.’

‘Very well, Terresa. I’ll do as you say for now. But if I feel that it is making unnecessary or excessive behavioral adjustments I will shut it down. Understand?’

‘Sure, Lilly. I get it.’ I could tell that Lilly didn’t like the COBRA program even though it saved her life as well. I sat up on my cot and stretched. For the first time I noticed that I had slept in the nude. Just as I had always done. Something I hadn’t done in the last month. Until last night I had been sleeping in panties and bra. I quickly dress in fresh lingerie. Pulling on my bathrobe I head for the shower station. I take my flight suite and boots for the day with me.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the shower station at this time of the day. I don’t even have to wait for a showerhead to open up. We may be in the middle of a desert, but the late nighttime and earlier morning hours are the coolest parts of the day. Dropping more than thirty to fifty degrees from the daytime highs. As I lather up my hair I let my mind go over what might have happened during the night. I knew that the Amazons were pushing all across the planet in an attempt to consolidate their hold on New Texas. I also knew that the New Texans were giving them mortal hell at every turn and the Death Dealers haven’t even moved out to organize them yet. I thought about what I knew of the regular Death Dealers.

They were experts in all forms of warfare except one, that was aerial combat. It is also why most of the time Death Dealer units are given an Air Support Wing from the Imperial Navy or regular Imperial Army. Most Death Dealer pilots only fly attack and transport choppers. Sylvia told me that it has something to do with the way the new Second-Gen bio-AIs and the speeds of aerospace fighters interact.

Sylvia wouldn’t go into detail when I asked her what she meant. But I found out through my own investigations. AI-burnout. It was a very real and very dangerous thing. The first time I heard of it was during my time at flight school. Two of my classmates had died that way. It wasn’t until after I had completed flight training that I was able to get the real story behind their deaths. I have known about AI-burnout for awhile now. It is a real fear for all fighter pilots. Push too hard, and slam, AI-burnout. No one knows what causes burnout, but it is real.

‘Terresa, I have been going over the symptoms of AI-burnout. I think I have figured out why and how we are immune.’

‘Well don’t keep me in suspense Lilly. Tell me already.’

‘Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome. The very thing that prevented you from receiving a Bio-AI in the first place is what makes you immune to AI-burnout.’

I was halfway back to my tent and stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Are you sure of this Lilly? I mean absolutely fracking positive.’

‘My calculations put your H.H.S.S. as the counter to AI-burnout at ninety-eight-point-nine percent. I cannot give you more than that as a guarantee I’m afraid.’

I almost fall over laughing at hearing Lilly’s estimated guarantee. The fact that she has just given me the answer to AI-burnout with a better than fifty-fifty chance of working was unbelievable. The answer to the greatest problem facing aerospace fighter pilots has been in my genes the whole time.

‘Um… Terresa, why are you laughing?’

“Lilly, my dear, crazy AI. Do you realize that for more than thirty years now scientists have been looking for the cure to AI burnout among fighter pilot Second-Gens. Do you think that there is a way for H.H.S.S. to be induced on purpose?’

‘Not only can it be induced on purpose, but it can be done so with ease. The doctors only need to copy your genetic makeup. With a few small code changes perfect Second-Gen Death Dealer Aerospace Fighter Pilots. The one thing that will separate the two will be the fact that the pilots will lack the Second-Gen Weapons.’

‘Wait. Are you saying that any aerospace fighter pilot will not be armed like myself? Why?’ I really needed to know the answer before I went to the boss with this new ‘cure’. Even as I was forming the first question a second one came to. ‘How many of the new pilots would be Claymores?’

‘I’ll answer the last one first, Terresa. Almost none would be Claymore. The standard ratio will hold true, even among these new Death Dealer pilots. AS for them not being armed like normal Second-Gens, the answer is harder to explain. It revolves around the need for denser muscle groups, and higher nerve bundle counts. Just as you have these things, they will need them as well. There just isn’t the room for the standard configuration.’

I thought about what Lilly just explained. It made sense in a weird way. If you don’t need personal weapons to fight a war why carry them but if you need massive reflexes, and extreme muscle control, like to fly an aerospace fighter at Mac 6. Then you double them and pack them in tight. Just the way they are with me. ‘Can the current batch of fighter pilots on the base undergo the upgrade?’

‘Sorry, but no Terresa. Once a person has gone through the Second-Gen process there is no way to change their current configuration. To try would be tantamount to suicide for the pilot in question.’

That very blunt confirmation by Lilly let me know that only the pilots back at the academy were going to prosper from our break through. That is unless a we get those crop duster pilots sometime soon. I know that I shouldn’t put a whole lot of faith in pilots that have never flown more than a low altitude turboprop civilian aircraft. But these men and women flew nap of the earth every day of the week. That one skill alone made most of those pilots better than most. The problem is none of those pilots have yet to arrive. Until then it was just me and the few pilots of the R-n-D Squadron. If Captain Heartlow can get the transport pilots up to speed on the Strike Eagles that’ll give us another eight badly needed pilots.

‘Terresa, we need to head for the TOC. I just scanned a broadcast from the New Texan Nightly News Network. The Amazons have used thermonuclear weapons on four of the New Texas stronghold cities.’ Lilly went silent for a minute. ‘Terresa, they used heavy long-range bombers for the attacks. The bad news is the Amazons are trying to blame the New Texans for their criminal attacks.’

“Aw shit!” I started running towards first my tent. I needed to drop off my toiletries and grab my flight helmet. “Lilly if those frack sticks have already used nukes once they’ll do it again. Get ahold of my mother, Sylvia, and Colonel Kelly. Have them meet us at the TOC. Do it now and don’t argue.”

I never slowed down in my run for the TOC. I knew that I would be needed. As I passed my fighter I called out to the groundcrew. “Get her ready for air-to-air, boys and girls. Lose the ground attack ordinance. I want full air superiority weapons on the Silver Eyed Witch when I get back.”

I was already beyond ear shot by the time they answered me. I knew that my crew would follow my orders and didn’t worry. As I passed each bunkered fighter I repeated my orders. It was only at the last fighter that I was questioned by the groundcrew chief. It happened to be Captain Heartlow’s fighter. I stopped and explained my orders and the reason for giving them. He just saluted and told me to get to the TOC. He would insure that my orders were carried out.

AS I entered the TOC area I was brought up short by the guards there. Only after I showed and confirmed my Id did they let me pass. I wanted to pound the two Corporals but knew they were only doing their jobs. As I stepped inside, I was greeted by the expected chaos of someone doing the unthinkable. I looked around the room until I spotted the one person that I needed to talk to the most, James.

Stepping over to stand beside him. “Sir, can I speak with you outside for a moment?”

James looked at me, then nodded his head while waving towards the door. Once outside he leads me to a secluded area. “About last night Terresa.”

I placed my right index finger over his lips. “Hush James. You were a prefect gentleman. I was the one in the wrong. Now, that being said, please hear me out. For the last month I have fought being female tooth and nail, kicking and screaming all the way. Every time I have been around you, you turn me inside out, upside down, and totally crazy, emotionally. I don’t know why, nor do I care anymore. Lieutenant Colonel James Nakatoma, I love and respect you.” I sighed heavily. “There I got that out of the way.”

James just stood there for a minute before pulling me into a warm embrace to be followed by a deep toe curling, gut churning, breath stealing, heel popping, kiss. When we broke he looked down into my eyes with a smile that showed his true feelings. “Flight Lieutenant First Class Terresa Cole, I don’t have the words to express how I feel towards you. All I know is I want to spend the rest of my days at your side.”

“Will your mothers’ have a problem with you marrying someone like me? I mean I am a Claymore for fracks sake.” I knew that this could be a very real concern among the Royals, Nobles, and High Families.

“Don’t worry about my mothers, Terresa let me handle them. As for the Nobles and High Families, frack’em. I’ve dealt with more than a few of those over indulged cunts and their families to last me a lifetime.” He ran the index finger of his right hand down my jawline while smiling. “Now, tell what has, you running through the doors of the TOC at this time of the morning?”

“What you haven’t heard about the nuke strikes?” I asked in surprise.

“WHAT nuke strikes?” James asked in total shock. “What the hell are you talking about? Nobody would be stupid enough to have dropped a nuke.”

“Yes, they have. The Amazons used heavy long-range bombers, James. The cities of Well Cap, Long Horn, Six Shooter, and Pecos were all bombed last night.”

The significance of those four cities as targets hit James like a ton of APS armor. He grabbed my hand pulling me back towards the TOC. “Come on love. We need to let General Davenport know about this.”

As I was practically dragged back inside I asked. “What are you talking about? Doesn’t she know already?”

“No body in there knows, Terresa. This is the first that anyone has heard of a nuke strike. How in the world did you hear about it?” James demanded as we reentered the TOC at a dead run.

“Lilly, picked up a broadcast on the attacks. I thought that it was a report coming into the TOC.” I quickly asked Lilly where she picked up that message.

‘It was on the news networks Terresa.’

“Oh shit. James, Lilly just told me where she found that report. It was on the news networks. If that report was on the networks that means the Amazons are going to blame the New Texans for sure. If they haven’t already. Because if they don’t then the Empire comes in on the side of the Texans, and they get plastered.” It was all making sense now. Well at least to me it was.

James didn’t even bother with decorum. He just walked right up to the map table and interrupted Davenport’s morning briefing. “The fracking game has changed people. The River Sluts went and popped four to eight nukes last night.”

I thought that Davenport and her Command Staff were going to shit bricks hearing this. Colonel McManus was the first to question James. “How the hell did they launch as nuke without setting off the early warning network, Colonel?”

James just waved me over. “Sir, the only way that they could. Heavy long-range bombers were used. I know that they have them. I shot down six during the battle for the old Division TOC. Avro Mk-1 Manchester Heavies and sir, if they have those they have access to something heavier. Something that could carry a forty-four Rockeye all the way up to sixty-six minutemen.”

The fact that I just gave the Command Staff the range of nuclear weapons that could be delivered undetected by the early warning system had them all glaring at me. “No offence sirs, but every aerospace pilot knows about those weapons. We also know what it takes to deliver them.”

“Lieutenant Cole, I don’t care what every pilot knows. What I want to know is why didn’t you fracking stop them?” Demanded one of the Texans.

I looked over at the man and ground my teeth as I answered him. “Listen up, you jackbooted asshole. I have been flying three to four missions per-day, every day, since this whole mess started. I won’t even go into the number the other pilots have flown. The entire aerospace contingency of this base is pushing our limits. We need to sleep, eat, and take a shit sometime. So, unless you got twenty to thirty pilots, with fighters, sitting around someplace with their thumbs up their asses BACK THE FRACK OFF!”

I know that I was out of line but didn’t care. If the stupid S.O.B. opened his mouth one more time I was going to shoot him. I already had my hand on my sidearm. My reflexes were faster than anyone’s here I knew that I could clear my holster and kill this man before they could stop me. The hand on my shoulder was the only thing stopping. That and the ever-present bodyguards for James and his Lance.

“Lieutenant Cole, I suggest that you regain your military bearing before you get into further trouble, NOW.” I looked over at Colonel McManus and sighed. “As for you Governor Ferguson I would reign in your attitude towards our pilots. They are the only ones that are keeping your two medium class divisions from being blasted into the hereafter. Remember that old saying from Earth Prime. Never have so many owed so much to so few. That is what we are currently facing.”

“I don’t really care. If you don’t have enough pilots for those fancy fighters out there, then order the pilots you do have to undergo whatever process they need to, to become a whatever they need to be to fly one.” Ferguson looked over at me. “Besides, who cares if a few Claymores die in the defense of my planet. That’s what they’re there for isn’t it? They’re nothing more than disposable weapons anyway.”

I wanted to kill the man just then. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to kill the Governor for New Texas. More than one of the officers in the TOC were brandishing weapons at this point. All of which were pointed in Ferguson’s direction. It was into this very charged situation that Command Sergeant Major Southerland walked. I just knew that he was going to exasperate things.

“Ferguson, you dumb son-of-a-bitch you just had to go and piss their cornflakes. What the hell were you thinking man?” Southerland grabbed a hold of Ferguson and dragged him from the TOC. “Shut your damned pie hole. Let me handle this from now.”

When CSM Southerland returned he saluted General Davenport. “Ma’am, I would like to apologize for the people of New Texas. Ever since we lost our Commanding Generals and their staffs he has THOUGHT he was in charge. It was his stupid assed orders that forced the River Sluts to pop the nukes.”

I stood there just staring at Southerland in total disbelief. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. His next words almost caused me to drop to my knees in despair. “Between those four cities we lost close to four-hundred-thousand people. All thanks to that man’s stupidity and his Irregular troops. I told him to end those attacks in the cities, but he just won’t listen to me. In his mind the cities are where we needed to defeat the Amazons.”

General Davenport put my thoughts along with all those around me into words. “For the love of the gods! Why couldn’t he just let the professionals do our job!”

“Pride. That and politics ma’am. He was due for reelection before the war started. He kept going on, and on, about how if he could win the war he would be assured the Governor’s Mansion for life.” All eyes turned towards the door to the TOC. My eyes weren’t the only ones to bugout at the sight of the woman standing there.

At just under six-foot-tall, with an athletic build, wearing Empyreal Marines Battle Dress, with the trademark Campaign Hat, there was no way anyone could not know who this woman was. No one knew where she went after she retired, but here she stood. One of the meanest, toughest, Drill Instructors of all times. Here was the person to whip a band of ragtag want-to-be fighter pilots or ground pounders into shape. No one knows how many Marines she trained over a twenty-year career. Shit I couldn’t believe that I would get the chance to actually serve with her.

Southerland just turned and smiled. “About damned time you got here Sergeant Major Bougus. I hope like hell you got a bunch of firebreathers with you.”

The smile that came to the Sergeant Major Bougus face sent a chill down my spine. “They may be one-hundred percent all natural, Sergeant Major, but they know how to fly. You give them a fighter and my kids will bring you back kills. I got enough PDF pilots to give you a fighting chance. Two Squadrons worth to be honest.”

“How the hell did you get two squadrons out here of PDF pilots?” General Davenport demanded of the Sergeant Major.

“We humped our way through, over, and across this damned continent from Minot AB. And now I got some bad news for you. Only one of the two is ready for combat. The one-twenty-seventh can go up now, but the fifty-eighth still needs more training.” Bougus answered Davenport honestly.

I noticed that my mother and sister finally come through the back door. Moving over to them quickly I stop them from coming to far into the TOC. I push them off to one side while Sergeant Major Bougus went over the records for the two squadrons she had brought with her. I knew that I had to get both my mom and sister in on what I was about to propose.

“Mom, Sylvia, what would you say if I told you that I knew how to make more pilots like myself. No, I’m not joking either.”

“Terresa, what have you figured out that we haven’t?” Sylvia demanded.

“Hold your tongue Sylvia.” Mom snapped. “Remember that sometimes the greatest leaps in science are by people outside of the scientific fields.”

“We all know the problem with pilots and AI-burnout. What if the answer is not in removing something but adding something. Say giving the new pilots H.H.S.S.?” I watch as the eyes for both my mother and sister bugout of their heads. I smile. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but why not use the disorder to save lives. I mean according to Lilly it was my H.H.S.S. that makes me immune to AI-burnout.”

Andria Cole stood there is total shock, while her oldest daughter felt like a total dumbass. The biggest fear and problem for the Military Medical Profession was AI-burnout. And the answer to their problems was in the one person who shouldn’t have an AI. Hyper Hysterical Savant Syndrome has been a deal breaker for joining the military for anyone who suffers from it. The medical profession just knew that H.H.S.S. sufferers would go through burnout before leaving the cocoon.

“Are you sure about this Terresa? You have to be absolutely sure. I won’t play with peoples lives. You know that.” My mother demanded.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m positive. If you and Sylvia use the program for my Secondary-Configuration with a slight modification to induce H.H.S.S. the problem of AI-burnout will be a thing of the past. I’m sure of it.” I was almost pleading by the time I got done. I knew that Lilly was right. “All you need is a sample of my DNA to make the needed adjustments for the nanities to work off. Which the hospital currently has in its blood bank.”

Both my mother and sister looked at me as if had just grown a second head. The idea was so far out of leftfield that neither of them had thought of it. The truth was none of the medical staff had even considered the idea as it was just too far fetched for them to consider. Mom asked me the one question that I knew was going to come up. “What about the chances for the Claymore syndrome?”

“The chances will be the same. That is something that I doubt will be found in my genes or anyone else’s. No, the answer to that problem lies elsewhere.” Then I sighed. “The down side is the new pilots will not have the same self-defense weapons that normal Second-Gen Death Dealers are equipped with. They’ll be just as unarmed as I am. Not that they’ll need those weapons, as their reflexes and strength more than makeup for the lack of weapons. Outfitted with a normal pilot’s survival kit and secondary weapons they’ll be just fine.”

“Okay, what about the gender change problem? Will they undergo forced changes?” Sylvia whispered.

“No more than normal sis.” I dropped my voice as I knew it was a touchy topic. “Maybe one in every twenty. Like I said the only change for these pilots would be the lack of personal defense weapons. Well, that and the fact that their muscle groups, nerve bundles, bone structure, and tendon mass will be ramped up to freak level but other than that they’ll look just like normal people.”

The next thing I know both mom and Sylvia were wrapping me in hugs. Mom put their feelings into words. “Terresa, you may have just saved the lives of this division and this whole damned war. Let’s go Sylvia, we got work to do.”

I watched as my family ran from the TOC. I just shook my head and chuckled. I heard something going on over at the map table and worked my way back over. By the looks on the faces surrounding the table I knew that something shitty was in the works.

“I’m telling you General. With the right air support the plan will work.” I looked over at the Captain that was pushing for his plan to be considered. “We can hit the River Sluts hard and put a major kink in their supply chain.”

“Captain Howser, as much as I would love to give you what you want we just don’t have the aircraft for something like these. We have only two long range transports that can cover the distance. And, only one fighter that can provide cover for that transport. I’m sorry but the answer is still no.” I could tell that Davenport really wanted to run with the plan but just didn’t have the needed assists.

Then out of nowhere a Marine Lieutenant Colonel stepped forward. “Not so, General Davenport. The fifty-eighth has the needed transport craft and the one-twenty-seventh has the fighters. All we need is drop tanks for our transport and fighters. It won’t be pretty, but it’ll get the job done.”

“Colonel McQueen, I know that your people can pull this off, but I have to think about the long game. That transport and those fighters can make all the difference in this war.” I watch as the faces of all those present took on a look of defiance. Especially among the members of the PDF.

I stepped in to stop the PDF members from going rouge on us. “Colonel, before you and your people go off on your own you need to know something. Colonel Andria Cole, and Major Sylvia Cole have broken the AI-burnout problem for Second-Gen pilots. If you give them just two days, we can turn this war around.”

I knew that what I just said was like a bomb going off in the TOC. McQueen was the first to speak. “How sure of this ‘cure’ are they Lieutenant?”

“As sure as I am standing here, sir.” I didn’t think he needed to know that they were family. Especially my family.

“And just how would a Flight Lieutenant First Class know about this ‘cure’?” Bougus asked coldly. I could tell that the woman hated and didn’t trust Claymores.

“I’ll answer that for you Sergeant Major.” The cold harsh tone of his voice had everyone looking over at James. Until now he had kept out of the discussion. He had stood back quietly let General Davenport and her staff work out a plan. Deal with the politics of this planetary mess. He had even kept his cool when Ferguson had called me nothing more than a disposable weapon. “Allow me to introduce the person behind finding the cure for AI-burnout and the holder of the third highest number of aerial kills on New Texas. Terresa Cole.”

The two Marines stood there looking at me with unbelieving eyes. The fact that a mere Lieutenant would have more kills than most of the fighter pilots combined on New Texas was not a well-known fact. Let alone that the pilot was a Claymore on top of that. I waited for the outburst that was sure to come.

“If the Lieutenant is the daughter of Colonel Andria Cole, her word is good enough for me. That is a big fracking if, Colonel Nakatoma.” Bougus snarled. “Oh, and I know Andria Cole only has one daughter, sir.”

“Um… not any more, Sergeant Major.” I said barely over a whisper. The woman turned to look at me before letting her face soften.

“They didn’t catch the quirk in time. Sorry for doubting you ma’am.” Buogus answered honestly. “If your mom has the cure then my people will undergo the new process.” I could tell that she really cared for those under her care. Just as any good NCO would. “How long does it take?”

“We don’t know Sergeant Major, but we can have fighters for them when the cocoons open. Fighters the likes of which there is currently only one.” Colonel McManus told the Sergeant Major. “If I could undergo the process I would do so gladly. Just so I could get behind the stick of a FB-eleven Claymore. That damned bird ain’t nothing but pure death on the wing.”

I wanted to take issue with McManus’s description of the Witch but knew that it was only the truth. When McQueen and Buogus look over at me to confirm this I just smile. Sure, I’ll admit to, I’m proud of the aerospace fighter I helped design. Before I could say anything though a Corporal ran in through the TOC door. “General Davenport, we have incoming heavy and light aircraft. We’re still working on the numbers, ma’am. The force is still too far out for a definitive count. We do know that it is a massive force.”

I don’t even think twice. I ran out the TOC heading towards the flight line and the Witch. This was it. The Amazons were finally coming at us out in the open. I hear feet pounding the ground behind me. Looking over my shoulder I spot McQueen and seven other Marine Pilots. I know they’re Marines by the color of their flight suits. The drake blue flight suits are unique to the Empyreal Marines. I reach my bird first. I smile at the way Chief Daily has armed the Witch.

“Damn Chief! I wasn’t expecting you to go all out like this. What is the loadout?”

“Listen up LT. You got a mix load of missiles. Ten and fourteen. I know that you would want more Mavericks but you’ll need the Sidewinder Rattlesnakes for the escorts. The same goes for the rest of the birds on the flight line. They’re all setup the same way. Air-to-air Interceptor roles only.” Once again Chief Daily worked on connecting my helmet while I strapped into the ejection seat. “We replaced your normal autocannon loadout with an all high-explosive loadout. I upped the cyclic rate, shortened the chain links, and replaced the rounds with caseless rounds. I was able to squeeze in another ten rounds for the cannon. Giving you a total of one-hundred-sixty rounds. That is the good news. The bad news is you have keep an even bigger eye on your heat and ammo count. That monster will eat through that one-hundred-sixty rounds like it was nothing. If you let the heat get to high those caseless rounds will cookoff in the chamber. You’ll end up with a runaway autocannon and no way to stop it. That’s why the trigger for the autocannon is on the throttles now. Along with the triggers for your missiles. Understand?”

“Shit. Any more surprises Chief?”

“Just one LT.” He reached over and pointed to a red toggle switch on my control council. “You flip that switch and you remove the break on the autocannon. You do that, and you control the rate of fire. Only do it if you are in deep shit LT.”

“Got you Chief. Weapon of last resort. Do I have to hold back on the engines?”

“Nope, You’re cleared to push the Witch to her max and not hold her back anymore. I do suggest that you keep a little in reserve.”

I smiled at the Chief’s need to protect me. To always keep something back, something hidden, a hold out as it were. “Gotcha Chief. Anything else I need to know about the weapons setup or are the rest still the same?”

“Everything else is the same. Just remember to keep an eye on your heat LT. Don’t forget to bring my little girl to me in one piece.” He settled my helmet on my head then gave me a thumb’s up. “Glory or death, LT.”

“Glory or death, Chief.” I watched as he dropped to the ground and pulled the cockpit ladder away before I kicked over the engines. Once again, the twin demons of speed roared to life. I could feel the raw power of those powerful engines vibrating the frame of the FB-11. The thought of all that power chained to my will brought a small smile to my face. I knew that nothing in the skies could match me.

I apply a small amount of thrust and maneuver the Witch out of her bunker. I look down the airfield at the eight Fu-4B Corsairs rolling towards the hammerhead. I can tell they’re all refurbished. They may be out of date, but they’ll still pack a punch in a SFT; better known as Strike Fighter Tactics or dogfighting. Even the Strike Eagles would be hard pressed against those old warhorses.

As I turn my nose towards the hammerhead the rest of the fighters pull out of their bunkers. Between the eight Corsairs and the sixteen Strike Eagles we have a sizeable defense force when I add in the Witch. Especially if I can meet the incoming aircraft at range. I really want to get off the ground ahead of the others but this is the order that Colonel McManus put into place for emergencies. As I wait for my turn to take off Lilly brings up the radar scans from the ATC.

“Terresa, this is not good. Look at the size of that return. There has to be at least two full bomber squadrons on their way here. With escort fighters.”

I looked over the radar return and could only sigh. “There’s more than that out there Lilly. Use a binary back sweep and breakdown the overlap. You’ll see what I mean.” I just waited for Lilly to do what I ordered.

When the next sweep crossed the incoming aircraft, Lilly got a real headcount. “Terresa, how did you know there were more than just what I guessed at?”

“Because if the Amazons don’t put this base out of commission within the next four days the New Texans will be able to mount a full defense of their planet. The longer we hold out the longer the New Texans have to organize. The more the Texans organize the stronger their resistance. The stronger the resistance the more likely Empress Maiha will send in Peace Keepers. If the Empress sends in Peace Keepers, the Amazons lose all rights to any holdings on the planet. In other words. They lose, period. Their bid to control the New Confederate System will be thrown out the window. The Amazons have to push now or lose everything. They made the mistake of letting us hold on to this base. They should have either destroyed it outright or taken it from us on the first damned day. Those MLRS batteries failed in their mission. Ever since we have kept the River Sluts at arms reach and out of range for artillery.”

I slowly move onto the hammerhead and line up for takeoff. I watch as the last two Strike Eagles rocket down the strip side-by-side and leap into the skies. Now, it was my turn. With a steady hand I push the throttles forward. Once again, I hear the scream of twin demons chained to my will. At the halfway point I feel the landing gear clear the runway. I pull back on the stick and climb for the skies. I double check the radar and see that the other fighters are already heading towards the incoming bombers. Even as I climbed I felt that something was off. Like we were being baited into a trap. That was when it hit me.

“Lilly, switch to orbital scans. Something is off here girl.”

“What are you talking about Terresa? The size of the radar return is big enough to draw all of our fighters where they belong?”

“Enough to draw off our defenses. The real attack is coming in from another vector Lilly. Run a full scan, now.” I knew I was right about this as I gave Lilly her orders. No way was the attack form the North the true attack force.

She quickly provided me right. “Terresa, there is a force running a jammer program at two-three-zero and coming fast.”

“Oh SHIT! Lilly, that is the REAL attack.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 14
Amazon Command, Bella Rosh, New Texas

Emily Calisto smiled as she performed her walk around of Marybelle. Finally, they were going to finish off what they had started with the White Sands base. “I still cannot believe those fools in the artillery failed to destroy that base. I mean twenty-eight, J-seven heavy cruise missiles should have put that place out of commission. At least destroyed the airstrips.”

Her mumbling was ignored by her flight crew. They were used to her talking to herself before a flight. Today was nothing new. Then today’s flight was to be the final nail in the coffin for the WSRD. The plan was simple and easy to execute. All the needed resources where here in Bella Rosh. The 29th and 32nd Heavy bomber squadrons. The 29th with their fourteen B-1 Vulcans and the newly arrived 32nd with all eight of their B-36 Peacemakers would come in from the south east. Each bomber would carry their maximum loadout of freefall conventional bombs. For the Vulcans that would be the 20-ton Earthquake bombs, while the Peacemakers would each carry four of the 20-ton Blue Steel Warhammer free fall bombs.

A total of forty-six 20-ton bombs would soon be leveling the White Sands base. The excitement of the impending attack had grabbed every member of the airbase. None more so than Emily Calisto. When she was first approached to layout the Air War for the New Texas campaign she had seen it as her way to finally prove herself. When the war started every part of air campaign had gone exactly as she had planned. With the exception of two points. The destruction of the 101st Death Dealer Division Headquarters and White Sands Research Development Center. The attack on the WSRDC was left to a battalion of artillery and not the heavy bombers that she had originally planned. Of the three batteries one had been destroyed while escaping.

Emily finished her walk around, then stared down and across the flight line. The eight massive Peacemakers were just now finishing with the loading their bombs. She watched as the eight five-man crews perform their own preflight inspections. The Vulcan crews were already in the middle of their inspections. She knew that once the mission was on the way her duty was to protect these twenty-two slow moving targets. None of them could outrun the fighters that would be protecting the WSRDC base. They would be the chum for her pray. First though they needed to deliver their payloads on target. After that Emily didn’t care if they returned to base. She wanted the chance to face off against the pilot of that amazing twin tailed devil.

It was with a predatory smile that Emily climbed the ladder to her cockpit. As she was strapping in her Crew Chief climbed up to give her a hand with her helmet. “You have a full load of air-to-air missiles ma’am. Your autocannon has been loaded as you requested. One-four loadout. The order is armor piercing, high explosive, buckshot, and Willy-Pet. Remember go light on the trigger. Missiles are on the number two throttle trigger. The one-oh-five is on the number one throttle trigger. Your PPCs are on the thumb trigger of the stick and your PPLs on the Index trigger. Remember ma’am, out there somewhere is that all silver twin tailed devil. The last report on the pilot for that beast has been confirmed. You go up against that fighter you’re facing a fracking Claymore slag. We’re still working on the pilot’s name and whatever else we can gather on them, ma’am.”

“Damn. I had hoped to face a worthy foe. Not some gene scum gutter trash Claymore. Why do those fools, over in the Empire, allow such defects to live is beyond me. Oh, well just another reason for me to blow that pilot from the sky.” Emily settled her helmet and gave the thumbs up to her Ground Crew Chief. She flipped the switch that lowered the canopy and sealed her into the fighter’s cockpit.

The Chief pulled the ladder away and cleared the area of her intakes. She smiled and waved as the Ground Crew cleared the area of her Marybelle. “Now, all I need is a little bit of luck and for that Claymore to show up for a fight.”

Emily slowly taxied out into position behind the last of the bombers to wait for her time to takeoff. Over the next fifteen minutes she waited patiently until the last bomber left the runway. When her time came Emily lead her fighter group down the runway in a steady procession of pairs. With twenty-two slow moving bombers Emily had decided to bring her whole squadron of fighters. With only sixteen fighters she knew they would be hard pressed to protect them all. Not that Emily cared either way. All she wanted was to fight the Claymore.

The skies over White Sands R-n-D Center

Pulling hard on the stick I bank hard over on to course two-three-zero and push the throttles to the stops. I key the mike and broadcast what I found.

“Whiskey Sahara Delta, the attack to the North is a diversion. I repeat the Northern attack is a diversion. The real attack is coming out of the South East. Course two-three-zero. Over.”

“Negative, Scorpion. The attack at zero-one-zero is the real thing. Now return to former heading at once. Over”

I don’t know the voice manning the ATC. Whoever they are must be new. That or they’re a spy. But I know for a fact that Sylvester and his men cleaned out the spies that infested the base.

“Negative, Whiskey Sahara. The real attack is coming out of the South East. Pull the other Strike Eagles back. Over”

“I repeat Scorpion. You are to return to your old heading now. There is nothing to the South East. Our scans show nothing. Now return to your original heading. Over”

“Oh frack it! Stupid ignorant REMF bastard!” I know that I’m screaming at thin air, but it felt good. “Lilly, get me Scooby on the radio.”

“I’m on it, Terresa.” The snarl in her voice let me know that she was just as pissed as I was. “Scooby on channel three.”

“Scooby, Shaggy, breakoff and turn to heading two-three-zero. Over” I call out.

“Scorpion, what are you talking about? Over”

“Scooby, the real attack is coming from the South East. You and the others are heading towards a diversionary attack. Over” I’m still scanning for the force that is in front of me. I know it is out there, I just don’t know the size.

“Damn! Hold on Scorpion. We’re on our way. Do you have an idea of the size? Over”

“Negative Scooby. Still trying to lock down their exact location. They’re running a heavy jammer program. Over” I can hear the twin screams of the Strike Eagles engines in the background of Scooby’s transmission. The Captain must have pulled hard enough on the stick to stress the air frame.

“Do what you can Scorpion. We’ll be there fast as possible. Out”

I sigh as at least Captain Heartlow was on his way to cover my ass. I bring up my radar scans and double sweep the area in front of me. When I get a massive second double return I know I’m on the right course. With the third sweep of my radar scans I finally burn through the jammers. It takes the fourth sweep to get a set of solid returns though. I start counting the number of targets.

“Lilly please tell me that we are not facing thirty-eight hostile aircraft.” I beg of Lilly. “And before you say that I’m not wrong with my count. That was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh please, Terresa. I knew that the moment you asked it. As for the count you’re on the money. I got a breakdown of what we’re facing. Fourteen B-1 Vulcan heavy bombers, eight B-36 Peacemakers super-heavy bombers, with sixteen KV-81 Sturmgewehr heavy fighters acting as escorts.”

At the mention of the KV-81s I have to ask. “Is SHE with them?”

“Odds are good Terresa.”

For the first time during this flight I let the smile come to my lips. I let my hands glide across the arming switches for my weapons. I know that I am about to go head-to-head with the deadliest pilot the Amazons have. One way or another today this the end of her deadly reign in the skies. That or she kills me.

“Terresa, I hate to say this, but those bombers need to be our primary targets.”

“What the hell are you talking about Lilly? The Black Witch is here. We can finally get our payback damn it.” I snapped.

“Terresa, please, I want revenge as much as you do but my scans of those bombers have me worried. They’re moving too slow for their listed flight performances.”

“What do you mean they’re moving too slow?” I knew that Lilly had to have a reason for her worry. Whatever that worry is had to be big. “Why would they be moving below their listed performance specs?”

“If I had to guess Terresa, it has to be because of their bomb load. If I were to guess I would have to say that those bombers are carrying twenty-ton bombs.”

“Ah shit! That’s far too many blockbusters for my tastes. Okay. You’re right. We go after the bombers first.” I apply some left rudder and swing wide to come in on the portside of the bomber formations. I also pull back on the stick and climb for as much altitude as I can before attacking the first formation. “Let’s just hope like hell that Heartlow and the others get here in time.”

“Why?”

“Because if they don’t Lilly the base is fracked.”

Lead Vulcan Bomber, fifty miles southeast of White Sands

Flight Commander Alexis Ford smiled over at his co-pilot. “We’re right on time, Tess. Ten more minutes to bombing run IP. How’s out package doing?”

“Sitting nice and tight, Skipper.” Tessa Marks returned his smile. “Joey just informed me that the rest of the squadron are running in perfect harmony. We should be over the target in less than fifteen minutes, sir.”

“What about the big boys, Tess? How far behind are they?” Alexis asked worried about the Peacemakers falling too far behind. If they got much further behind there would be two sperate attacks not just one. The KV-81s won’t stick around to provide cover for both squadrons. “I don’t want to leave them swinging in the wind if we get separated. Those KV-81s and their Flight Leader will abandon them at the first chance to mix it up with those Strike Eagles we’ve been hearing about.”

“Damn Skipper. That is about cold blooded as hell. I mean Flight Leader Calisto really won’t use us as bait, would she?”

Alexis sighed. “That he-bitch would do more than that Tess. She has no honor and is totally ruthless. The rumors of her firing on ejected pilots are true. That shemale cunt has gone so far as to fire on our own aerospace fighters that have gotten between her and her next kill. No, I don’t trust that person as far as I can throw this bomber.”

“Skipper, we got a single fighter coming in from our three o’clock high.” The bombardier called out from his station. “And sir it’s that new fighter of the Imperialists.”

“Ah shit! I just knew it was going too easy.” Alexis grabbed the yoke for the bomber taking control from Tess. “Alright people. Heads up, we got unwelcome company coming in fast and hot. Gunners maker your targets and don’t waste your ammunition on taking wild shots. Remember, our job is to put that Earthquake on target, not rake up fighter kills. Leave those to our escorts.”

White Sands Armored Power Suit Hangers.

James climbed the front of his personal APS with grim determination. Of all the APSs stationed at White Sands only his lance could help in this up coming aerial battle. As he slides into the cockpit for the massive 85-ton White Tiger he knew that he had to do something to protect the base. Placing his hand on the scanner to confirm his id James started the initiation sequence. James waited for the first identification question to come.

“Pilot name and id please.” The voice was cold and extremely machine like.

“Lieutenant Colonel James J. Nakatoma. First Prince of the Human Empire. Oldest son of Empress Maiha and Princess Alison.” James smiled as the power of the KW fusion reactor came online. Bring with it life to the White Tiger’s systems. A glint came to James’ eye as the second question came. As always it was the soft lilting voice of his mother Maiha that greeted him.

“Tell me my son, what is the War Hero’s warning?”

James just smiled as he thought back to that day so long ago. In the ancient and honored cemetery on Earth Prime. The day that his mother walked with him through the grave stones and hearing the voices of the old dead soldiers whispering in his ear. It was their quiet voices that brought him his greatest lesson in how to be a ruler of men and women. “Never turn your back on the reaper.”

“Full power granted. Welcome aboard James. I take it that the Wild Cards finally get a chance to step out and play.” Gone was the cold mechanical voice. In its place was the voice of someone long dead. My mother Maiha’s son James J. Owens Jr.

“I don’t know about playing Reaper. I do know that only our firepower has any chance of making a difference in this battle. We’ll be in full antiair aircraft mode. We have an unknown number of heavy bombers on an inbound course for the base. We have to buy Terresa Cole and the other pilots time to engage them.” James flipped the switch releasing the locks for the service gantry. Stepping out and away from the gantry James felt the vibrations of the other members of his lance joining him. Opening a channel to his lance mates. “Time to shuffle the deck Wild Cards and deal out a shit ton of pain.”

“King of Spades here Joker. About time you pulled your head out of your ass.” The voice of Steven Light Horse lifted James heart.

The feeling as Derick Pike voice came over the connection just reinforced his trust of his lance mates. “King of Diamonds here Joker. Can we finally put an end to these over indulged ass wipes? Over”

“Queen of Hearts here Joker. I never thought you would get your act together in time to have fun.” The soft voice of Heather Pike would also remind James of his first love, Cathy Pike.

The last voice was that of his long-time friend Joseph Silver Leaf. “King of Clubs here Joker. I think we can drop more than one of those bombers.”

“That is the plan guys. We got the only five antiair AP Suits on the base that can act in an ADA role. We have to bring down as many of those monsters as we can people. Unlock full radar ranging and targeting. We concentrate our firepower on one bomber at a time. Engage interlocking fire programs. How copy?”

It was Joseph who answered for his lance. “Let’s ring the bells of Hell, Wild Cards. Time to ring the bells of Hell.”

As one the five heavy Fire Support Armored Power Suits move out. As they crossed the sands of the surrounding desert the AP Suits took on an unearthly air with each step. Even the men and women manning the defensive battlements couldn’t tell if they were real or not. It was as if five ghosts from a long-forgotten past had risen up from their graves to avenge their very deaths.

It took them just under ten minutes to reach a position from which they could bring their firepower to bear on the lead bombers. James locked onto the nearest Vulcan and raise his primary weapons. As one the members of his lance locked onto the same bomber. The tone of a solid lock began to ring through the cockpit of the massive war machine. “Okay, Reaper, here we go.”

With steady even pressure James squeezed the trigger for the twin mounted over-under PPL and PPCs that were his primary weapons. As the beams of pulsating plasma reached out to burn through the first three layers of armor on the bomber. The two ropes of man-made lightning tore away the rest of the armor plating. This allowed the other members his lance to target the same area on the bomber. Four heavy autocannons, four gauss rifles, and eight PPLs slammed into the belly of the bomber totally destroying the bomb bay doors. With that destruction came the death of the Earthquake bomb held there. James and his lance turned their weapons on the next bomber in line. Their sudden and unexpected attack broke the formation of the lead element of bombers in a way that turned them all into defenseless targets.

James didn’t waste this opportunity presented by the bombers. He targeted and locked on faster than ever before in his training. Now, was when he lived up to his heritage. Now, was when he finally let the oldest of grandson James J. Owens step onto the stage that he had tried so hard to avoid. Now, was when he would finally lay claim to the title of Death's Own Grandson. Time slows down for James then comes to a standstill. A voice he has never heard before enters James’ awareness. A voice that until now only his mother, the Empress Maiha had heard.

‘Tell me my grandson, are you ready for the path that you have set your feet upon?’

‘Go to hell you old ghoul. This is between me and those pilots. Nothing more.’

‘Wrong my grandson. Don’t you feel it already? The rising of your Blood Lust? The need to destroy your enemies? This is what your mother warned you about.’

‘Trust me grandfather. I have yet to turn my back on you or your damn ferrymen. Speaking of which let them know that they have business. If they ask who is paying their way let them know that it is on my tab.’

‘I look forward to the time you no longer hesitate coming to me, my grandson.’

‘I’ll see you in Hell old man.’ With that time returned to normal for James as he and his lance fired on the next bomber. As one they fired and destroyed the bomber. They would repeat this attack time and again. It would not be the aerospace fighters that would win the opening round of the air battle for White Sands. No, it would be the five Fire Support Armored Power Suits of the Wild Cards.

Terresa Cole’s fighter.

I know that they see me. They have to see me, because if they don’t then they’re dead meat. “What the HELL?”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The lead bomber exploded as if made of paper Mache and gunpowder. I don’t understand what’s going on and don’t care. I shift my sights to the next formation of bombers. I target the lead bomber and wait for the tone that lets me know I have a hard lock for my missiles. With just 10 Mavericks and 14 Sidewinder Rattlesnakes I need to make them count. I target the engines for the Vulcans. They’re the weak points. I pull the trigger on the Sidewinders. I felt the missile drop away from its launch rail. The rocket motor kicked in drove it towards its final death spiral. I needed to insure a clean kill so fired off a second Sidewinder Rattlesnake at the same bomber.

I shifted my sights to the next bomber. I wait for the tone of hard lock and fire two more missiles. I know that I am wasting missiles, but I need to insure these bad boys go down and fast. I may have started off with fourteen Sidewinder Rattlesnakes, but they are fast running out. Out of those fourteen I’m down to ten already as I target and fire the next two. Even as the first two missiles slam into the lead Vulcan bomber. I don’t bother to watch as it rolled over and started its own death spiral. I have other fish to fry and keep targeting the other bombers in this flight. As the last of my Sidewinder Rattlesnakes race away from me, the fourth Vulcan is hit. Just as with the first three this bomber falls from the skies.

At eight miles out from their formation I have just ended the lives of seven heavy bombers. Even as I turn my attention towards the first formation I start counting the number of bombers still flying. I am more than surprised to find that only three of them are still flying. The triple-A fire was coordinated in a manner that was deadly beyond imagination.

“Lilly who is coordinating that triple-A fire?”

“You’re not going to believe this Terresa. That is the Fire Support lance of Prince James, the Wild Cards. I must say they are deadly. I wonder how they would fair against ground-based targets?”

“Lilly, I have a feeling that lance of AP Suits would tear apart any enemy they face. Long before they get a chance to fire back. Now, let’s take care of the next squadron of bombers before they get any closer.” I pull hard on the stick and swing around again. This time I am on a solid course for the Peacemakers. Something seemed off to me. It didn’t feel right for some reason. I was missing something. Then it hit me. The escorts were missing.

“Lilly, where the hell are the escorts?!”

Lily took a few minutes before answering me and it wasn’t the answer I wanted. “BREAK LEFT AND CLIMB TERRESA!”

I don’t even think twice and do as she told me. Seconds later three air-to-air missiles scream through the air that I would have occupied. I pull hard on the stick and rollover into a dive heading for the deck. As I come around, I spot the first of the KV-81s. This one is painted with a blue, red, and white check pattern. I can tell just by the paint that I’m facing off against Gustaf Beck. The yellow and green stripped KV-81 just behind him is Beck’s long-time wingman Karla Reinhardt.

I voice the thought that came to mind seeing these two pilots gunning for me. “Oh shit. Where are you Scooby-doo when I need you?”

Then as if summoned by magic over the guard channel I hear a voice that I wanted to just then. Just before both KV-81s came under fire. “GET AWAY FORM HER YOU ASSHOLES!”

The sight of two F1-5E Strike Eagles racing out of nowhere to rescue my ass brought a true smile to my face. I keyed my mike and opened a channel to Scooby as I pulled up out of my dive. “About time you guys showed up for the party Scooby. I hope you brought more than just the one friend. Over”

“Don’t worry about that Scorpion. I brought the whole band with me. You worry about those fracking big bastards inbound. We’ll take care of the Sturmgewehrs. How copy?”

I thought about what Captain Heartlow was ordering me. Of all the fighters form the base I was the only one that stood a chance at stopping the Peacemakers. “Be sure to leave me one or two to play with when I’m done Scooby. Out”

I shove my stick hard right and add some rudder pedal tightening my turn. I push my radar scans to their max and start counting returns again. At eight full returns and no more coming in I know that I barely have enough Mavericks to take them down. Even then I doubt that the ten Mavericks will do the job. I run through the design specs for the Peacekeeper Super Heavy Bomber. The one thing that stands out in my head is their ability to take damage at an unbelievable rate and still keep flying. The biggest reason behind this are the massive six Pratt & Whitney R-4360 and four GE J47-19 heavy thrusters that drove the massive bombers to their normal operation altitudes. Even with twelve miles between them and me I need to climb to reach their cruising altitude if I’m going to stand a chance at taking them down.

Even if I can reach them in time I won’t have much of an operational envelope. Those monsters are going to push the limits of my FB-11 at that altitude. “Lilly, I need an attack plan here girl. And I need it fast.”

“Terresa, we’re going to have to take advantage of the one thing that limits both of our air frames. Head-on or stern attacks. We try turning to bring our main guns to bear and we’ll drop like a damned rock.”

“So, strafing runs only. Gotcha.” I swallow hard and push the throttles to their max. I know that at this altitude I’m going to be burning through fuel at a massive rate. It has to be done though. I need to come at the Peacemakers head on. Even as I climb to meet them I know that I will only have one maybe two passes before they are over the base. IF that happens, it will only take one of those monsters to destroy all of what General Davenport has built. It will force the New Texans into a protracted war they’ll never win. It’ll give the Amazons the one thing they want the most. An all-out, no holds barred, total war with the Empire.

Lead B-36 Peacemaker

Flight Commander Beatrice White smiled at her copilot. “Looks like a little birdy is coming up to play with us, Joan. Let the gun crews please?”

“Sure thing, Skipper. Do you want them to blow it out of the air before it can cause problems with our attack run?” the blonde haired female Amazon asked.

“I think that would be best. I don’t feel like having to come around for a second lineup on the IP. I really do wish those idiots in the Fighter Wings would get a leash on that shemale whelp of theirs. That fighter should have never gotten this far to begin with.” Beatrice sighed out in annoyance.

As the gun crews manned their stations and swung the upper and lower turrets towards the incoming fighter Beatrice really didn’t like what she saw. There was something about the fighter that didn’t sit well with her. This one was actually able to reach their altitude and from the looks of it. That fighter was a real threat. A threat to her bomber and her Squadron. “Joan, tell them to open fire the second they have a radar lock on that fighter. Not one moment longer. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The copilot answered quickly. Joan could tell by the sound of Beatrice’s voice that there was something about this fighter that worried the Skipper. Not that there was a fighter that could get past the firepower of the twin M-24A1 antiaircraft cannons in the turrets. Besides, everyone knew that it took more than a single fighter at this altitude to bring down the Peacemaker. The sounds of the radar targeting controlled gun turrets swiveling to lock onto the incoming fighter was reassuring to Joan and Beatrice. It would be the last reassuring sound they would ever hear in their lives.

Terresa Cole’s fighter.

“Terresa, I know that you don’t want to hear this, but have you double checked the fuel gage?”

“I see it, Lilly.” I gritted my teeth. I was pushing the limits of the Claymore and its engines performance. “If we miss on the first pass do we have enough for a second go at them?”

“Barely, Terresa. We’re burning fuel at a rate that will force us either to climb for the stars or need an inflight refuel. Which with the current situation will not happen until it is resolved.”

I ran the calculations in my head and didn’t like the results. I have just enough fuel for two attacks on those bombers. Even then the only way I can survive the attacks is going to be at Mach 5.5 or higher. At ten miles out and closing I grab hold of the throttles and push them all the way to the stops once again. As I close with the first two bombers I release the only soft spot is the cockpits. With just ten Maverik air-to-air missiles I will need to make them count. For the first-time since I climbed to meet this squadron of bombers I truly smile.

I settle my targeting crosshairs on the lead Peacemaker’s cockpit. When the tone for a hard lock comes I squeeze the trigger. I feel the first Maverik leap from its rail. I watch as the heavy missile speeds its away towards the Peacemaker. I follow it all the way with my eyes. I smile as it impacts on the bubble-like canopy of the bomber smashing its away inside before exploding. I shift my crosshairs the next bomber in line. For whatever their reasons the squadron is flying in line formation.

As I pass over the now dead lead bomber and slip into his Jetstream I realize why. The lead bomber was their pathfinder and cutting the air currents. This simple act allowed for the follow-on aircraft to cruse at altitude by using its contrails for greater lift. Even as they use contrails for lift I use them now to insure their deaths. The smile I wear is no longer the one of a predator’s. No, this smile has no joy in it and fails to reach my eyes. IF my enemy could see my smile their blood would run cold and freeze in their veins. I have finally become the apex predator of the skies over New Texas.

“Time to end this.” I lock onto the next bomber’s cockpit and fire. The Maverik races away. I know this one will need a follow-on strike and fire a second Maverik. The first missile hits just below the cockpit exploding on impact. This explosion almost stops the bomber’s forward movement. The second missile slams into and smashes its way though the canopy to explode halfway into the body of the bomber.

The second bomber falls away just as the first. I start calculating the distances between each bomber and realize that they are flying with a separation of five miles. At first, I don’t understand why then it hits me. They need that distances to carry out their individual attacks on the base. With each five miles I gain another two to three minutes before they can reach their Attack points. That is more than enough time if I push my attack.

The third bomber comes into view and I don’t waste time. I just target the cockpit and fire twice. Again, the result is the same, the death of a bomber. With the fourth bomber coming into view just behind him at almost ten miles from my current position I wait for the distance to close. I need to be closer to make my missiles count. I have use five of those aerospace fighter killers and have five more bombers to take care of. I need to get closer. This time I wait. I bid my time until I am within range of their cannons. This time I let my PPCs and PPLs speak for me.

I don’t bother with targeting the cockpit. This time I target the most exposed weak points of the bomber there is. The engines become the meat for my weapons. I watch as all eight of my PPCs burn through the protective armor of the engine cowlings over the number two portside engine. When the damage reaches critical levels, the engine explodes taking with it the portside wing. I watch as it rolls over and falls toward the planet’s surface. I know that I got lucky, but it is the best I’ve got going for me right now. Like the old saying goes. Better to be lucky in war at times than a tactical genius.

I let my crosshairs fall on the next bomber. As I target the cockpit I feel like something is off but I’m a fighter pilot not a bomber pilot. “Lilly, why haven’t the bomber crews changed direction or pulled off?”

“They can’t, Terresa. These bombers are by now on final approach for their bombing runs. That means they’re on computer guidance and control only.” Lilly’s words hit home. It all made sense to me now.

“Shit no wonder they’re not breaking off. They have no choice but to go through with the attack. Until they regain control over their bombers they’re at the mercy of their computer guidance controls.” I almost felt sorry for the bomber crews. Then remembered that they were out to destroy my friends and family at the base.

I hear the targeting tone ring in my ears. I let my eyes fall on the cockpit of the fifth bomber and squeeze the trigger. Once again, I feel the Maverik race off its launch rail. I watch it all the way to its final impact with the massive bombers cockpit. The missile punches through the armored glass as if it wasn’t there before reaching deep inside to explode. This time the bomber rips itself apart from the inside out. I must have hit the bomb bay and the ordnance stored there. I ride the shockwave that ripples out from the explosion.

Even as I line up for the sixth bomber I know that I’m pushing the limits of my fighter even further. I have to make these clean kills, or the base will suffer for my mistakes. I knew that these bombers were carrying massive bombs along the lines of Earthquake, Block Buster, or Blue Steel Warhammer bombs. Even if just one of those beasts get through the base will be fattened. I finally get a lock on the sixth bomber. I squeeze the trigger once more and follow the missile with my eyes. I can tell that it will be a sure one shoot kill. Instead of hitting the cockpit like the others this one plows through the bombardier’s position in the nose. The resulting explosion flips the bomber nose down into an uncontrolled dive.

I let my smile finally reach my eyes. Just two more bombers. And I’m down to my last three missiles. The tone for a hard missile lock doesn't come. Even as I close with the bomber I wait. It doesn’t make sense, so I switch over to my main weapons and fire. I let my PPCs and PPLs handle a second bomber as I target the nose and cockpit area of the Peacemaker. I fire a second, then third time before finally killing the pilots and bombardier. I breath a sigh of relief as the bomber rolls into a nose dive. With the death of the bomber I finally get a hard lock from my missiles. It is only then that I understand what was going on. The Electronic Warfare officer for the bombers have gotten their act together.

“Shit! Lilly, this is going to be a bitch. Those EWOs have gotten their acts together. How were they able to jam our missile targeting system?”

“Switch over to heat seeker mode, Terresa. We stay with radar guidance they can block our radar returns or override them.”

The moment I heard Lilly’s explanation I knew that I could only attack with my PPCs and PPLs. There was no way that using the heat seeker mode of the Mavericks would take down a Peacemaker. With the way that bomber as constructed the heatsinks were all towards the outer wingtips. Destroying only the wingtips will not be enough to bring down a Peacemaker. You have to destroy the body or cockpit to ensure a clean kill on these bombers. I close the distance to the last bomber. The whole time I hold my fire. I want full charges on all my weapons. I let my crosshairs center on the nose of the bomber. I wait until they turn green signaling a solid target lock.

I still wait and hold my fire. Even as I close the distance the gunners for the bomber open up with their M-24A1 pulse lasers. I cannot dodge, or I’ll miss my target, nor can I fire blindly. I have to push in closer. I have to get right on top of them before I fire. I feel the laser fire hitting along my fighter’s center nacelle and port side engine boom. I keep my eyes on the range finder as it falls. With each one-hundred meters shortening the distances between us. I still wait. Finally, it reaches three-hundred meters and I start to hold my breath. I watch as the range falls away until I am less than one-hundred-and-fifty meters from the bomber. I squeeze the triggers for the PPCs and PPLs. The eight man-made bolts of chain lightning reach out and burn away the proactive armored glass over the cockpit as all twenty PPLs burn their way through the nose of the bomber. Once again the pilots and bombardier die in the blinding flash of my weapons.

I let out the breath I was holding. I push over on the stick I drop towards the ground. I need to bleed off some of my speed. Even at this speed and altitude it will take me more than twenty minutes to get back to help with the defense of the base. I may have stopped the heavy hitters but that doesn’t mean the battle is over. I start double checking my systems on ammunition loadout. I know that I have a full loadout of autocannon rounds and only three missiles left already. It is the PPCs and PPLs that has me worried. Five of my lasers are out of commission along with two of the PPCs. They are all in my portside wing. That is going to make my abilities for aerial combat difficult at best. With almost a quarter of my weapons out of commission I’ll be lucky to take on one KV-81 and win.

The lower I drop in altitude the faster I bleed of the excessive heat that I built up in taking out the bombers. Lilly is the one to point out the really pressing problem though. “Terresa, I hate to say this, but we got a major problem. We’re short on fuel for starters. Next up is the portside engine. The damage it took is considerable. We have lost our ability for supersonic flight. You’re going to have to feather that engine back to minimum rpms. Also, you can forget any high-speed maneuvers. We have sustained far too much damage to the portside and central nacelle to handle the stress. Our best beat is to try and make it back to the base before we fall out of the air. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like walking home.”

“Damn it! I know that bitch is still out here Lilly. We can take her down now.” I was pissed beyond belief. “Why frack couldn’t those assholes showed up sooner?! I could have left the bombers to them and hunted down the Black Bitch!”

I was screaming at this point and pounding on the cockpit wall. I wanted a rematch against the Black Witch. This was the third time that I had been denied my chance at revenge. And the third time because of higher priority targets. To say I was pissed was an understatement.

“Terresa, you need to calm down. I know you want Emily Calisto but you’re not going to get her thinking like this. The bombers were our number one priority this time. The same as the last time. And the time before that she just didn’t show. You have to think about what HER priorities will be. Then we can nail her ass. First though we need to get the Witch repaired.”

“And to do that we need to get our asses home first. Okay Lilly I got it.” I sighed. “Get us down in one piece and find some place to vent. Right now, I need a tall ice-cold beer and a cigarette. Did the base suffer any damage?”

“Two of the Vulcans got through Terresa. That’s the bad news. The good news is only one of the Earthquake bombs did any damage. The other bomb fell outside of the base defenses and only blew a great big hole in the desert. The one that did hit the base took out the old fighter hanger facilities. The runways are in full operation.”

“How did they get through Lilly? I mean between those Fire Support APSs and the ADA missile batteries they should have been shot down.”

“The ADA couldn’t use their radar guidance settings because of the New Texan Fu-4 Corsairs. They couldn’t pick out their Friend-Foe ids from the Amazons. By the time the ADA batteries could switch over to infrared it was too late. The Vulcans were over the base. The only Antiair defense that worked was line of sight. Like those AP Suits that came out to play with our friends.”

I thought about what Lilly said. It all made sense. Without having the New Texans’ FOF Ids they would have been sitting ducks for the Air Defense Artillery Missile Batteries of the base. It also explained why they hadn’t come into play during the aerial battle. With the number of aerospace fighters going head-to-head there was just too high of a chance for a friendly-fire accident. Thinking about the other fighters I had a very unsettling feeling.

“Lilly, of our fighters how many did we lose to the enemy?” I knew that I wasn’t going to like the answer. No matter how low the number was, we could not afford to lose even one fighter or pilot right now.

“All of the Fu-4s were shot down but they all managed to bailout at a safe altitude. The enemy force that was coming in from zero-one-zero was indeed a diversionary force. It consisted of one G1-0N Fugakus, one G8N Renzan, with an escort of ten Ki-64 Robs. The G10N and G8N were both carrying Skyshark Jamming packages. They’re setup to be the biggest target in the skies, Terresa. One so big that it drew off the majority of our defense fighters. If you had not tripped to the false-flag alert the real attack would have left nothing behind.”

“How bad do you think it could have been Lilly?”

“Terresa I have completed my analysis of the bomb loads for the Peacemakers and Vulcans. The base would have been hit by no less than thirty but no more than forty-six twenty-ton freefall bombs varying from standard HE to FA to Blockbuster. The lowest casualty rate would have been around forty-five percent with an upper end of eighty-five to ninety percent. As for the base itself, a total right off. Nothing would have survived.” Lilly got really quiet. “The Amazons will not let us survive Terresa. They have decided that total war is preferable to losing.”

I thought about what Lilly had predicted for the casualty rate and destruction of the base. “No Lilly. They have decided on a war of genocide. I just hope that somewhere out there in the dark is someone is trying to get a relief force in.”

Pirate Jump Point, Smallest Moon of New Texas

The fleet of nineteen Clipper Class dropships slow floated in place waiting for the last of the fleet to arrive. None of their transponders were operating. The owner of the shipping firm stood quietly facing the forward view screen of the dropship’s command deck. The owner knew that the nineteen dropships held the hopes of the Empress in their cargo holds. The hopes for victory and salvation of the people of New Texas. The blinding flash of light that announced the arrival of the last Clipper brought a smile of relief to the shipping firm’s owner. The slightly built woman was not known for her temper, but no one wanted to fail her, especially her captains.

No one in the firm knew where the loyalty of the captains to the owner came from. None of the crews ever tried to find out. The one time someone did ask about the deadly loyalty of the captains they were called into a private meeting with their captain. When that man came out he just told those who asked him what was said to go ask the captain. Ten days later that man was promoted to Second Mate on another dropship. The crew of his old ship thought he had been fired. Little did they know that he had been given the promotion as a reward for his own loyalty. That man now stood at the helm of the Cutty Sark. Only the captains and the owner knew where this loyalty and deep respect came from.

Oh, there were the usual rumors that surrounded most shipping firms. The most liked one though revolved around the owner’s time in the Military and her service to the Empress during the last War of Succession. The only problem anyone had with this one rumor was the fact that the captains could have never been criminals. One maybe two of the captains sure, but not all of them, let alone the Lady Lisa Stiles.

Lisa looked over at the Second mate. “Alright Jack. Send the order to the rest of the fleet. Time to deliver the package.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack Stone just pushed a button on his console, let the rest of the fleet know it was time for them to move out towards New Texas. It was time to drop twenty loads of pissed off mean bad ass teenagers on an unexpecting batch of dipshits and assholes. This was what Jack Stone and the rest of the captains had lived for over the last forty years. They all owed their lives to the Lady Lisa. Debts that can never be repaid. Yet, in all those years, whenever she asked them to put their lives on the line she was right there with them. Lady Lisa Stiles was never officially dubbed the title Lady and made a member of the Nobility but that didn’t matter in the minds of Jake and the other captains. TO them she had EARNED the title of Lady. And damned be anyone who says otherwise.

The sounds of small feet coming up behind her drew Lisa’s attention. Yet she didn’t take her eyes of the view port. “Mom, we’ll be over the planet in three hours. I figure we have maybe twenty minutes after that before the Amazon pick us up on their radar scans. After that we got another twenty minutes before they can scramble their fighters and another twenty before they can intercept us.”

Lisa never looked over at her son, Jimmy but just chuckled instead. “You have been spending too much time around your uncle Jack over there.”

Jack Stone just chuckled at his employer and friend. “HEY! Don’t put all the blame on me Lady Lisa. The rest of us have just as much a part in Jimmy’s education. If you want to talk about threat assessment blame that on Charlie.”

“Alright I will. Now, Jimmy just how accurate is your threat assessment?” Lisa knew that her son had to be wrong but would indulge him anyway.

“I’ll give you an over and under of five minutes on each part of my assessment for the Amazons, mom.” Jimmy smiled. “Want odds to go with that?”

Lisa quirked at her son’s sly smile. “What are you giving oh sweet son of mine?”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 15
T.O.C, White Sands R&D Center, New Texas
Carol Davenport was beyond pissed off. If there was an emotion for anger that passed blood letting carnage she was there. Fourteen heavy bombers and eight super heavy bombers had come within five miles of attacking HER base. The problem Carol had was how did those bombers get to New Texas and how did the Amazons get their hands on them. As she looked around at her Command Staff she could tell that they were just as confused as she was over this development. The only one who had the background to answer her questions was Colonel McManus.

“Talk to me here Mac. How in the Hell could those monsters even be here on New Texas? What would it take to get them here?”

McManus sighed. “The same way WE would have brought them ma’am. Factory class dropships.” Holding up his hand to stop her next question he went on to explain. “A Factory class dropship is a specially designed dropship, General. What happens is a heavy or super heavy bomber is first built at the factory. Then flown to the nearest spaceport. Once there their wings are removed, and the body is maneuvered into position for the dropship’s cranes to load on board, followed by the wings. After transit to the target planet the process is reversed with the loading cranes providing the needed lift to assemble the bombers.”

“How many bombers can one of these Factory dropships carry Colonel McManus?” Lieutenant Colonel Jacob Moreland demanded.

“Depends on the model, Moreland. For heavy bombers anywhere between eight to ten per dropship. The super heavy bombers, which are our biggest concern, four to six at most. Seeing as how Lieutenant Cole reported shooting down eight Peacemakers that is two full factory ships worth of bombers we don’t have to worry about.” McManus may not like Moreland personally but did respect him as an officer.

“Damn. I was hoping that you would say they could only bring in one of those bombers per ship.” Moreland grumbled.

“Sorry Jacob. I would love to be able to give that kind of good news. The real bitch is we don’t know how many more super heavy and heavy bombers the Amazons have. Before you ask why we don’t have something similar to fight back with don’t. None of the pilots on this base are qualified to fly heavy bombers, let alone super heavy bombers. Before you suggest that I use the crews from the Atlas’s you can throw that stupid idea out the door. It takes years and training to fly bombers that transport, and fighter pilots don’t have. It is just that simple.” McManus felt he needed to drive the point home that he wasn’t going to change his mind on the manufacturing facilities producing bombers instead of fighters.

“Then why is the manufacturing facilities producing one heavy bomber for each fighter and ground attack aircraft?” Asked Moreland. “I know that you order the production of the Strike Eagles due to the problems with the Claymores.”

“What are you talking about Colonel Moreland?” Davenport snapped. “I know those orders went out. I signed them myself.”

“Um… I went down to talk with the facilities manager to see if they could produce three Goliath transporters for the ones that were damaged during the first attack. I saw that one of the production lines was building some rather large aircraft. So I asked the man what those were. He told me honestly that they were B-32 Dominators. I didn’t think that you countermanded your order ma’am, so I asked who gave the order for those bombers to be built. The plant major just said it came from the Planetary Defense Force Command.” Davenport, McManus, and the other Command Staff just stood there in looking at Moreland like he had just grown a second head. “Did I just say something stupid or do I have something in my teeth?”

“No. You just answered why my people haven’t received their bloody damned fighters, Moreland.” McManus growled out as he turned towards CSM Southerland. “If I was you Sergeant Major Southerland I would start talking. You can start with who gave that order to override our need for fighters.”

Command Sergeant Major Southerland returned the hostile looks he was getting with one of his own. “I don’t know Colonel, but you can be sure that I’LL be getting to the bottom of it. If I had to guess though I would say it was that jackass Planetary Governor of ours. As it is he is the last remaining free member of our PDF Command.”

Davenport turned to McManus and Moreland. “Gentlemen get down to that facility and override those bomber orders. We need those fighters and ground attack craft now.”

“Won’t do any good General. That factory manager is a diehard Texan. You won’t change the production schedule for anyone but the Governor or higher. Not even you. I already tried.” Moreland explained.

“Someone find me the Prince and his lance mates. If that jackass wants a political powerplay let him try taking on the Crown Prince and his band of Outlaws.” The note of finality in Davenport’s voice let those gathered know how she expected the showdown to end. Only Southerland felt differently.

“Ma’am, it won’t matter. Ferguson has one too many of his cronies in place to override his damned orders for those bombers. He believes that his plan is the only way to go. He keeps talking about some dipshit he read about in ancient Earth History that was able to conquer half the European countries in less than three with just his air force and army. Which was smaller than the other nations’ standing militaries. He won’t listen to reason.”

From across the room Sergeant Major Bougus spoke up for the first time since the battle. “The sad part General is most of those cronies are in charge of over half our militia forces. Even if you can get your trainers out to the militia they won’t listen to your teams. They’ll just tell their men to ignore whatever the teams try to teach them. Most of those political cronies have too much money and clout tied up in land to just turn over control to outsiders. Even if those outsiders are trying to save their sorry asses.”

“Damn. Any more good news people?” Davenport snapped snidely.

“Of the eight members of one-twenty-seventh two are dead. We lost all eight Fu-4s. So, unless we can get that factory online building fighters we’re down to just the Strike Eagles and the one Claymore.” McManus told Davenport. Only to have the General sigh and give him a dirty look then wave for the rest of the report. “We are down to just eight Strike Eagles and the Claymore needs major repairs.”

“Lovely, just fracking lovely. Was Lieutenant Cole injured during the battle? How bad was the Claymore damaged?” Davenport asked.

“Lieutenant Cole landed safely ma’am. She is uninjured. Her fighter though is going to need extensive repairs. And about ten days away from her Chief.” McManus chuckled. “From what I heard when I walked the line Chief Warrant Office Daily was extremely pissed with his pilot for and I quote. ‘Bringing his little girl home with a bloody nose, scrapped knees, and a broken leg.’ It seems that the Lieutenant pushed her fighter to its limits and a little beyond taking out those bombers.”

The gathered Colonels just chuckled at McManus’s off colored joke about Terresa Cole and her flying. She was well known for pushing any bird in her care to the limits, often to the point of breaking them. Yet, the White Sands base owed that young brash pilot more than most would ever admit. McManus turned serious as he looked over at Davenport.

“Ma’am as much as I hate to say this we need more pilots like her if we’re going to win. Not just the fighters but actual pilots that have the same physical characteristics as her. Ma’am, in short we need Claymores to fly Claymores.”

Those words must have been magical as they summoned the one person who had that answer. Colonel Andria Cole stepped into the TOC with a grim but determined look on her face. She was not alone. Sylvia Cole, Colonel Marie Kelly, and Colonel Robert Rottweiler were right behind her. As the ranking officer Andria took charge. “General Davenport, we have the answer to AI-burnout and our need to replace our pilots. We cracked the problem ma’am.”

“HOW?!” Davenport demanded in total surprise.

“Not here ma’am, but we can finally produce a Second-Gen Death Dealer that can handle the speeds of an aerospace fighter without the worry of AI-burnout. In truth AI-burnout will now be a thing of the past for all of our military who use the Bio-AIs. As much as I want to take credit for this discovery it all goes to the hard work of Major Sylvia Cole, Colonels Kelly and Rottweiler, and most importantly Lieutenant Terresa Cole herself. If not for her insight into what pilots go through in normal flight operations, not to mention combat, and needs in a Bio-AI we would still be fighting with the problem.” Andria was looking at the two members of the Command Staff that were not Empyreal Military as she explained.

When Carol saw where Andria was looking during her explanation and wanted to kick herself in the ass. Because one way or the other the New Texans would sooner or later get their hands on the tech for making Death Dealer pilots. The reason for this was simple. They needed all human pilots and only the New Texans had them. That didn’t mean Colonel Andria Cole won’t do her damnedest to keep the lid on the tech for as long as possible. AS far as she was concerned the Texans were just as bad as the Amazons. That means their pilots could be facing off against her daughter. They may not be as experienced as Terresa, but enough numbers with overrun even the most hardened and enforced battle position. Andria just wasn’t going to give away her daughter’s one major advantage without holding something back.

“How long will it take to process the new pilots, Colonel Cole?” Davenport asked her. “I believe that we can trust our civilian counterparts.”

“Depends. How many volunteers do we have?” Andria didn’t bother with being polite. She was not about force one man or woman through what will be a very painful process. “You know that by Empyreal law only volunteers can undergo a Second-Gen upgrade General. I’ll not be party to forced conversions, and neither will my staff. I hope we have an understanding?”

“I understand Colonel. Full legal measures will be taken to ensure that no one is taken advantage of. Even if we have to retreat from New Texas and regroup. Then fight to retake the planet I will not break the law.” Davenport knew something was up with Andria Cole but not what. All Davenport knew was that the woman would force her hand on this matter as a Medical Professional. “By the way where is Lieutenant Cole, Colonel Cole? I expected that she would be here already.”

Andria chuckled. “She’s out looking for a bottle of Whiskey to bribe her Ground Crew Chief with. Something about bring her fighter back on a wing and a prayer. To be followed by a good deal of begging for forgiveness.”

Armored Power Suit Hanger
James looked around the hanger bay as the repair gantry lifted the replacement left arm weapons for his White Tiger into position. During the battle James and his lance had overheated their main guns to the point of replacement instead of repair. Then there were the cracked armor plates that would need to be replaced. His lance had claimed five of the seven Vulcan kills that day. The cracked armor came from the concussive force of the one bomb that was released near them. James still couldn’t believe that the Amazons were using Earthquake bombs.

“Hay, Jim!” James turned to his friend Steven and smiled. “Yo boss man, you got an extra cig on you man?”

James padded down the area of his bio-armor covering his chest. “Nope. All out.”

“Damn! That sucks! Now who am I gonna bum off of?” Steven wisecracked.

Heather and Derick Pike laughed at the antics of their lance’s two most eligible bachelors. Joseph Silver Leaf just shook his head at the two men he considered War Brothers. He often told his wife Tina that only a Silvan Elf would be good enough for his two brothers. Tina would just roll her eyes and tell Joseph that no she wasn’t playing match maker for either of the two men.

James just pointed over at Derick. “Go talk to the D man, bro. I know he keeps a pack or two in the cockpit.”

Heather just punched her husband and lance mate in the arm hearing this. “I thought you told me you were quitting?”

Derick shrugged his shoulders. “Hay give me a break here. It’s only been three months honey. Besides I only smoke now when I’m in the cockpit.”

Heather sighed and looked up at James. “Jim is there anything you can do this lug headed husband of mine?”

“Don’t look at me Heather. I told you five years not marry the block head.” The whole lance laughed at James’s joke about their long-time friend. Their laughing was brought to a stop by the appearance of the Claymore pilot. Joseph points over at her as she crossed the bay. James and the others turned and watch as the young woman walked into the maintenance office. “Think I should go save her from Chief Clancy, guys?”

“No James. Just stay here. If she can’t handle that crazy old bat on her own, then what is she going to do when she meets your mothers?” Heather asked truthfully. James turned and gave Heather a sharp almost cross look at hearing this. To which Heather just shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “Oh please, James. We all know how you feel about the little lady. We’ve seen you pinning away over her. Hell, those three jackasses started a pool on when you two first sleep together.”

“Ah my friends.” James sighed and gave the three men of his lance a dirty look. “You know something with friends like you guys, who needs enemies?”

Joseph just chuckled then sang out in a child like voice. “But we love you!”

To which the entire lance broke out laughing once again. Only to be stopped by the scream of rage that came from the maintenance office. “I DON’T CARE WHAT THAT MAN TOLD YOU LIEUTENANT! YOU GO BACK AND TELL DAILY HE CAN KISS MY ASS! I DO NOT OWE THAT FRACKING ASSHAT A BOTTLE OF WHISKEY! NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”

“Oh shit. She did not go in there looking for the Chief’s whiskey. Is she crazy or what?” Steven asked in shock.

Before anyone could answer his question, there was a second outburst from the office. “LOOK YOU OLD CRONE! I KNOW YOU GOT A FRACKING BOTTLE AROUND HERE SOME DAMNED WHERE! NOW I GOT TWEENTY-IMPIREAL GOLDS! HAND IT THE FRACK OVER BEFORE I GUT YOUR ASS!”

James didn’t waste time explaining he just tore off across the hanger bay towards the office. He knew that voice and the attitude that came with it. Especially when the owner of the voice was angry. The last time he had heard Terresa raise her voice in this manner a bartender ended up in the hospital. “Whoa! There ladies. Please let’s show some decorum here.”

James took a step back from the force of the two glares that were thrown his way by the two women. The thought of ‘Oh shit! I think I just walked into a minefield.’

Chief Clancy was the first to say anything. “Colonel Nakatoma, if you think sending your pet Claymore in here to get my whiskey is going to endear you to me. You can think again Colonel. My hanger, my office, my whiskey. Got it?”

“Damn Chief I didn’t send the Lieutenant in here for your whiskey.” James snapped.

“Wait. You didn’t send her in here. Then who did?” Clancy gave Terresa a short hard glare. “Well Lieutenant. Speak up already.”

“Damn it Chief Clancy I already told you. Chief Daily told me that I could get a bottle of shine off you. I got the twenty Imperial golds damn it.” Terresa was damned near pissed off as she held out the aforementioned gold note. “Now, can I please get that shine?”

Chief Clancy just chuckled and opened her file cabinet. Pulling out two half litter glass bottles holding a clear liquid from the middle draw. She set them on her desk and took the twenty-gold note from Terresa. Then with a smile. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

Terresa just sighed took the two bottles and turned to leave. As she walked passed the lance of APS pilots Terresa was grumbling to herself. “Mean, rotten, stubborn assed, crotchety old lady. No wonder Chief Daily sent me to get his bottle. He did it just to punish me for letting the Witch get hurt. Like I had a choice for taking on a squadron of B-thirty-six Peacemaker super heavy bombers. The damned things are flying battleships for fracks sake.”

James took a few seconds to have Stephen access the specs on the B-36 super heavy bomber. He opened a connection to the others and sent them the specs. Of them all only Heather could put their feelings into words and actions. “Chief Clancy, we’ll take another four bottles of that shine.”

“That’ll be forty-gold credits, ma’am. Not a penny less.” Chief Clancy grinned.

“Can I pay you tomorrow?” Heather asked. “I don’t exactly have my purse with me.”

“Make it fifty and you can run a tab.”

“I’ll cover it, the whiskey Chief, and pay the fifty. Just hand over the bottles.” James said quickly. He just stood there as the Chief Clancy thought about his offer before nodding her head and getting the requested bottles. After passing out the four bottles James turned to the rest of the lance and Terresa. “Come on people. I know a good spot to get our drunk on. One, that ensures we’ll be left alone. Care to join us Lieutenant Cole?”

Terresa looked at the other members of James’s lance. For the first time she realized that if she was going to be with James she needed to get used to Nobility. Taking a deep breath Terresa smiled up at James. “I would be honored sir. Can we drop this one bottle off with my Chief before we go anywhere else?”

The Wild Cards just chuckled. Joseph smiled over at Terresa. “Don’t worry Lieutenant, we all know what it is like to have a maintenance Chief that believes your fighter belongs to them and not you. Why Chief Clancy thinks that our AP Suits are her children. You should be around here after we’ve danced with the enemy and had the paint peeled. You would think we had murdered her first-born child.”

“Go on and get, you rowdy pack of hooligans.” Chief Clancy called out after the six officers as the crossed to the hanger doors. Once they were out of earshot she turned to the crew working on the Prince’s White Tiger. “Morgan, Stone, how much longer on the Tiger?”

“Two to three hours Chief. Sorry but we’re going as fast as we can.” The taller of the two shouted back.

“Let Clark and Lewis finish that up for you. Before you bitch, don’t. Grab your tool boxes and haul your asses over to the flight line. Find Chief Daily and tell him you’re there to give him a hand with that fighter of his.” As the two men finished moving the replacement main gun weapons for the left arm into position and secured their tools Chief Clancy grabbed two more bottles of her family’s moonshine out of her cabinet. Walking back out to the hanger bay she stopped her two mechanics as they climbed into a ground transport. “Boys listen to me closely. That Lieutenant didn’t know how bad the damage was to her fighter.”

“What are you talking about Chief? Every pilot knows just how far they have pushed their craft. It doesn’t matter if it is an APS or aerospace fighter.” Morgan said bluntly.

“Morgan you, dumb ass. Chief Daily wouldn’t have sent her over here just for a bottle or two of shine. That fancy assed fighter took on eight B-thirty-six bombers at altitude. That little lady put her ass on the line big time. He needs all the help he can get to make repairs on her fighter. Do as he tells you, do the first time, and do it right. Understand?” Clancy knew the moment Terresa Cole asked for a bottle of whiskey for Chief Daily that the young Lieutenant’s fighter was in a bad way. Everyone on base had heard about her fight with the bombers. Only the Ground Crews knew just how close her battle had come to ending the young Lieutenant’s life in the skies over White Sands.

The two mechanics just salute their Chief and took off across the base. Clancy returned to her office and called the Chiefs to her office. When they had arrived, Clancy gave it to them straight. “Whoever can spare the personnel needs to send them over to the flight line. We got ourselves a code Whiskey Sara.”

When Clancy used the code phrase among Chief Warrant offices for a truly screwed up situation the others just nodded their heads. Twenty minutes later several medium sized cargo transports raced across the base towards the flight line. In the cargo beds was everything the mechanics and ground crews would need to repair the aerospace fighters that they could lay their hands on.

Bunker 18, inner defense perimeter.
The six young officers had just sat down under camo-netting that hung between the support poles and spreaders when a private first class came running up. “Colonel Nakatoma you’re needed back at the TOC.”

James just sighed and stood up while waving for Terresa to stay where she was. “Stay here, Terresa. I have a feeling this one of those times that I have to put on my stupid fracking crown for some shit stick politician.” With that he turned and waved for the PFC to lead the way. Leaving behind a stunned and bewildered Terresa Cole to the tender mercies of his oldest friends.

Heather was the first to break the ice with the young Lieutenant. “Okay, Lieutenant, rule one in the bunker. There is no rank, Military or otherwise. Rule two, you get caught with two pairs and a good bluff you buy the next round. Rule three, the use of Nobile titles is strictly forbidden. Rule four, what get said here, happens here, stays here. Rule five when in doubt refer to rules one and four. There now that the arbitrary introduction for the rules has been given. What do you want us to call you?”

Terresa just sat there staring at Major Heather Pike in stunned silence for a few seconds before shaking her head. “Um… Sorry about that, ma’am. Um… I guess you can just call me Terresa. If what you just said was true.”

Steven just chuckled. “Oh it’s true Terresa. James was the one to put the rules in place for the Bunker. I swear he hates hearing his titles more than anyone I know of, with the exception of his mothers.”

“You should see the look on your face Terresa.” Derick busted out laughing. A long with the other members of the Wild Cards. “Trust us Terresa, the Empress and the War Princess, absolutely hate hearing all their titles read off at some stupid State function. I think it takes between ten to fifteen minutes for the Herald to get through them all for the both of them.”

“I timed it the last time we got roped into attending a State Dinner as escorts for Jimmy. It took exactly twelve minutes and forty-four seconds. The shortest recorded announcement in the history of the Empire. I think it had something to do with the death glare Empress Maiha was giving the poor bastard.” Chuckled Joseph.

“Nope. It was that losing hand she had just before the diner started, Joe. If I’m not mistaken you had a straight to her three of a kind. How much did you win? A buck-fifty or so?” Derick pointed out with a smile.

The more Terresa heard these four Nobles talk about their ties with the Prince and his mothers the more aghast she became. They were acting like it was nothing for them to be in front of the Empress one minute, and the next sitting down playing poker with her. The three men were laughing while Heather just placed her hand on the unsettled younger woman. When Terresa looked over at her Heather smiled.

“Terresa, trust me on this, don’t let these three yahoos get to you.” At Terresa’s blank look Heather just explained. “Look, we’ve been around James for most of our lives. I know that this is a shock to you but this just us being us. No titles, no rank, just five good friends clowning around having a good time. So just relax and enjoy the hooch. Besides, this is the Chief’s good stuff.”

“You can say that again. I thought I was going to shit a brick when she pulled out the top shelf shine like that. What I want to know is how does the newbie rate the good stuff on the first go around.” Steven asked with a smile.

“All I did was tell Chief Clancy that Chief Daily sent me to get a bottle of shine off her. That was when she just blew her top at me. That is when you guys came in.” Terresa answered with a quirk of her lips.

Steven had placed five glasses on the table and was pouring single shots of whiskey into each one along with fruit juice. “I know it seems like sacrilege but trust us. You don’t want to drink the Chief’s shine straight. The last person to do that ended up seeing pink unicorns and purple leprechauns.”

Terresa took her first drink of the mix and thought the top of her head was going to come off. Coughing to get over the sudden attack on her senses. She whizzed out between breaths. “Damn! That shit has a kick!”

After everyone had taken a few drinks Heather broached the topic that had been on the minds of the Wild Cards. “Say Terresa, can you answer a question for us?”

“I’ll try, Heather. That is all I can promise.”

“Why are aerospace pilots still using the old First-Gen bio-AIs? I mean we all know that the Second-Gens are faster and more powerful.” Heather’s question had caught Terresa off-guard, but she knew that these five people had earned the truth.

“AI-burnout.” That one phrase brought a round of gasps from the APS pilots. To them AI-burnout was a myth. “It all has to do with the speeds at which we fly. You guys got to remember that when we go head-to-head with other fighters we don’t hold back on our speeds. Our fighters can do Mach two or better. At those speeds tracking a target takes more than just a computer, it takes the human element to coordinate the information. It takes more than just an AI that can track a target, it has to regulate the engines, track where threats are in a three-D battlefield, prioritize those threats, and so much more. That is one of the reasons why aerospace pilots are still using the First-Gens. They’re not as susceptible to burnout like the Second-Gens are. Sure the Second-Gens seem like the answer form a ground pounder’s point of view, but how often do your targets move at Mach 1?”

“The only time they do that is when they are flying overhead. Even then if they’re going that fast we normally just leave them alone. The main reason is they’re moving too fast to get hard target locks on us and us on them.” Derick pointed. Only to have Terresa give him a bright smile as he pointed out the one difference between the two vastly deferent pilots. “Ah shit! Now it makes sense. When ever we engage airborne targets, they’re moving sure but not so fast that we can’t track them. You guys have to slow down to engage ground targets, don’t you?”

“Got it in one, Derick. The only exception to that is on a strafing run. If we have a pinpoint target we have to slow down to deliver the ordnance on target correctly. Even then if we’re too fast we over shoot, too slow we fall short. Only air-to-ground missiles insure a better than ninety percent accuracy. Anything else you have one too many variables at play.” Terresa reached into her flight suit’s pants pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. After taken one out she passed the pack over to Steven with a smile. “I overheard you bitching about not having any on you. I know they’re Blacks but they were all I could get my hands on.”

After lighting up and taking a deep drag Terresa handed her lighter over to Steven as he returned her cigarettes. “The real killer for pilots is not other fighters, but what we call the ‘golden bullet’. That’s when we get careless. We let our concentration wander during normal flight operations or get distracted during combat by going for what appears to be a ‘sure kill’. That’s when that one unforeseen element jumps up and bites us in the ass. When human error gets you killed.”

“Damn you got a cold hard point of view there Terresa. Do all pilots think like that?” Steven asked of her before taking a drink.

“Pretty much Steven.” Terresa took a drink and a drag off her cigarette. “There are two rules that all pilots learn on their first day of flight training. The first is takeoffs are optional but landings are mandatory. The second is the five and seven rule. Those are the first five minutes of flight and the last seven minutes of flight. Those are the most dangerous times of any flight. You lose your concentration during those thirteen minutes and you’re dead.”

“Shit! Screw that crap! Give me a good old fashioned head-to-head APS fight.” Derick swallowed hard at hearing these two rules.

“You can say that again, brother. I never knew that being an aerospace pilot could be so damned dangerous.” Joseph like the others took a big drink of his whiskey.

“Say, Terresa, do you happen to know why James got pulled away the way he did? I mean normally the General lets us have a few hours before chewing out his ass for doing something stupid. You know like stepping out onto a battlefield or taking on stupid assed odds. You know, stuff like he did today, that saved a lot of lives.” Heather smirked. It was like an old song for these nobles.

Terresa scratched her head for a minutes then took a deep drag off her cig. “The only thing I can think of would be for his political clout.”

“Okay, what do you know that we don’t Lieutenant?” Derick growled.

“The manufacturing facilities have been listening to the Planetary Governor. Not to the General Staff. I’ve already had more than one run in with the man since this war started trying to get parts for the Witch. Last time I was down there I saw the production line putting out heavy bombers instead of the fighters that were ordered. When I tried to correct the order, the manager told me that he answered to the Planetary Governor and not the military. I think that the situation has finally reached the General and she is pulling out her ace in the hole.” Terresa answered.

“What are you talking Terresa?” Heather wanted to know.

“Shortly after the first attacks, General Davenport order the production of twenty new F-fifteen Strike Eagles, and twelve FB-eleven Claymores. Well, that Governor Ferguson ordered that before any of those fighters get built thirty-two heavy bombers get built and delivered to the New Texans. The problem is nobody knew about that order. So, while we have been waiting for those desperately needed fighters the factory has been building bombers instead.”

“For the love a god! Why the hell would the man do that? Why would he cut our defense down like that?” Joseph want to know.

“Politics, Joe.” All eyes turned towards where James now stood having returned from the TOC. “Ferguson was looking at this war as his way into the Governor’s Office for life. From what CSM Southerland told me. He thinks he is the Military Commander for the New Texans until we can get the real military leaders out of that super max. Which ain’t going to be happening any time soon. Those nuke strikes I told you about. They were in response to the gorilla tactics the locals have been using in the cities. Instead of following the orders Davenport handed out for them to lay low, Ferguson had them stepping up their attacks.”

“Well ain’t that a real kick in the ass.” Derick bitched. “Just fracking normal. Some political hack, more worried about his next campaign run for office, goes and damned near destroys our best chances at winning. All so he can strut around calling himself the Great Savior or some bullshit. Did you at least shoot the shithead?”

“No. And before you go chewing me out we still need the fracker. What I can’t figure out is why are the River Sluts pushing this fight so hard? I mean they could have sat back and let the courts hand them the planet.” James reached over and pored himself a drink then joined the rest at the table. Pointing at the pack of Winchester Blacks. “Can I get one of those?”

Terresa just smiled and waved at the pack. “Be my guest. I think I can give you guys a little perspective on why the River Sluts are pushing so hard.” When all five Nobles were looking at her, Terresa took a deep draw on her cigarette and put it out. “They need the resources of this planet more than their High Council wants to let on. You have to remember that they produce batches of clones in the thousands every month. They have based their whole society on birthing factories. They can populate an entire planet in just ten years.”

“Wait a minute here Terresa. We all know that a person has to be, by law, at least twenty-one to out-migrate to a frontier planet. Sure, the Amazons could produce millions of babies in ten years but none of them will be old enough to migrate.” Heather tried to shutdown where Terresa was going.

“You forget that cloning is LEGAL within the Amazon Collective. They can produce fully grown ADULTS in just twenty-seven months. With a few doctored records they have a full colonization force ready to go. As for why the River Sluts want New Texas in particular that’s easy. This planet was terraformed to be an agricultural planet. In short, a giant food factory. The River Sluts have out stripped their current agricultural planets to feed their populations.” As Terresa laid everything out for the Nobles she could tell that they had never thought about starvation as being the reason behind the war. After all, with the advent of the agricultural planets, the threat of starvation was a thing of myth and legend now.

Terresa could see the thoughts running through the minds of her current companions. “Frontier Planets don’t always have the access to agricultural planet food stuffs on a steady basis. Those of us that grew up on these planets learn to live off the land and do for ourselves. So, the thought of starving is a very real concern to us. Now when you have thousands, no tens of thousands of people starving, you have all the makings for a revolution.” Terresa took out another cigarette and fixed herself a second drink before lighting up.

“Wait, what about all the people that aren’t Amazon? Where do they come in?” James asked. He knew that Terresa had studied the problem far more than he and the others had already. He knew that she was on to something here. She may very well do more than just give the Empire the answer for AI-burnout.

“Simple. Eviction or extinction. The New Texans will either be given the choice of leaving the planet or having their genetic code ‘enrolled’ as part of the Amazon populace. The second one is not done voluntarily.” Terresa blew smoke over the table and took a deep drink from her glass. “If you guys and the General Staff haven’t figured it out yet. This is a war of annihilation. One being waged by the River Sluts. We either get out of the way or kill every last fracking one of them.”

“You have missed something daughter. The Amazons need this planet for more than just its agricultural production ability. How do you think they keep their genepool selection from becoming stagnant?” All six of the young pilots turned to the sound of the voice behind them. There stood Colonel Andria Cole. “Have you forgotten my lessons on cloning and inbreeding?”

At Terresa’s sheepish look Andria sighed. “You have, haven’t you. Very well, pour me a glass of that hooch and pass me one of those Blacks. It’s time for a fast lesson in human history.” Once Andria had the requested cigarette and drink she took a seat on an empty ammo crate that was handy. “Tell me Colonel Nakatoma, what do you know about the early days of space exploration?”

“Not much really ma’am. Just what every child gets taught in primary and secondary school. Sometime around twenty years after the end of the third World War the United Nations started sending out deep space probs. When those probs started to send back reports of earth like planets the race to colonize them was on.” James rattled off what he had been taught in school only to see the face of Colonel Cole turn sower. “I take it that I missed something major there, Colonel Cole?”

“Indeed, you did, Colonel Nakatoma. In truth, most of what you just said was a highly glossed over and cleaned up version of our history.” Taking a deep draw off her cigarette Andria Cole leaned back some. “As we all know the Third World War ended around the end of the twenty-fifth century and the UN did send out those deeps space probes. That is only half the story. The other half is what was done to fill those first colony ships. You have to remember that the human race had not yet discovered Hyper-Fold Space or Subspace depending on who you talk to. The only way to travel between the stars was aboard Ion Drive Starships. Which as we know takes a good deal of time to get up to speed. The first ships that left for the stars were not filled with true volunteers. Not by a long shot. Most of those long-haul ships were filled with criminals.”

At the stunned looks Andria just took another drink of her hooch. “That’s right people. Instead of asking for volunteers, the governments of the world cleaned out their prisons and filled those ships with criminals in hyper-sleep tanks. Most of those ships were never heard from, nor seen again. Only one out of every ten of those Ion Ships ever made it their destination.”

“How barbaric. Was the unrest really that bad following the war, ma’am?” Heather asked.

“Worse than that Major Pike. The problem is no one really knows how bad it was as too many of our records were destroyed during the reconstruction period. It was during this time frame that the first of the Generation Ships were launched. Most of these ships were sponsored by the UN.” Andria took another cigarette and fixed herself a second drink. She really didn’t like to think about this next part in history. As it showed that no matter how hard humanity tries, there will always be a pack of raging phoebes out there somewhere.

“It was decided, by this august body, that the best way to ensure that peace regained was for the more radical factions of humanity to be the first ones to leave earth. They literally forced hundreds of thousands of people on board those ships then launched them. Only half of those ever made their destinations. They started with the religious sects and worked their way down to the militant political radicals.” Only Terresa had ever heard this part of humanities history. For the others, even thought they were Nobles, had never heard of these ships. “It was one of these ships that founded the Amazon home world. You have to understand that the Amazon home world is one of the oldest colonies of old Earth Prime. It was also one of the first worlds to be founded after the discovery of Hyper-Fold Space.”

“Ma’am. Why is it that the Amazons practice cloning?” Joseph asked Andria.

“They lost over sixty percent of their seed population in the first year, Major Silver Leaf. The Amazons, believe it or not, started off as very peaceful people. The problem was, there were too many other factions that felt they were a danger to the morals of society and a bunch of other bullshit. It was these attitudes that pushed for the Amazons to leave Earth Prime. They took some of Earth’s leading scientist with them at the time. It was those scientists that saved their race. That was were the cloning came about. They did it to save their race.” Andria Cole could tell that she had the undivided attention of the younger officers.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Why didn’t they just stop cloning once they reconnected with the rest of humanity? Don’t they need fresh gene stock to keep their race from dying?” Heather really wanted to hear the answer to this.

“They broke the four-generation variance in the second generation of clones. AS for why they didn’t stop clone the answer is simple. At some point the Amazons learned the secrets of genetically programed citizens. Their whole society was based on a Class System, with the High Families or Pure Born at the top. Each Class has their assigned duties. They have whole Blood lines that do nothing but one thing. Let me give you an example. Right now, we face only their Warrior Class, a few of their Educational Class, and a mere handful of their High Class. These are only three of the seven Classes within the Amazon Society. To the Amazons the waste of life is among Classes not designed for a specific purpose is abhorrent. Before you point to the nuclear attacks as a contradiction to this philosophy. You need to remember that the ‘random mixing’ of genes is an even greater sin. For them the way the rest of the Empire reproduces is considered an act against natural selection.” Andria could tell that the younger officers were truly stunned by these revelations.

“Um… mom, how is it that you know so much about the Amazons?” Terresa asked.

“Six years ago, while I was working with the Worlds Health Organization the group I was with responded to a Planetary Health Emergency Signal. It came from Caledon five, an Amazon controlled planet. When we arrived, we were only allowed to treat certain people while whole towns were left to die. I wanted to treat everyone, but the planetary government would only let us treat the ones they decided on. All the while saying that the lower Classes and free born were expendable.” Andria finished off her drink then spit on the ground. “The Empire should be allowed to wipe the Amazon Society from our history, but genocide is against our ethics.”

“And we get to deal with eighteen divisions, four full Naval battle groups, nine aerospace fighter squadrons, and who knows how many bomber squadrons. All filled with genetically programed fanatical soldiers. All of whom would rather die a glorious death than accept surrender. All because surrender means the same thing as dying in battle. Does that about sum things up Colonel?” Derick asked Andria.

“In a nutshell Major, yes.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 16
Clipper Class Dropship Cutty Sark low orbit
Lisa and the Cutty Sark led the other nineteen Clipper class dropships in low and fast over the southern desert of New Texas. She knew that her small fleet of civilian cargo carriers were no match for military spec aerospace fighters or warships. Her twenty dropships are filled with two full regiments of Tatiana’s Children of the Stars. It was at Empress Maiha’s request that the Queen of High Winds, Dana Silver Leaf, sent two or her finest regiments in support of the Death Dealers on New Texas. Just as Lisa owed Maiha more than she could repay, Dana too owed the Empress for her own second chance.

“T-minus five to the outer marker for the drop-zone, Lady Lisa.” Stone called out.

“Thank you, Jake. Any response from the River Sluts yet?” Lisa asked. Only to have Jimmy chuckle from behind her. “Okay Jimmy, what have we missed?”

“The dark side of the moon, momma. We came in on the dark side of the moon. It gave us another fifteen maybe twenty minutes of cover before the Amazon Air Defense could identify and respond to our presence.” As Lisa’s son Jimmy explained what he and the C-n-C officer missed, the flight crew started to laugh.

Lisa looked over at Jimmy. “Well damn. I should have taken those odds and placed a bet. Now that we know, how long of a time frame before they can react?”

“At our current speed and altitude. Let’s see.” Jimmy had taken out his pad and stylist. After a few seconds Jimmy looked up at his mother. “We’ll drop all twenty payloads and clear the atmosphere before the first of their fighters can clear the runways. We’ll reach jump altitude ten minutes after that and be clear of the system by the time our passengers have formed up into their individual units.”

“How close are your calculations Jimmy?” Lisa asked with a smile knowing that she hadn’t been wrong in her own calculations earlier. She had considered the effect that coming in from the dark side of the moon would have on the operation. Now, she just wanted to know how close her son could get with all the facts.

“Now, that I have taken in the effect of the dark side. I should say that the fleet will be out of the system and clear by more than fifteen minutes.” Jimmy looked at his mother hoping he had gotten the figures correct.

“You’re close Jimmy. In fact, very close but you have to take into account the time it takes for the jump engines to come on line. That adds in another five minutes. You also need to add in the fact that we won’t be going out the way we came in. This is something else you need to consider. With your extra fifteen-minute window we’ll just barely be clearing the system. Remember, the first rule of smuggling my son. Never go back out the way you came in.” Lisa smiled as Jimmy face palmed at the reminder. He knew what his mother was talking about.

“Lady Lisa, T-minus one minute to the outer marker.” Jake Stone called out.

“Open the outer doors. All hands to combat stations. Prepare for drop.” Lisa ordered in a clear and commanding tone. Her voice conveyed none of the trepidation she felt or excitement that boiled just below she professional demeanor. Lisa never took her eyes off the drop clock. “Is the Baba Yaga alongside Jake?”

“All ships are running in two-by-two formation, Lady Lisa. Only the Witchcraft and Witch of the Sea are running in single file. As according to plan.” Jake Stone had to smile at the woman who was the true Captain of the Cutty Sark.

“Then sound the final warning, Jake.” Lisa ordered then waited as the heavy klaxon sounded throughout her ship. When the drop clock reached zero Lisa called out. “Drop! Drop! Drop!” then waited for the first thud of the drop capsules leaving their launch tubes. Over the next ten minutes a steady stream of drop capsules separated from the two lead ships blanketing the desert floor seventy miles from the White Sands Research and Development Center.

Once the lead ships had cleared the drop zone, the next two ships passed overhead dropping their cargos. Four troops worth of FAVs rained down from the cargo holds of the two ships. As they climbed to clear the drop zone the parachutes for the FAVs opened lowering the vehicles gently to the ground. With each pass more and more of the two regiments’ equipment was delivered to New Texas. When the last two Clippers made their runs dropping the twenty-four PzKpfw-V Panthers the drop zone was clear of the 8 troops of FAVs, 4 troops IFVs and 2 troops of self-propelled artillery pieces. As each dropship dropped its cargo it rushed towards the stars of the night skies and the freedom they offered.

Lisa Stills knew that they were not in the clear. The enemy fighters and warships were now rushing to catch them before they jumped out of the system. Away from their anger. Into the welcoming arms of the Empyreal Naval force that was gathering in the one system that only a fool would dare to attack. Not even with five times their current fleet would the Amazons dream of attacking this system. She held her breath until the jump gates formed in front of her small fleet of Clippers. Almost as one, the twenty fastest cargo dropships disappeared from the NCS and into history. No one would know of the part that Still Unlimited Shipping would have in the war for Independence of New Texas. Not even those who would be affected the most, the New Texans themselves. Not that Lisa cared. For her, getting out of the system with all of her people whole and healthy was worth more than recognition.

She may have stepped over the law every now and then, but she never really profited from her less than legal shipping runs. Nor did her captains and crews. To them smuggling was done to bring in needed medical supplies and at times Special Operations Teams to human planets still under the control of enemy nations. This was nothing more than an extension of those same shipping contracts.

Fighter Command and Control, Bella Rosh, New Texas
“Someone better start explaining how we could lose two full bomber squadrons to enemy fighters and antiaircraft fire. Where the Hell was our fracking fighter cover? What happened to the ground attack fighters for the triple-A? Why haven’t any of our pilots or bomber crews been recovered?” When no one answered Supreme Commander Von Bencher he also became enraged. “I am waiting for answers here people!”

“Sir, we’re still trying to analyze the data. If you’ll please give us a few more hours. I’m sure that we’ll have your answers.” One of the C-n-C techs pegged. She knew that as a lowly Technician the Supreme Commander could have her and the whole staff of the C-n-C recycled. After all they weren’t front line troops or members of the Educational Class. Off to one side Emily Calisto just shook her head.

Of all the officers, only she had been against the foolish plan to attack White Sands with the heavy bombers. She knew that they didn’t have the proper number of fighters to provide escort cover. That they were even able to get close to the base was a miracle. Not even she could have foreseen how heavy the triple-A fire would be. At first it was just that lance of Fire Support APSs, but they were quickly augmented by the bases own antiair missile defense system. It didn’t matter that she had tried to warn the Supreme Commander and his staff. She knew that the base would be heavily defended by the Imperials.

Then there were those damned fighters of the Imperial scum. One on one, they would win every time against her Flight’s KV-81s. The Strike Eagles were just a far superior fighter in every way. It was only by attacking in pairs that they were able to even the odds. In the long run though it didn’t matter. They were still able to hold them off while that twin tailed devil destroyed the B-36 Peacemakers. If not for that fighter and its pilot the plan might have worked. Yet, she and the High Command have constantly under estimated the pilot’s skills and the fighter’s firepower. What she couldn’t figure out was why that base was so important. Her plan for orbital bombardment had been rejected repeatedly.

“Supreme Commander Von Bencher, may I please submit my plan for orbital bombardment of the base at White Sands?” Emily knew that her plan would be shot down again. Yet this was her chance at getting a straight answer for why that base is so important to the High Command.

“Once again, Flight Leader Calisto, the answer is no. We need that base. Do not bring up that plan again. Understood?” Von Bencher snapped.

“Esteemed, Commander, I have only proposed the plan as a way of removing that base from the Imperialists’ war effort. Surely that base cannot be that critical to our own war effort. After all, our supply lines haven’t been interrupted in the same manner as theirs has. The Empyreal Naval threat has been limited. We own the system jump points. Only the jump gate itself is controlled by the Empyreal Fleet. Even now five more of our medium class Carriers are inbound with replacement fighters, bombers, and ground attack craft. By this time tomorrow we will outnumber the Empyreal forces twelve to one in the air. We do not need that base.”

Von Bencher sighed in frustration. He knew that Flight Leader Calisto would not back down unless he could give her a valid reason for not bombing that base from orbit. He also knew that by rights she could demand an answer from him as a fellow High Born. She could even Challenge him to a duel of Equals.

“A moment of your time outside Flight Leader.” Victor waved for her to join him outside of the Command Center. Emily knew that this was important and did as asked. Once outside Victor turned to her. “Calisto, I know that you believe we currently have the advantage here but we don’t.”

“I don’t understand sir. Those Carriers are coming, aren’t they?” Emily was truly at a loss for words and understanding.

“Yes, Flight Leader they are coming along with five more heavy armored divisions, but they are the only relief we will be receiving. As for why that base is so damned important. Our military needs the research data stored there. Along with that base’s manufacturing capabilities.” Von Bencher looked around their base. “What has been kept from you, and the rest of the Collective, is our society is dying. Do you remember a few years ago when the Killion seven Birthing Factories failed?”

“Everyone remembers that sir. It was reported as being little to nothing more than a minor malfunction. With a minimal lose of worker clones.” Like all High Borns, knew about the failure on Killion seven.

“It was more than what was reported, Flight Leader. The truth of the matter is, we lost over seven years of production. Seven full generations of workers, with no way of replacing them. All because of a shortage in Casper Crystals. Our failed takeover attempts on New Holland twenty-five years ago led to us being at the mercies of those greedy free birthing minor scum. Because of that shortage and the resulting loss of clones our society is now short tens of thousands of the worker class. A shortage that we cannot replace without outside genetic material. The people of New Texas have the right genetic mix to replace those lost clones.”

“Now that I understand the reason for wanting New Texas and its citizens, sir. I still don’t see why that base is so important. Surely with the eighteen divisions already planet side and the additional five divisions, plus those five medium class Carrier to augment the four Super Carriers. We should have more than enough to conquer this planet. Why are we even trying to capture that base? To do so is nothing more than a waste of life, sir.” Emily wanted more than a recent history lesson for why that base had to be captured.

“Because, once we have conquered this planet Flight Leader, we need the base to hold it. Those carriers and I mean all of them, plus twenty of those twenty-three divisions will be needed elsewhere. The High Council knows that the Empress will not let us just take this system or any other by force and walk away. She will send her Death Dealer divisions for the heads of our leaders. Until now, we have been able to use the laws and the courts to gain control over the planets that we have needed. Our banks and their lawyers have always had the credits to tie down any opposition. That is not the case here on New Texas. Somehow these free breeders have managed to build fortunes that rival any High Family in the inner Empire. To be blunt Flight Leader Calisto, New Texas has to be taken or our society will collapse. Not only is it important as a food planet but for the genetic stock and natural resources. Which we will need to fuel and build our military forces to fight those damned Death Dealer divisions. To do that we need that base. Now do you understand why that base is so important?” Von Bencher was getting irritated with Emily and her lack of foresight.

The more Emily heard the more she realized that this wasn’t just about securing another planet for the Collective. This war was about the very survival of her people and their way of life. Then a thought occurred to Emily that until now had only ever been wishful thinking at best. “Surely the High Council would not be so ignorant to go so far to challenge the Empress herself.”

“For the past thirty years the High Council has been working in secret to build our military using the threat of pirates. More than two thirds of the Parliament have been replaced with clones. Clones that are loyal only to Amazon.” As much as Von Bencher knew that he needed to keep certain information secret. He also knew that he needed the skills of the woman in front of him just as much. Her loyalty may be preprogramed, her sharing of Intelligence and her keen analytic mind wasn’t. She could very well keep a critical detail that he missed in a plan that could cost him his life. The High Council had already given more than one recycle order. “Of all the Sectors, High Families, and Coalitions within the Empire. Ours has the largest private military force, and the best trained of them all. Only the Empyreal Military is larger or better trained. Yet they are spread throughout the Empire and concentrated along the broader systems. So, yes the High Council believes they can challenge the Empress and the Empire.”

“So we either win here or face total annihilation. Is that what you’re saying sir?” Emily could not believe what the Supreme Commander had just told her. When he nodded his head yes Emily wanted to scream. “Then I shall double my endeavors to bring us victory Supreme Commander Von Bencher. Will the use of nukes be withheld?”

“Yes. We will not be using nuclear weapons again. The destructive power of those weapons does not outweigh their political fallout. Not even all of our puppets in Parliament can overlook the use of nukes again and still keep the full weight of the Empyreal Military out of this fight.” Von Bencher didn’t want to tell Emily that the real reason for not using nukes was so there would be more Texans for capture. Even now five cities had been completely evacuated.

Those populations were just clearing the outer jump points of New Texas’ largest moon. Within the month those people would no longer exist. In their place would be the first of the new worker drones, officer workers, and warriors to replace the ones lost in the battle for New Texas. They would never know of their origins or their true ties to this planet.

Before Emily could say more a Technician ran out the door to the TOC. “Supreme Commander, Emergency Message from the Forward Listening Post over the north pole. Twenty unknown and unregistered dropships just made a high-speed pass over the desert just south of White Sands, sir. We’re still trying to isolate the reasons behind this, sir. We should have more information once the Interceptor fighters bring one or two of them down sir. We scrambled two full squadrons in response sir.”

Emily just sighed then turned to the Technician. “Technician Gallows go back inside and recall those fighters. They’ll never reach those dropships in time before they jump back out. If they could make a highspeed pass over the southern desert of the White Sands area, they are already long gone.”

“How dare you presume to give that order?! Gallows send the order to our Fleet to intercept those dropships. Now!” Von Bencher snapped.

“Sir. That will be both a waste of our resources and time.” Emily held up her hand to forestall the on coming outburst. When Von Bencher nodded for her to continue. “For such a fleet of dropships to make a drop the way these have they have to be Clipper class. Sir, none of our dropships can even hope to match the speeds of a Clipper class dropship. By the time our dropships get off the ground those twenty ships will have reached their jump points and be long gone, sir.”

Von Bencher sighed as he realized that Emily was not so much giving orders to allow the enemy fleet to escape but to save much needed resources. She knew and understood the situation far better than he did. After all she was a pilot. Unlike in the rest of the Empire the Amazons trained their pilots to fly everything from fighters to dropships. If she said that it would be a waste to send their warships after the fleeing enemy dropships, then it was a waste.

“Tell me something Flight Leader Calisto. How would you increase our planetary defenses? IS there any way for that matter?”

Emily thought about what Von Bencher was asking. She began to put together a plan of action. It didn’t take her long to figure out what she would need. “Sir, the only way we can truly stop these types of smuggling runs is to ring the planet with a constant flight of heavy fighters. Which we do not have, nor would it be practical. Even if we had one of the super Carriers stationed in high orbit to refuel and rearm the fighters. The pilots still need food, water, and rest. The stress of nonstop flight operations will take its toll in the long run.”

“So there really isn’t a fix for the smuggling.” Von Bencher sighed. “Very well then, if there is no hope for stopping them completely how do we mitigate their impact? Can it even be done?”

Emily thought about what her Supreme Commander was asking. “That is a yes and no situation sir. Yes, we can mitigate their impact. No in that we don’t have the resources to do so. To take away the resources to handle the smugglers would weaken our abilities for combat operations, sir.”

“We have ourselves a true catch twenty-two then.” Von Bencher looked up at the clear night skies filled with stars. “When this is done, and if we survive I truly hope that the High Council will allow me to finally retire. What do you hope for, Flight Leader Emily Calisto?”

Emily thought about what Supreme Commander Von Bencher was suggesting and asking of her. She let the smile come to her face. “Out there somewhere, right now, is someone that can give me a true test of my skills. I have already crossed paths with them twice already. We have split our battles one for one so far. I truly feel that when we finally cross paths for the last time one of us shall die. Unlike you my esteemed Superior, I know that the High Council will not let me retire. They shall either have me put down outright or recycled for the next patch of warriors. Those are my only two options Supreme Commander.”

Von Bencher had never thought about what happened to those he commanded if they failed or became too old. He stood there watching as the deadliest pilot in his command walked away into the night. “I hope you get your wish, Emily. I really do.”

Outside Terresa’s tent, WSRDC.
Andria Cole silently watched as Chief Daily and Prince James helped a very drunk Terresa into her tent. She loved that the two men cared for her youngest daughter. A daughter that she never expected to have. When Jason had been born Andria was informed by her doctor that having more children could very well be deadly for her. She had always wanted another daughter but had come to terms with the harsh facts of reality. Not that it mattered. It was not long after Jason was born that her husband Jackson died in the line of duty during one of the border skirmishes.

When Sylvia first informed her of the transformation of Jason into Terresa she knew that something was wrong. Andria knew that Jason had been denied the Second-Generation process because of his H.H.S.S. For the Military to just suddenly revise this decision was totally out of context. Even then the idea of her child carrying the Claymore gene was a total shock. Unlike Sylvia, Andria was privy to information that was classified Eyes-only/burn upon reading. When the first Claymore appeared, the Empress ordered an investigation in what had happened. It had taken more than ten years of nonstop study before the answer had been found. An extremely rare genetic trait that was brought out during the Second-Gen process. Unfortunately, there was no test for the trait and couldn’t be spotted until after the process.

For Andria to be told that one of her children not only suffered from H.H.S.S. but was a Claymore on top of that was almost more than she could handle. Then there was the unexpected gender change. None of this mattered to Andria really. No, it was the unexpected way in which Terresa was adapting. Andria had her suspicions but no real way to prove them. Until this war was over she would just have to wait. Yet there was one thing that she needed to confront now. As James and Chief Daily exited Terresa’s tent, Andria coughed.

“May I have a moment of your time Colonel Nakatoma?”

James could tell right away that this was not a request. Just by the look in Andria Cole’s eye. The problem was he didn’t know if she was there as a medical professional of some renown, a Superior Officer, or as Terresa’s mother. Any one of which James was well practiced in dealing with on their own. Yet, here before him was all three in one person. If Andria Cole was like either one of his mothers James knew he was in for the proverbial fight of his life. With a slightly unsteady bow from the waist.

“For you Colonel Cole it would be my pleasure?” James smirked.

Andria had to give the prince points for attitude and style if not smarts. Waving for the young man to follow her Andria got straight to the point. “Tell me Colonel Nakatoma, do you normally make it a habit of getting my daughter drunk?”

“No ma’am I don’t. In fact, I hadn’t even planned on letting her drink as much as she did this evening.” James figured that the truth would be best right now. He knew that he was deep in the heart of enemy territory. Until he could figure out which enemy he had to confront first he would avoid all direct contact. “Me and my lance ran into her over at the APS hanger trying to score some of that shine ma’am.”

“I see.” Andria truly did understand. “Colonel, has my daughter taken to drinking excessively? Please be honest with me.”

“No, ma’am. I’ll be honest. If anything, I wish she would get drunk more often.” James told the older Cole woman.

“Why?”

“Colonel Cole what do you know of the missions that your daughter Terresa has been flying?” James could tell that Andria was talking with him as a medical officer.

“Not much really, Colonel Nakatoma. I know very little as most of her missions have been classified as Need to Know Only. Why?”

James sighed and wanted to pound the ever living dogshit out of the General Staff. “Ma’am, every time your daughter has gone up, and I mean every time, it has been against odds that most would consider fracking stupid. Yet she goes never asking the odds or the type of enemy. She just goes out there with one thing on her mind. To kill as many of them as she can. All while hoping that the Black Witch will be there. Your daughter wants that bitch in a bad way, ma’am.”

“I take it that it was her first encounter with the Black Witch that caused her Secondary-Configuration somehow?”

“From what I understand, yes ma’am. That and a highly illegal AI in the fighter she used during that fight. The individuals responsible for that mistake are no longer a factor though. I made sure of it.” James didn’t say how he insured the individuals responsible were taken care of. He didn’t have to.

Andria Cole smiled at hearing this. She could already tell that James was smitten with her youngest daughter. Now she just needed to get the young man to admit the truth to her. Even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“Now that I have taken care of my duties as a Superior Officer and Medical Professional. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty of our little chat.” James could tell right away that he was no longer dealing with your everyday mother. Oh no, not by a long shoot. “What are your intentions towards my daughter Terresa?”

There was something about facing a woman who had access to military grade firepower that sent chills down James’ spine. Then there was the woman’s family to contend with. A son who is a highly trained Death Dealer that specialized in covert warfare. A daughter that is a just as deadly with a gun or knife as she is good with a scalpel at saving a life. And finally, the very daughter that he is interested in. A daughter that can take any aerospace fighter to its limits and beyond then still return that fighter racking up an unprecedented kill rate. It was not just the woman before him that James had to contended with, but the whole Cole family.

In his twelve-year military career going all the way back to his time at the Academy James had dated a few young women but truly only loved one in all that time. His first real love, Cathy Pike. James knew he had dated more women than should be acceptable for an Officer, but almost all of them had been political in nature. Therefore, his dalliances were overlooked by his Commanding Officers because of the very harsh fact that James was a political figure under their command. The downside of his ‘playboy’ reputation and being the Crown Prince was finding someone to truly share his life with. Someone that wasn’t looking for just a political connection to the current Royal Family.

“Ma’am, I can honestly say that I would enjoy getting to know your youngest daughter in a more social setting. I find her to be a charming, caring, unselfish, extremely brave, officer and young woman. Before you say it. Yes, I know that she has all the social graces at times of an Orion tundra bull on roller skates in a china shop. That just means she is a real person in my eyes.” James got a sheepish look on his face and took the bull by the horns. “Ma’am, you have no doubt heard about my many ‘conquests’ over the years. I’ll be brutally honest ma’am. Terresa makes me feel something I haven’t felt in six years.”

Andria Cole was many things but stupid or insensitive wasn’t one of them. The whole Empire knew about the death of the Lady Cathy Pike. The young woman that was set to be the first Crown Princess of the Empire. She remembered the betting pools setup by the bookies on New Vegas for when the happy couple would tie the knot. Hell, she had placed her own bet on that happy. Then there was the tragic news from the outer rim planet. Lady Cathy Pike had died in a pirate raid on the planet of Hyperion seven. She also remembered how the Empress, and War Princess, were the lead pallbearers for the young woman’s funeral.

“Colonel Nakatoma, may I call you James?” Andria asked politely. He just smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you, James. Please call me Andria. This is a personal matter. As such I see no reason for us to stand on formality. I will be just as honest as you have been. I am worried about Terresa. Not just as her mother but also as a Doctor. What I saw tonight could be seen in one of two ways. The first of which is Lieutenant Cole is using alcohol to blunt the edge. That she is self-medicating. The second is every time she goes up in that fighter of hers, she pushes the edge but pulls back just in time. Which is it?”

James thought about what Andria was asking of him. “It’s the second Andria. I’ve seen the gun-camera footage from her missions. I would agree that Terresa pushes herself each time she goes up. She faces odds that are at best stupid, but usually outrageous. But she is not the only pilot on this base that has been facing the same odds. She is just better at bring her fighter home in one piece.”

“Do you attribute this to her skills or her luck?”

“Both, Andria.” James could see where Andria was going and decided to get ahead of her. “Look Andria, I know that you think I might be taking advantage of her emotional state. I can assure you that is not the case. I have not made any advances towards your daughter beyond a few kisses here and there. Yes, I walked back to her tent the other night, but that was all. She wanted more, but I know that she isn’t ready for that yet. Until I feel that she is ready, or she tells that she is no longer fighting with herself will I seek to take things further.”

“Thank you, James. I find you to be a very honorable young man. Not the galivanting Casanova of the Social Circuit that the Entertainment Vids portray you.” Andria gave him a hard look then smiled. “I think I approve. Just don’t hurt my baby, James. You do, and Crown Price or not, I’ll skin your ass alive. Do we have an understanding young man?”

James had never been so bluntly treated with respect or threatened before in his life. To first have Terresa’s mother give her approval only to have her threaten him in the same breath was refreshing. Most of the parents in the past have tried to garner his favor. Andria Cole made James feel like he was the one trying to gain her favor and permission. This was something totally new to James. He found that he kind of liked it. For once he was the one needing to prove himself to the family. Not the other way around. The Coles were not Nobility, never had been.

For James meeting Andria Cole and her family was a real chance at finding acceptance as for himself. To them he was just some officer after the youngest member of their family. He thought about something his mother Alice said once. ‘A son is a son until he takes a wife. A daughter is a daughter all her life.’ His mother Maiha also once told him something about the people of the frontier planets. That sons don’t just marry a daughter. They marry the whole family. For the first time James truly understood what his mother was trying to tell him.

James then remembered something that Sylvester Cole told him back on the Super Carrier Lady Dai Etsu as the very blunt threat Andria Cole worked its way through his mind. ‘Wear a steal jockstrap with titanium cup. Both are dyed in the wool ballbusters.’ He could tell that piece of advice applied to more than just the sisters of Sylvester Cole, but to all of the Cole women.

‘I must say James. The Cole women are cut from a very brutal cloth. If I were you I would kiss the Colonel’s ass right now and promise to do all within your power to protect her youngest daughter.’

‘Stephen old boy that is one piece of advice I planned on following before you gave it. I have a feeling that I won’t last the day if I hurt Terresa.’

‘I agree with you, James. I believe that not even your mothers could stop that family. Especially once they get rolling.’

James swallowed and gave Andria his most charming smile. “Message received, loud and clear Colonel. I hurt your baby and the Hellhounds will spend the next fifty years looking for my body.”

“Oh no, James. They won’t have to waste time looking for your body. Because I’ll nail your ass to the APS hanger walls.” The smile that graced Andria Cole’s face was eerily similar to the one that her youngest daughter worn in combat. James had seen the same smile once before on Terresa’s face. He now knew where she got it from. That faint sly smile that predicted pain and death in the near future.

“I can tell that you, and your youngest daughter, share far more than just your beautiful looks Andria.” James gave Andria a small smirk. “You share the same temper as well. I think that I’m the one that needs to worry about getting hurt.”

Andria just let the smile reach her eyes as she turned away and walked into the night in search of her own tent. James stood there in total shock as Andria Cole seemed to fade away into the night as if made of smoke. He had seen his grandmother, mothers, and aunts pull that mystic walk shit. He had even seen his sisters pull it. But here was a woman that had no connection to his family and she just disappeared into nothingness the way the females of his family do.

“Why do I have a feeling that I just met the one woman that could happily slit my throat in my sleep?” James said into the night air.

“Did she pull her disappearing into the night act?” a voice caused James to jump in surprise. James spun around, ready to fight, only to find Sylvia Cole standing there smirking. “We’ve all had her pull that crap on us. I think she learned it from some Reverend Mother for the Knights of Ida-ten. Think about twenty years ago if not more. I know it was before she met our father.”

“About that, just why do you and your siblings try to avoid using the connects that come from your parents? I mean surely you all could have gotten better assignments than out here in the backend of the Empire.”

“We’re all here on the ass end of nowhere because of parents and their connections. Dad pissed off one too many politicians and mom, well let’s just say she never let her dislike for the High Families stand in the way of treating commoners first.” Sylvia said with a shrug. “Speaking of postings why are you stuck out here?”

“To clean out some of the deadwood in the upper officer ranks. The reports of certain officers being protected by High Families connections, or just straight out High Family names. My mothers felt that the best person to hunt down the deadwood was me. They both know that I’m slightly more politically charming than my baby brother. He has all the political savvy of a PPC.” James chuckled.

“Okay James that makes sense.” Sylvia turned and looked in Terresa’s tent at her sleeping sister. “Well, I just came by to check on Terresa. I suggest that you get some sleep as well Colonel Nakatoma. I have a feeling that tomorrow will bring us even more challenges. I fear that this war is far from over.”

James just watched as Sylvia Cole walked away. He had nothing to say in reply to her very ominous warning. “Major you have no idea of how true that was.”

Outside the town of Nowhere, New Texas frontier.
Samantha Price led her small band of rebels under the main road bridge crossing the Big Catfish River heading towards Nowhere. She had reluctantly agreed to lead the ten-man team on this raid. Her reasons were her own. Unlike the hardcore New Texas citizens, Samantha was trying to keep the number of civilian casualties down. She didn’t care for political gains. To her this was more about driving the Amazons from New Texas. Nothing more, nothing less. If she could keep just one of these young men and women with her alive to the end of the war she had won.

For the first-time since she retired, Samantha Price deployed her bio-armor and strapped on the two swords she had earned serving with Queen Tatiana’s Divisions. In the last ten years Samantha had taken great joy in not have to deploy her bio-armor. More than one of the rebels watched as she slowly painted her face with the colors of her old unit. Even old man Richards couldn’t believe that their small-town sheriff was a Wood Elf, let alone a Death Dealer. Then again nobody really knew a lot about the enigmatic woman. Just that she had come among them with not much but her pension and a desire to be left alone as she worked her small homestead. The fact that she even accepted the position as Sheriff was a surprise to most.

When Samantha showed up wearing only the bio-armor of a Second-Gen Death Dealer carrying the twin swords heads turned in surprise. Only the revelation that she was a Wood Elf was a bigger surprise. When Samantha told old man Richards that she was leading the attack on the road bridge no one argued with her. Using her training, experience, and magnetic personality Samantha took charge of the mission to stop the local mercs. Originally the plan had called for an all out frontal attack on Quinsbee Jayhawkers at their well-fortified base. This was the plan that Tom Richards and his ranch foreman Dale Cutter had come up with. Samantha had walked in on the gathered ranch hands and owners during their initial planning session.

When Samantha saw how they were going to attack a battalion sized unit of mercenaries, highly trained mercenaries, she blew her top. The gathered ranch hands would later say that you could hear her rants over the stupidity of the plan clear down to the mouths of the Big and Little Catfish Rivers. In ten minutes the original plan had been scrapped and Samantha Price was elected to be the ‘tactical leader’. Samantha didn’t care what old man Richard’s wanted to call her. All she wanted to do was keep as many of these young men and women alive long enough to see their thirties.

When she explained her plan for dealing with the Jayhawkers Richards began to give orders for who would be doing what. Samantha again put a stop to those orders. When Richards went to challenge Samantha over this her temper finally flared. Her PPL burned its way through the side of the Super barn’s metal walls in under a micro-second. That one demonstration put all thoughts of overruling Samantha Price’s orders in the rubbish pile. In a clear voice Samantha explained how things were going to work. She was the one in charge of all combat operations. Any attack plans were to be run by her first and foremost. That the only combat orders to be followed were those issued by herself and the five people with her. Jerry McGregor, Steve Watson, Kelly Watson, Marry Beth Holland, and Joe Miller.

It had taken the six of them less than twenty minutes to scrap every plan that Richards and the other ranch owners had come up with. Once they had established just how the pecking order was going to be Jerry McGregor let Samantha get down to business. The first order of business was how to handle the Jayhawkers. Sam knew of the one place that could be used as an ambush site that would ensure success. The main road bridge over the Big Catfish River was the only point at which the mercs can attack the town. It was also the one point that the mercs would be on their highest point of alert.

The bridge was four kilometers long and four lanes wide. It spans the Big Catfish River between two ninety-foot drops on each side of the massive river. Of all the bridges in the area it was the only arch bridge. The main arch sat between two massive columns. On each side of the river helping to support the first kilometer of the bridge were another six such columns. The target for Sam and her team were the first and last columns at each end of the bridge and the two center most columns. Each team member carried twenty pounds of Hand Axe. The newest lightest and most powerful plastic explosive to date. One once of Hand Axe has the explosive power of twenty pounds of C-4.

Over the next two hours the five two-man teams work silently through the night. Shortly after midnight Samantha and her team extract from the bridge area undetected. In their wake two-hundred pounds of high explosive waits to be triggered. Samantha had calculated the placement of every charge. She knew that they would have only one chance at bring down that bridge before the Jayhawkers flooded across to attack their positions on the ridge line.

Positions that she and Mac had planned down to the smallest detail. Fourteen rapid fire rocket launchers were just on the other side of the ridgeline. All ready to rain down flaming napalm and high explosive warheads. They had sighted in both ends of the bridge and two hundred meters on each side of the riverbank. Red route one as they had started calling the main road had just become a deadly trap. One that had but one target. A mercenary unit named Quinsbee Jayhawkers.

An hour before sunrise Samantha was awakened by the sounds of heavy track vehicles and the whine of powerful engines. With the skill born out of necessity and training Samantha eased up to the top of the ridge line. Using the Combat Control Suit that came with being a Second-Gen, Sam zoomed in on the lead tank. Opening a link to the rest of the rebel command. “Here they come people. Stand by to send the signal.”

Sam waited until the Type-3 Chi-Nu sixty-ton medium tank reached the near side of the kill zone. With more than three quarters of the Jayhawkers on the bridge and the rest spread out on both sides of the river. Sam gave the order. “Now!” that one-word order set in motion a chain of responses that would do almost any battalion commander proud. The first of which was the detonation of the Hand Axe.

Even as the first rockets were leaving their launch tubes the main support columns for the bridge were collapsing. Of the seventy-two medium tanks, and IFVs, fifty-four of them would plunge into the swift moving, and unforgiving currents of the Big Catfish River fifty-feet below the bridge deck. The other eighteen would soon join them in death as the first rockets slammed down on the tops of the Jayhawker armored vehicles. Over the next two minutes four-hundred and twenty, seven-point-five-inch rockets terminated their suicidal flights in or on top of the eighteen surviving members of the Jayhawkers. Within five minutes a second round of rockets fell on the kill zone. Between the two rounds of rockets nothing was lift alive.

Samantha ordered her spotters to pull back after the second round of rockets. Standing up slowly Samantha looked down on the carnage that she had helped to plan. Her AI gave her the death total. Seventy-two tank, and IFV crews, for a total of one-thousand-and-forty-four men and women dead. Dead before they had the chance to return one shot, fired in anger. Dead before they even knew they were under attack. Most, dead to the unrelenting currents of the Big Catfish River drowned without a chance to escape their armored coffins. Coffins that were once their proud chariots of war. Now, all that stood to mark their passing was the concrete stubs of the support columns that once supported a proud architectural achievement.

“What a waste of damned fine armored cavalry.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 17
Cut and Shoot, New Texas
Fox ‘Spooky’ Muller slid his way down the muddy bank of the Warthog River. His boss had told him that he was to meet up with two of those Death Dealers from White Sands. At seventeen the young man had grown up hearing stories about these fabled warriors. When his oldest brother left three years ago to join the Empyreal Military he had tried to join the Death Dealers but failed to make the cut. Fox wanted to not only meet these guys but talk to them about what it takes to become a Death Dealer.

It was his dream to come home wearing the Imperial Black of the Death Dealers. He knew that it was said that the Empress and War Princess were both Second-Gen Death Dealers but didn’t believe it. They were both far too beautiful women to be soldiers let alone Death Dealers. He had heard that there were female Death Dealers but knew that they have to be ugly, butch, hardcore, lesbos. No way would there be beautiful, feminine ladies in their ranks. You can imagine his surprise at seeing the two strikingly beautiful women wearing the Imperial Black combat uniforms of the Death Dealers stepping out of the wood line onto the riverbank.

Fox hand to do a double take upon first seeing the two women. He had to be seeing things. He was sure of it. then one of them smiled at the other. “Oh look Danni, we got us another one of those poor misinformed civilians that think all Death Dealer females are overbearing fugly lesbos.”

“Knock it off, Joyce.” The smaller of the two snapped. “It’s bad enough we got to deal with a bunch of redneck assholes on this planet. There’s no need to go antagonizing them.”

Joyce just pouted at her friend then let her sense of humor take over. Showing a sunny smile with a totally vacant look to Fox. “So, are you like, you know, our guide to the big-time rebel leaders or something cutie?”

Danni knew it was coming. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. Yet still couldn’t stop the much needed facepalm at her partner’s antics. “Damn it, Joyce! Quit fracking around with the kid’s head.”

“Fine.” Joyce grumbled. “Spoil sport.”

“Please forgive my partner, kid. She get’s stupid after a fifty-mile run and no rest. Which way to your boss?” Danni asked politely.

“Um… About fifteen miles due south of here.” Fox said pointing the direction he had come. “I’ve got a four-wheeler about two miles from here. Do you ladies need a break or maybe some water?”

Both women shook their head no. Yet it was Danni who took command. “Thanks, but we’ll rest when we get back to your four-wheeler kid.”

Fox just shrugged his shoulders and lead the way up back towards his four-wheeler. He knew that these women would need to take a break soon. He also knew that the bullshit they tried to feed them of traveling fifty miles at a run. Was just that, bullshit. Sure, they may have run ten to fifteen miles running but not fifty. Especially carrying those full backpacks. As he cleared the river bank Fox thought that he would showoff a little and started to stretch out his pace.

Joyce and Danni just looked at each other and sighed. They had put up with the attitudes of the New Texans from the first day the division had landed. For male Death Dealers it was so bad. In fact, the locals respected them as if they were the second coming. But for the female Death Dealers it was a constant up hill battle to get the respect they had earned by winning the Imperial Black. When the teenager decided to test their endurance they just accepted the silent challenge. As Fox kept stepping up his pace they just kept right up with him. Not really pushing the boy, but just enough to let him know they were still there and not going anywhere.

By the time Fox reached the four-wheeler he was damned near dead on his feet. He couldn’t believe that the two women weren’t even breathing hard. “How… can… you… not… be… breathing… hard? You’re… carrying… those… backpacks?”

“Look kiddo, for starters we have been trained to carry a forty-pound rucksack over seventy-miles before taking a break. You also got to remember that every Death Dealer is augmented. We are not your normal soldiers.” Danni said as she placed her hand on his shoulder. “If you survive this war. Come to White Sands and get tested for the military. We can tell that you really want to be a Death Dealer. Just remember that only one in every one-hundred ever get accepted.”

“Really? Only one in every one-hundred? How many women get accepted?” Fox asked looking at the two very beautiful women thinking that the number had to be even lower. “I mean if they only take one man out of a hundred. How many women do they accept out say another hundred?”

“You don’t get it kid. That one person is the same.” Joyce snapped. “To Death Dealers it doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl when you walk through their door. Only one person wins the Imperial Black out of a hundred. Man or woman, we all bust our asses to win those Blacks. We all train the same. We share the same food. The same water. The same barracks. Hell, we even have the same showers.”

“You get lucky enough to be accepted to go through the first round of selections kid. You’ll have done something that only one in a thousand have ever done. If you get past first round selections you still have to past the physical and psychic exams. All of that just to get you through the door. At anytime one of the examiners can reject you for any reason.” Danni went on to point out.

“Oh wow. I never thought that it was that hard to get into the Death Dealers.” For the first time Fox saw his dreams going up in flames. He thought about how he had treated the two women before and felt shame. “Um… about my attitude earlier. Would it help if I apologized?”

Joyce just smiled. “Forget about kid. Just remember that every member of the Death Dealers has earned their place as one of us. Also remember something else that most of the Empire’s citizens don’t consider. Death Dealers, to the last, give up their planetary citizenships. Our only home is the Death Dealers. We belong to the Empire. It is something you need to think long and hard about before starting down the road to winning the Imperial Blacks.”

As the two women placed their backpacks in the back of the four-wheeler Fox Muller thought about what they said. He was fighting a war for his planet’s freedom sure. Yet, what would it be like to have to fight for some other planet’s freedom. That is what they were doing now. They where here on New Texas fighting against the Amazons for his people. They and the rest of the Death Dealers could have pulled out ten days ago saying that this was not their fight. After all the New Texans were only rebelling against the Amazon controlled banks, and their mercenaries at first. Now, they were fighting twenty-four heavy divisions of regular Amazon Military. By all rights the Death Dealers couldn’t be blamed if they pulled out.

“Excuse me, ladies. But why hasn’t your Commanding Officers ordered your retreat to another system? After all, this really isn’t your fight?” Fox needed to understand why they and the rest of the Death Dealers were still here fighting the Amazons.

“We have a saying in the Death Dealers kid.” Joyce said as she slides into the four-wheeler. “You push, we flatten. Remember our moto kid. Death is Dealt by our hand. Well there is a second part to our moto that goes like this. We will ring the bells of Hell. When Death Dealers get given a planet to hold, we hold that planet. We never retreat, we never surrender. One way or the other our enemy is going to be filling body bags. With their own people.”

Fox just stared at the two women and their hard looks of determination. Fox now finally understood why his brother could fail to enter the Death Dealers. He just wasn’t mean enough to get the job done. Fox was also beginning to doubt his own ability to win those coveted Imperial Blacks. As he drove them through the early morning light Fox thought long and hard about the two female Death Dealers told him. He knew that he had a lot to think about and let them both fall asleep in their seats.

First Division Command Post, Panhandle Plains, New Texas
Sub Commander Helen Bull was not in a good mood. She knew that they were already forty hours behind their planned launch time for their attack. That lost forty hours had already cost them a full regiment of armor. The Jayhawkers had left their base at the preset time. The failure on the part of the Third Division to support that valuable mercenary unit could very well cost them the war. Of the twenty-four divisions on planet, eight of them were made up of mercenary battalions. Those eight divisions could make all the difference in the upcoming battles.

Of all the Sub Commanders Helen Bull knew this more than most. She had been a Military Advisor to the High Council during the planning of all operations on New Texas. The main reinforcements for the Amazon operations were those eight divisions worth of mercenary battalions. If they treat those battalions like so much trash then they can, and most likely will, go to the Mercenary Guilds Contract Hall. Once they do that and plead their case for maltreatment or lack of support there goes their reserve forces right out the window. She had warned the High Council of this possibility, repeatedly during the planning sessions. Yet, her warnings fell on what could only be described as deaf ears.

Even now, as the majority of their force gathered here on the Panhandle Plains, those reinforcements have yet to arrive. The reports of insurgent activity on every primary road and river crossing were rising with each hour. The main complaint has been sniper activity. So far, the divisions have lost almost a full third of their commanding front line officers. These officers were the backbone of the Amazon military. Supreme Commander Von Bencher’s orders to not engage the snipers went against everything that Helen and other divisional commanders believed. Who cares if a few future drones are killed? They could always decant a new batch of clones to replace them. It wasn’t like drones weren’t indispensable.

Helen was drawn from her dark thoughts by one of the Communication Technicians. “Sub Commander Bull, urgent message from planetary command, ma’am.”

“Well don’t just stand there. Read it already.” Helen snapped.

“By the orders of the Amazon Grand Council and High Council. All Divisional Sub Commanders are to initiate pacification and cleansing of the surrounding populace. All resistance is to be met with level three force. This is a planet wide cleansing and recycling of the population. Supreme Commander Von Bencher.” The Technician turned white as she read the orders. She knew what those orders meant for the people of New Texas that were not already citizens of the Amazon Collective.

Sub Commander Helen Bull just stood there not believing what she just heard. They were nowhere near ready to begin such operations. They had the base at White Sands to take first. Then there were close to ten, at last estimate, full regimental combat teams made up from the local population. A force that was growing daily. Then there were the reports of smaller bands of rebels attacking their supply lines, and other support facilities. It was as if the entire planet was rising up against them in total defiance. Like the New Texans weren’t going to just fade away.

Now the High Council wants a mere twenty-four divisions to put down a full-blown planetary wide insurrection. Helen gnashed her teeth as she grounded out. “Are they out of their damn minds?!”

The Technician didn’t know who the Sub Commander was talking to but kept her opinion to herself. She may be a member of the Educated Class but that won’t keep her head on her shoulders if the Sub Commander wanted to kill her. No, it would be best if she found a way to discreetly vanish from the Sub Commander’s preview.

Helen knew that she had to carry out those godawful orders. Thousands of innocent civilians were about to disappear from the face of New Texas. There would be no disputing those orders if she want to keep her own head. For whatever their reasons the High Council had moved the time table up. For Helen Bull this could only mean one thing. The Empire was coming. Coming in force.

Bounty Hunter County, New Texas
Mark McCoy and John Hatfield slowly moved into position behind the rock outcropping. Both men were armed with the new Hellsign Arms 13.7-milimeter Vladimir Harkonnen sniper rifles. For the past three days the two young men had been waiting for this moment. There before them, on route six-sixty-six, was the 27th Mobile Light Infantry Regiment. Or, to their minds, the blue belly scum of Rigel six.

Just like the other four two-man teams spread through out the valley they were there with a purpose. Tie down any force of light infantry that moved through this valley. Mark looked over at his longtime friend and gave the signal. John Hatfield just pushed the button on the radio detonator. Twenty feet in front of the lead Fast Attack Vehicle the double lain road exploded leaving behind a fifty-foot wide, twenty-foot deep, crater. The charge had been calculated down to the last detail to do exactly what it had. Cut off the use of that road. The damage will take heavy equipment and long hours to repair.

With the steep sides of the valley walls going around the crater was impossible. This valley was a natural choke point. It had taken six years to widen the valley floor enough to handle the four lanes of traffic. Another three just to lay the roadbed and one more year to spread the roadway surface itself. It had taken ten years and the lives of over thirty roadworkers in total to bring route 666 through these mountains. It truly had earned its nickname of the Devil’s Highway.

Today the six men and four women that made up the ten-man team stationed in this pass were about to make that nickname even more poetic and bloody. As one each team member targeted individual officers of the 27th MILR. Then, when the time was right, they fired their first rounds. From the Regiment’s Colonel down to the Executive Officers of the four Squadrons, each died from highspeed lead poisoning to the brain. The reaction from the rest of the Regiment was predictable. Everyone went diving for cover. Of all the threats soldiers face on the battlefield. Snipers are at the top of the list. Even in this day and age of high-tech multi-ton war machines that could destroy whole city blocks. Snipers were the one boogeyman that all soldiers feared because they don’t just kill the man next to you. They kill your buddies. They kill the people you know in front of you.

All up and down the valley the killing ground was well defined. By the time the Company Commanders were able to organize a response to first round of shots they too were targeted. It wasn’t until after the ten snipers had fired four rounds a piece that they finally pulled back. Down on the valley floor forty officers of the 27th MILR lay dead or dying and the Regiment was in total chaos. It would take the few remaining First and Second Lieutenants several days to sort out the mess that was the 27th MILR with the help of their senior Sergeants.

Royal Battle Platform Ryuk, Hades System
The heavy thud of an arrow driving deep into its wooden target sounded through the upper dorsal observation dome. A few seconds later a second thud sounded as a second arrow hit home within a scant few inches of the first. To most people the sounds of a bow string snapping taunt, and an arrow striking home, would seems strange in this day and age. For the four members of the Hellhounds standing off to one-side it was just the newest way for their charges to release their stress. It was also just something else for the personal royal bodyguards to place bets on amongst themselves. For the Hellhounds seeing the royal couple doing anything to release the stress of ruling the Empire was a good thing.

The sound of an arrow striking home sounded again. “The release must be smooth my student. Remember, the long slow steady pull is the key to mastery of the daikyu yumi. Allow me to show you what I am talking about.”

All four guards quickly placed their bets by way of their private network connection. They all knew that the Empress Maiha and War Princess Alice were about to get schooled by their long-time and most senior advisor, the Reverend Mother Katsumi. Even the Grand Lady Dai Etsu who had come aboard four hours earlier knew that her daughter and daughter-in-law were about to be shown what a true Mistress at of the art of kyūjutsu could do. Katsumi rolled the right sleeve of her kimono down her arm before picking up the third bow in the rack.

Taking a slow deep breath Katsumi began her draw. Katsumi let the last two hundred years of practicing kyūjutsu show. Her movements were smooth, precise, graceful, as she slowly took her stance as she drew back the bowstring for her shot. Over the eight positions of kyūjutsu Katsumi never let her concentration waver from the task at hand. When she released her arrow, the clothyard shaft cone tipped missile, flew as if guided by a wire straight into the center of the wooden target at the far end of the dome area. When done Katsumi slowly lowered her bow before turning to face Maiha and Alice. “Now, did you see the difference between my shot and yours?”

Both Alice and Maiha had seen, but for the life of them couldn’t figure out how to repeat it. The movements may seem simple and easy to perform, they were far from either. The grace and beauty of the art was beyond the two novices for now. Holding their bows so as not to damage them the royal couple bowed deeply to their teacher and advisor. Katsumi smiled as she returned the show of respect.

“Remember that kyūjutsu is more than just an exercise, children. It is also first and foremost an artform.” Dai Etsu said quietly from where she stood off to one side. “Respect the art as much as you respect the science.”

Smiling, Maiha and Alice bowed to the woman who was more than just a mother to them. As Maiha returned to a standing position she looked over at the four bodyguards. “Okay, you clowns can pay them.”

The guards just chuckled as they hand each other a set of notes. As they did so Maiha just sighed. “You know something Alice. Just once I would love to make that crack and for nothing to happen.”

“You would die of shock, my student.” Katsumi delivered her response in such a deadpanned way that Dai Etsu and Alice broke out laughing. Even Maiha had to chuckle. It was well known that the Empress and War Princess treated their bodyguards more like friends than soldiers. Sometimes even going to those deadly men and women for the opinion of the common soldier on matters of state. The guards on duty just chuckled at the Reverend Mother’s reply to their antics.

“I hate to say this but you’re probably right about that Reverend Mother. Then again, they are not your normal soldiers. They’re more friends than bodyguards.” Maiha smiled over at the guards. “I do want to thank you for joining us today for our practice.”

“I am more than happy to instruct you, Empress Maiha, but I believe that you have an alternative reason for inviting me.” Katsumi pointed out.

“Yes, I too wondered at your very formal request for an audience Maiha.” Dai Etsu said as she looked around the observation room. “You have never been so formal with me. Not that I don’t mind visiting you and Alice.”

Maiha sighed. “I have need of your advice on a matter, no two matters of state. I hope that you’ll be able to give me some guidance.”

Dai Etsu heard the frustration in Maiha’s voice. Tuning to the bodyguards she called out in a tone that booked no argument. “CLEAR AND LOCK THE ROOM!”

As one the four bodyguards bowed first, then left the observation room. When the two sets of doors closed behind the guards the sounds of heavy double reinforced bars slamming home could be heard. This was followed by the hiss of pneumatic seals inflating. When the voice of Ryuk sounded in the room they knew nothing, and no one was getting into that room. “The room is now sealed Grand Lady Dai Etsu.”

“Thank you, Ryuk.” Dai Etsu said into the empty air knowing that the ancient AI would hear her. Looking over at Maiha. “What has you so upset, Maiha?”

“You have heard of the outbreak of war on New Texas by now. What you have most likely not heard of is the attack on four New Texas cities with nuclear weapons.” Maiha’s very calm but irritated answer had the two older women’s attention. “I did not stutter. The Amazon command dropped nukes on four of the Texas cities.”

“Do your troops know if there were any survivors?” Reverend Mother Katsumi asked with more heat than would be expected from a religious leader.

“Not as of yet, Reverend Mother. They’re still trying to get survey teams into position to evaluate those impact sites.” Alice answered quickly.

“Does James have an idea on how the attacks happen, Maiha?” Dai Etsu asked with the ever-present serene presence plastered on her face. The one that Maiha had spent the last thirty years trying to learn but only coming close, yet not quite reaching. It was a trait that Maiha’s sisters had all mastered long ago, while she still struggled with it. Maiha often quipped that if she didn’t have to deal with Parliament she might be able to master the Family’s serenity.

“That we do know mother. It seems that the Amazons had a flight of heavy bombers that could follow the terrain and deliver the atomic bombs. He was very blunt about the fact that the Amazons used bombs and not missiles in his report.”

“Why bombs over missiles? Bombs are not nearly as accurate. They also place a heavy bomber crew in unnecessary danger.” Katsumi began to pace around the observatory. Stopping in front of the rack holding the arrows she picked one up and a thought occurred to her. Stepping back over to the firing line Katsumi took up her stance once more. Then with the ease born of years of practice pulled and fired the arrow. The thud of the arrow hit home brought a smile to Katsumi’s face. “They have to use bombers. They don’t have the missiles fire nukes from a safe distance.”

“Excuse me, Katsumi, but would you please enlighten the non-military minded among us?” Dai Etsu sighed.

“You’re not the only one here that needs an explanation mama. And I have a military mind.” Alice gripped.

“The Amazons lack the mobile missile launchers to handle a nuclear missile. Something, or someone put their heavy launchers out of commission. That or they never had the MMLs to begin with.” Maiha said with full understanding. “The question is which it is?”

“I would have to say that it is a combination of both, Maiha.” Katsumi answered before turning to look at the target. “From Prince James’ reports we know that the White Sands Base was first attacked by several heavy mobile missile batteries and Lieutenant Cole was able to destroy a few of those batteries. We also knew that over the past few days that the New Texans have been able to disable a few more of those MLRS Units. If the Amazon Force has been unable to replace those units with fresh replacements, then they lack the needed launchers.”

Dai Etsu gave Katsumi a rather harsh look. “It seems that the problem children of the Empire have finally shown their true colors. I take it that is the reason for your request to speak with us?”

“That is just one of the reasons, mother. The other is one that has been perplexing me for the last ten years.” Maiha picked up arrow drew, aimed, and fired. The arrow struck home just centimeters from the bullseye. “Over that time more and more of the Parliament have been backing the Amazon proposals. At present there is close to a two-thirds backing for the Amazons. Not of this make sense to me.”

“Have you thought of the possibility that those Representatives may have been replaced with clones?” Dai Etsu asked with true interest. At the blank looks on her daughter’s and daughter-in-law’s faces Dai Etsu sighed. “Children, the Amazon Collective is a clone-based society. It would be nothing for them to replace key Representatives with clones. Clones that are loyal to the Collective.”

“Shit! That would more than explain why so many of those anti-clone laws were shotdown on the Floor. Those bastards have been undermining every social and political reform that I have been trying to get passed.” Maiha was beyond pissed. For the first time in decades her bio-arm deployed due to emotional feedback. Gone was the refined Lady and Empress, that had been so carefully groomed over the years. In her place now stood the epitome of hell incarnate. For thirty-years the Empire had not seen this creature of vengeance and war.

In a voice devoid of emotion yet filled with the coldest icy winds of the most frozen planet in all the Empire. “Ryuk open a channel to all High Lords and Ladies of the Death Dealers.”

“At once my Empress.” The ancient AI answered. Within a few seconds holographic displays for Lord or Lady appeared in the air around Maiha. “As you requested, my Empress. All are here and accounted for, my Empress.”

“Thank you, Ryuk.” Maiha said into the air then turned to face the holograms. “My Lords and Ladies, we have a problem. As you have most likely been following the situation on New Texas let us dispense with the formalities. Shall we?”

“It has been a long time since we last saw that black armor, Empress. I think I can speak for the other Lords and Ladies, Empress.” First High Lady Michela Starr started off. “Our we FINALLY going to put an end to those bitches?”

“I agree with First Lady Starr, Empress.” First High Lord McCloud spoke up next. “I have been dealing with those damned River Sluts and their Secessionist attitudes for the past ten years.”

“Excuse me, First High Lord McCloud, but what Secessionist attitudes are you talking about?” Maiha asked with what could only be described as glacial ice in her voice.

“There is powerful movement within the Amazon Grand Council to Secede from the Empire, your Majesty. Until recently they have been in the minority. Over the past four years they have been gaining in both support and power. They are the same ones that have been advocating the use of military force to push out the colonists on the frontier planets. At present this faction has the loudest voice in their Grand Council and High Council.” McCloud felt that he should give his Empress all the facts. She was known for her quicksilver moods. When he and the other First Lords and Ladies saw her trademark black bio-arm they knew she was pissed.

“Why haven’t I been appraised of this situation, First Lord McCloud? After all the Amazon system and its Collective fall under your preview.” Maiha let her displeasure over this unknown element fill her voice.

McCloud swallowed hard before answering. “Your Majesty, please understand that, as much as I wanted to inform you of the political leanings of the Grand Council, I lacked the evidence to back my suspicions.”

Maiha understood imminently what McCloud had been facing. She could only sigh as it was a civilian problem that he was facing. Not a military one in which he had the authority to operate. “Understood First Lord McCloud. I thank you for your perseverance in this matter.”

Maiha took a few minutes to gather her thoughts as the gathered Death Dealer First Lords and Ladies. She could tell that they were all taking in this new information and formulating plans on how to deal with the situation. Before Maiha were the top ten Military minds in all of her Empire. Then there was the ten Shinigami and Death Dealer AIs for a total of twenty Tactical and Strategic Command AIs at their disposal. Maiha felt confident that they would be able to come up with a solution for the current situation on New Texas.

“Now that you have all been fully appraised of the situation both on New Texas and within the Amazon Collective. Do any of you have an idea for how we should proceed?” Maiha asked them as one.

Only First High Lady Saris Victoria gave any indication. “A two-pronged attack your Majesty. One on New Texas, one in Parliament. As New Texas and the NCS is part of my Area of Operation Allow me to address the actual war within the New Confederate System. I can have the Twenty-second Death Dealers Battlegroup along with all eighteen of its combat divisions in system and planet side within nine days.”

“Lady Saris are you sure of that time? I don’t want you pushing your people.” Maiha knew that emergency redeployment of troops could lead to disaster.

“Your Majesty, I know that I have most likely overstepped, but I started redeploying my divisions four days ago. When I received the first reports out of New Texas I gave the order for Operation Royal Blue of the Rainbow Plans. I am only waiting for my Ogres to reach the rest of the fleet Majesty.” Even across the vast distance and through the dark backlighting of her office High Lady of the Death Dealers Saris Victoria radiated an air of death. Saris was unlike most of the other High Lords and Ladies. Her home planet is one that only allows for predators.

Maiha didn’t even think twice upon hearing this. “You’re cleared for operations Lady Saris. End this war before it goes any further.”

“Yes, Empress Maiha.” Was all Saris said before disconnecting. Leaving Maiha and the others to deal with the political side of the attack. Something that none of the High Lords or Ladies were very good at. This would have to be Maiha’s sole mission in helping to end this war.

“Thank you, Ladies and Lords. Please remain on guard in your respective A.O.s. I have a feeling that our enemies will take this as a sign to attack. If they should be so foolish, you’re cleared for unilateral action. Only the seven-forty Core Crackers are off the table. Other than that, anything goes. Understood?” Maiha wanted to make sure that her Military Commanders knew where they stood.

As one the assembled Commanders of the Death Dealers answered in the affirmative. Maiha knew that they would carryout her orders and insure that the Empire survived. “Death is dealt by our hands!”

As the battle cry for the Death Dealers’ sounded through the observation room the High Lords and Ladies signed off. Once she was alone again with her mother, Alice, and Reverend Mother Katsumi, Maiha sighed in defeat. “After thirty years I have finally been forced to use the Death Dealers once more within our borders. I guess that I was just too optimistic for my own good. I had hoped that the Knights of Ida-ten could have continued to hold off the Amazons’ need for power.”

“You sound as if you have failed, my student.” Katsumi said as she picked up an arrow. As she drew the arrow for another shoot at the target. “For thirty years the Knights have done exceedingly well in keeping the peace. Especially for such a small force of dedicated individuals. No, this is a situation where the forces, the Knights of Ida-ten faced, could not be dissuaded form their course of action.”

Katsumi released the arrow. As the ancient style missile flew across the home into the center of the target Katsumi slowly lowered the bow. “Just as the arrow that is your Death Dealers has left its string so must your own arrow now fly towards the target within the Hall of Lords and Parliament.”

Maiha stepped over to the firing line. Drawing an arrow from her quiver Maiha slowly drew back for her shot following the same slow methodical process that Katsumi had used. “My target is not one that I cannot use a PPC to handle, Reverend Mother. Nor can I use an arrow to handle it was well.”

“Then how shall you face the snakes in our Parliament then?” Dai Etsu asked as she watched Maiha slowly preparing herself for her next shot. “Hold your left arm a little loser Maiha. Not so tense.”

“The same way that I would if I had never left Kingston Crossroads, mother. I will not face them in their nest but out in the open.” Maiha loosed her arrow then turned to face Katsumi, Dai Etsu, and Alice. “The right words in the right ears and they’ll run. Just like when you set a wheat field a blaze and the snakes run.”

“Then what words shall you use set the fields ablaze that are Parliament and the Hall of Lords?” Dai Etsu smirked at the analogy that Maiha had used for those two august bodies.

“Loyalty oaths and conditioning testes.” Even Katsumi couldn’t believe what Maiha had just suggested. Maiha knew that she had to go on to explain her plan in detail to keep her own family from raising mortal hell with her. “We all know that the clones within the Amazon Collective are conditioned from conception for loyalty to the Collective only. By putting them in the position where they must swear loyalty to the Empire over the Collective they will balk. That or suicide on the floor of Parliament in front of everyone. I know that it sounds cruel but they can always stepdown from their falsely gained position. Either way we will remove the source of corruption within the two branches of the Government.”

“I hate to say this, but it’ll work. I say we go through with Maiha’s plan two days from now. Both the Lords and Parliament are scheduled for hearings concerning the war in the New Confederate System.” Alice knew that she would back Maiha regardless of what Katsumi or Dai Etsu decided.

“When one is faced with a field full of snakes one does not chase in after them. This is a wise choice, my student. You have been paying attention over the years.” Katsumi just smirked and readied her bow for another shot.

Dai Etsu had by now picked out her own bow and an arrow before joining Katsumi on the firing line. As she knocked and drew her arrow Dai Etsu never took her eyes off the furthest target. “Then I suggest you prepare the coroner for an uptake in business child. I have a feeling that many of our Lords, Ladies, and Representatives have no idea that they are clones. Once they take that oath they will die.”

“I’ll make sure that it is done with grace and decorum mother.” Maiha answered as Dai Etsu and Katsumi released their arrows at the same time. Alice and Maiha stood stock still for a few seconds as they realized that the two arrows had hit the same target with less than a millimeter separation.

“See that you do dear. I have no desire to wage another Civil War within the Empire. The Nakatoma’s have long been the sword that sleeps so that the Empire can prosper.” Dai Etsu turned slowly to face Maiha. “We MAY have been forced onto the Throne, but we will not rule through violence.”

“I swore thirty years ago to never become what I hate the most mother. I haven’t broken that vow yet, and I’ll be damned to the gates of hell before I do.” Maiha bowed deeply from the waist to her mother. “We are the Nakatoma Shogunate. We rule with honor and mercy. We are the last Shogunate.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 18
Somewhere over the Northern Great Plains
Hyper Sonic Transport 636
Sylvester walked the line of Jump Infantry that made up his small command. He knew that outside the Hyper Sonic Transport his sister Terresa was flying top cover protecting him and his troops. They had left the WSRDC seven hours ago and were just now clearing the Artic Circle of New Texas. They had another four hours before they reached their drop zone. So far, all of the insertions had gone to plan. They just had four more drops to go. With his being the last.

“Relax, skipper. You’ve doubled checked our jump rigs so many times that you’re wearing out the speed latches.” One his troops said with a smile. They all knew that this was no ordinary drop sequence. That their lives were riding the edge. Not that it mattered to them. They had all made more than one combat drop. Yet for some reason the men and women could tell that their commander was worried about something. More like he was worried about someone.

Before Sylvester could take issue with the young man that had made the remark his First Sergeant stepped up to him. “Sir, can we talk privately?”

Sylvester just wave towards the front of the HST. Once there he turned to his First Sergeant. “Okay Top. We’re about as private as we can get on this bird.”

“Sir, it’s normally none of my business but when your mind is not on the jump you can get people killed. What’s up your ass?” The man was brutally honest with Sylvester and was expecting an answer.

“I’m just worried about someone on this mission Top. No it’s none of our troopers. There are you happy?”

“To a point sir. Who is it that you’re worried about sir?” Sylvester could tell that the First Sergeant wasn’t going to give. Sylvester just sighed. That was all the First Sergeant needed. “Sir, I know that our top cover is your sister. Look you have to put that shit out of your head, boss. You go into a jump like this worried about her and you don’t come home.”

“Damn it Top! I know that.” Sylvester bitched. “It’s just that this one of the longest escort flights she has ever pulled. She’s out without a wingman flying over enemy controlled territory. We come under attack this rust bucket can pop the hatch and we bailout. We get down and still get the mission done. Terresa on the other hand has to fight her way all the home. She’s good Top, but sooner or later her luck is going to run out. That attack on the base by those Peacemakers damned near killer her then. I know for a fact that she has flown escort for every one of these deep strike drops. All four of them so far. That’s more than twenty-eight hours of flight time in sixty-hours. She’s going to burnout before long. Those new pilots are nowhere near ready to strap into the new Claymores. As it stands right now those fighters are the only ones that can support our operations. That means she is our only support. She goes down and we’re fracked big time, Top. So, don’t tell me that I shouldn’t worry.”

“Damn, sir. I thought you were only worried because she is your sister. I didn’t know that she was pushing the edge that hard. Shit! I don’t think any of us know!”

“Top, you and the other troops aren’t supposed to know. Those DPF pilots that came in the other day are still in their cocoons. They’re not due to pop the lids until sometime later today.” Sylvester sighed. “Look do me a favor. Keep the condition of the pilots under your hat. I know that the guys know that we’re short on pilots right now. I just don’t want them to know just how short we are. Got it?”

“Sure thing, boss. They won’t hear it from me. Not do me a favor and try to put your worries over your sister out of your mind.” Holding up his right hand the First Sergeant listed his reasons. “One, you worry, you lose concentration. Two, you lose concentration, you make mistakes. Three, you make mistakes, people get killed. Four, the more people get killed, the more mistakes. See what I’m getting at here, sir?”

Sylvester sighed. “Yeah, I see where you’re going, Top. I’ll get my head in the game. I just wish we didn’t have to go through with this damned operation. I don’t understand what is so fracking important about getting those bridges.”

“Those three bridges span the Greater Reo Grand gorge sir. Without those bridges it is a seven to ten-day hike to get around the gorge. More than enough time for the Empire to get us a large relief force. Look those two armored cavalry regiments of Tatiana’s Children of the Stars and the one-oh-first aren’t going to be enough to take back this planet, sir. That’s after we throw in those two medium mobile divisions that the New Texans have. I will give the Texans this much. They sure do know how to throw a party for out-of-town guests.” Even Sylvester had to chuckle at the First Sergeant’s party joke.

Before either man could say more the copilot for the HST walked back to them. “Major, Top, we’re two minutes out from our next drop zone.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Mans. Any sign of unfriendlies?” Sylvester asked.

“Just a few UVA’s about thirty klicks out. They’ve been popping up at regular intervals. Best guess would be standard over-flight intel operations. Nothing to worry about. Unless they can pick up our radar signature, which is doubtful, we’re still green for the mission.” The amount of pride in the Lieutenant’s voice over the HST’s stealth capabilities was just the right amount.

“Well, just do us all a favor. If we get pinged and have to go to battle stations. Tell your damned waist and turret gunners to double check their targets. They go shooting at my sister she won’t take it to kindly. She just might save the River Sluts the ammo and shoot us down herself.” Sylvester warned the cocky copilot.

The Lieutenant turned deadly serious as he took in Sylvester’s warning. “That is one thing we DON’T have to worry about. The Captain has already given that order. No offence sir, but me and the rest of the crew don’t trust Flight Lieutenant First Class Terresa Cole as far as we can throw this bird.”

“Why’s that?” The hard edge to Sylvester voice should have been warning enough for the young man.

“Permission to speak freely sir?” Sylvester just nodded to this request. “She is the only living Claymore pilot and has the highest kill rate on all of New Texas. She scares the ever-living shit out of any pilot or flight crew with common sense. Friend and foe alike sir. What she does in the air behind the stick of that bird of hers is unnatural. Almost supernatural at times. It’s like she becomes an avenging angle of death when she flies, sir.”

Sylvester hadn’t thought about how other pilots would see his sister. To him she was nothing more than an extremely skilled and lucky pilot. The idea of her being seen as some kind of supernatural creature never occurred to him. Then again to him the ways of pilots and aircrews were just as mysterious to him as he and his men’s ways were to them. He never really thought about the impact that Terresa had on pilots. For them to see a Claymore in their number must truly be frightening. In a very real way Terresa was a terrifying threat unlike any other for these men and women. Just the way that Terresa flies is unsettling for most of them.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Mans for your honesty. We’ll get the men ready for their drop zones. Hopefully nothing goes wrong from out and you guys get back to base in one piece. Knowing who your escort is you stand a good chance.” Sylvester hoped that he had given the young man enough confidence in his sister to allay his doubts.

The copilot just smiled and turned to head back for the cockpit. “Your mouth to the Gods’ ears sir. Your mouth to their ears. Glory or Death, Major.”

“Sir did that wingnut just wish for us to buy the farm?”

Sylvester just chuckled. “Nope, Top. That is just the way that pilots wish good luck. It’s like our battle cry.”

“Oh in that case I hope like hell he gets his wish. Because I highly doubt he wants us to answer back with Death is Dealt by our hand.” The First Sergeant chuckled.

“No, I doubt he would want to hear that or anyone else for that matter. For some reason, non-Death Dealers kind of don’t want to hear our battle cry. I wonder why?” Sylvester let the smirk play across his face.

“I have no idea sir.” The First Sergeant chuckled. “Come on sir. We’ve goofed off enough. Time to get to work.”

“You’re right, Top. Time to open the shop.” Sylvester walked towards his men calling out orders as he went.

Outside in the FB-11 Claymore.
I couldn’t believe the stupidity of General Davenport. For days she has been shooting down these missions. They’re all suicide missions. Delivering much needed troops to behind the enemy lines in some fracked-up attempt to destroy a bunch of bridges that can’t be hit from the air.

“It’s not my damned fault those bridges have a better antiair defense system than we have at the base. I tried to warn McManus and Davenport that the one time we tried an aerial bombing run would be a total flop. I mean, I’ve spent every waking hour going over tactical and strategic targets all over this god forsaken planet. I know where every last fracking AAA hard point is hidden. Where each and every last SAM site is stashed. Not to mention their radar and lidar sites. Stupid assed Commanding Officers. What do they do? Give anyone over the rank of Colonel a lobotomy?” I know that I am only talking to myself but it’s keeping me awake.

This is the fourth damned escort mission in three days. This one being the longest so far. I figured out that even with the HST pushing it at full thrust the round trip will take just over five hours. The problem with that is the HST cannot push it for that long of a period. Do that and they burn out their engines and waste fuel. All for little or no gain really. As it was even at seventy percent power the mission had a fifteen-hour total flight time.

“Terresa, why are you bitching so much? You know this is the only way to insure those bridges come down. Which has to happen before those eight divisions of Amazon reinforcements can link up with the current divisions on the Panhandle Plains.”

“That is not the problem Lilly. I know that those bridges have to be taken out. I just believe that they can be handled by the New Texans. Hell, they have enough retired Death Dealers, and Empyreal Army or Marines to form a full regiment.” I know that I sound like a whinny little girl just then, but I have damned good reason to be this way.

“Terresa, just what is your real reason for being so damned whinny? You’re normally far more reserved than this. What has you so on edge?”

“You try being composed and reserved while suffering from TBS damn it!” I snapped.

“Terresa, I am familiar with most human illnesses but I have never heard of this TBS. May I know so that I can help?”

Terresa sighed and was thankful for the fact that she was alone in the fighter just then. “Lilly, TBS stands for Tiny Bladder Syndrome.”

“Oh, I understand now. You have to urinate. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Lilly, think about it. Do you see some place for us to pull over and let me get out to take a restroom break?” I snarled. “In case you haven’t noticed fighters aren’t exactly equipped with restrooms either. I have been needing to take a piss for the last two hours.”

The giggle that came from the speakers made me wish that I could get my hands on Lilly just then. “You do realize that I can handle that problem for you Terresa?”

“NOW you tell me. After holding it for the last two hours. Were you going to tell about this at some point in time?” I growled out. “Will you just relieve the pressure already, Lilly?”

I don’t know what I was expecting but the pressure on my bladder was quickly reduced. I sighed in pure relief for the first time in two hours. “Thank you, Lilly. I forget that you’re there at times. That and you can do certain things for me. Besides just helping me fly this monster.”

“I understand Terresa. Besides, from what I have been able to gather during our short time together. You were never supposed to receive a Bio-AI or the Second-Gen Death Dealer upgrades. So, having me around is still rather new to you. It normally takes several months to one year before a host becomes used to their Bio-AI.”

“Thanks for trying to sooth my ego, Lilly. I know that I was never supposed to get a Bio-AI but that didn’t mean I didn’t learn a thing or two from my brother and sister about theirs. I really do need to start putting that knowledge to use.” I told Lilly as nicely as I could.

“Say Terresa, have you been watching those drones?”

“Yup, sure have Lilly. They have been popping up every fifteen to twenty minutes on our radar. Always staying at the extreme edge of detection and only for long enough to be spotted. Then they just drop off the scope.” I had been watching those nasty little buggers for more than five hours now. With each scan I have gotten a bit more data on them. “So far I have been able to id most of them as being DEL-TA UAV recon drones. There have been one or two K-9 Coon Dog drones.”

“I thought as much. Terresa, if those Coon Dogs get a solid lock on the HST we could have a major problem. All six of our ground attack missile pods were replaced with drop tanks for extra fuel instead of more air-to-air missiles. That severely handicaps our combat abilities.”

I sighed as I had already figured that point out. “Lilly, I know that already. It’s just another reason for this damned mission to have been scrubbed. What I don’t like is they cut back on our autocannon rounds. I mean it’s bad enough that I have to keep an eye on the round counter normally, but to just give us seventy-five rounds instead of our normal buck fifty is just fracked.”

“Let’s just be happy that they couldn’t take away the beam weapons. They did just about everything they could to lighten our load and extend our mission flight time.”

“I know Lilly, trust me, I know.” I told her. I didn’t like the way my fighter was set up for this mission any more than she did. “We just have to deal for now, sister. Once we get back mom should have popped the lid on those new pilots. In two days we’ll finally have some backup.”

“About those new pilots Terresa. If we have to pick one to be our wingman, make sure they are from the one-twenty-seventh. I know that most them were shoot down during the bombing attack on the base, but I have gone over their records. If they had been equipped with a more up to date fighter, it would have been totally different outcome. For a bunch of candy assed Marines, they sure know how to fly.”

“I had already thought about that Lilly. And I have pretty much decided that unless we get more missions like this one. I don’t want a wingman.” I really had thought about it. It had been on my mind ever sense I took on those Peacemakers. If I had had a wingman they would have pulled off or refused to climb to the edge of our combat performance ceiling. Ninety-nine percent of the pilots out there aren’t test pilots. Even fewer were willing to fly ‘coffin corner’. That was the type of pilot I needed as a wingman. Lilly must have picked up on my thoughts.

“Terresa, I believe that Colonel McQueen or his second in command Captain Anderson will fit the bill. Both men have experience flying the old Ye-155R Foxbat recon aerospace fighters. They know coffin corner well.” I was stunned to say the least when I heard this about the two men. “They are also both experienced test pilots.”

“Well shit. I might have to rethink my position on the two men. Still, I prefer to work alone Lilly. This way we don’t have to worry about anyone but us. No having to cover for some glory hound out to make a name for themselves.” I know that it sounded cold and harsh, but it was the truth. I already had other pilots at the base approach me to be my wingman. All answered the same way when I asked why. My kill rate was the reason why they wanted to partner up. They all figured that if they were my wingman maybe they could get a few kills of their own.

“Terresa, I know and understand your reasons hon. But, sooner or later Colonel McManus is going to saddle you with a wingman. If only to keep James off his ass. Word is spreading like wildfire on the base that you two are a couple.”

Before I could reply to Lilly’s comment my attention was drawn to the radar. “Lilly are those returns closing?”

“Terresa, we need to take evasive action. Those are not UAVs. They’re Il-2 Shturmovik’s and they are coming on fast.”

“Oh shit! Do you have count on those Hunchbacks yet?”

“Working on it, Terresa. Right now you need to get our asses turned around to face those bitches. NOW!”

I keyed my mike and opened up a channel to the HST. “Copperhead, this is Scorpion. We got unwelcome guests. Initiate emergency drop procedures now. Over”

“Copy that Scorpion. Drop our boys and girls then run like hell. Take care and see you back at base Scorpion. Copperhead Out.”

I sighed as I knew that they would leave me out here on my own. It was in the operations orders. I pull back on the stick and give the right ruder enough push to send my fighter into a high climbing turn. I need to get above and behind those Il-2s fast. As strong as my armor is those damned things are more like flying tanks. Of all the aerospace fighters in production the Il-2s are some of the heaviest at eighty-five tons. They are also some of the most maneuverable in the skies. Between the armor and maneuverability, they become one of the deadliest fighters there is not to mention versatile.

I go over the specs for the Il-2 trying to remember where the weak points are. Lilly helps out by displaying their specs on the HUD. As I read them I groan.
Length: 11.6 m (38 ft 1 in)
Wingspan: 14.6 m (47 ft 11 in)
Height: 4.2 m (13 ft 9 in)
Wing area: 38.5 m² (414 ft²)
Empty weight: 75 tons
Loaded weight: 80 tons
Max. takeoff weight: 85 tons
Powerplant: 1 × Mikulin AM-38F ramjet
2 × fixed forward-firing 23×152mm VYa-23 cannons, 150 rounds per gun
2 × fixed forward-firing 7.62mmR ShKAS Pulse Plasma Laser
2 × manually aimed 12.7 Berezin UBT Pulse Plasma Laser rear cockpit
8 × RS-82 rockets 4 × RS-132 rockets
When I got to the end of the specs I knew that I was in for a fight. My only advantage was in speed and firepower. I could dump the external fuel tanks. That would allow me more speed and increase my maneuverability in the short term. I the long term it would cut down on my flight time. I would need a refuel if I survived this fight. Long before I ever got within range of the base. Once again I’m stuck with a catch 22 and no way real answer.

“Ah the hell with it. I’ll either be dead or needing to make a highspeed run for the base here shortly. I’m keeping those tanks.” I said aloud as I swung around high on the Il-2s six o’clock.

“I was wondering if you were going to keep them Terresa. I can give you a compromise. If we drop the number five and six tank we’ll still have enough fuel to reach our airspace and a refuel tanker. That’ll give us a slightly better performance.”

“No Lilly we’ll keep them all or none of them. Remember what I said about this being a one-way trip. Well, now we either live or die. The base doesn’t have the resources for another mid-air refuel for us. Not with the other four deep strike missions that are being carried out right now.” I decided to be honest with Lilly.

“Glory or death, Terresa. Glory or death. Been nice knowing you.”

“Glory or death Lily. As for counting us out, don’t. I am not about to die a damned virgin. Besides there are only three of those bad boys, and we have the advantage.”

“Terresa, please explain to me how in the hell we have the advantage. We’re out numbered, outgunned, and they have a very distinct weight advantage.”

“They’re nowhere nearly as pissed off as I am.” I growled out as I push the stick forward into the dive that would bring me down between the three enemy fighters. As I neared them I started to receive a return on the Friend Foe receiver. I could not believe my eyes. “Lilly are those friendly markers?”

“Um… yes they are Terresa. Any idea of who they might be?”

“Don’t know, Lilly. Only one way to find out.” I keyed the mike and opened the guard channel. “Unidentified aircraft at point nine-seven-one-one. This is Scorpion. Over”

“Scorpion, this is escort flight Tiger One-two-one. Tiger led, Over”

“Tiger led, this is Scorpion. State your route and flight path. Over”

“Scorpion, we are a diplomatic flight. Escorting President-elect D.G. Burnet to White Sands Research Development Center. We were told that you would provide additional escort cover. Over”

I was floored. Now, I knew why General Davenport had approved this mission. With the diplomatic flight passing along the same flight path the River Sluts would never expect us to run a deep strike team into the area. It was a straight up violation of the articles of war. Then again, they had already broken those articles by popping the nukes. If the higher ups wanted to dance around the moral edge that was none of her concern. So long as they didn’t put her ass on the line.

“Copy that Tiger led. I’ll fall in on your primary’s six. Over” I knew that Tiger Led would reject my suggestion. I really didn’t want those jackasses on my six but if I have to I’ll be keeping my hand on the throttles. I got the reply I was expecting and then some.

“Negative, Scorpion. You’re to take led position. You’re our pathfinder. Over”

“Copy that Tiger Led.” I dropped down until I was about four miles in front of the Il-2s and eased my throttles back until I was once more running at just over seventy percent. “Pull up on your throttles Tiger flight. We got a long way to go. Over”

“Care to explain why Scorpion? Over”

“Unless you have a gas station in route your need to throttle back, Tiger Led. Over” Just as I hoped they told me more than what I wanted.

“We’re cleared for a mid-air just after we enter the secured airspace of Whiskey Sara, Scorpion. There is Stratotanker stationed just for our refuel Scorpion. Over”

That was all I needed to know. They didn’t trust this jocker or his escort. If shit goes sideways I’m bailing. It also means that if they double cross us, I’m cleared to blow them out of the skies. That didn’t mean that I had to tell them that. “Copy that Tiger Led. Just tuck in tight and stay on my six. Out”

I switched back over to the network I had been using for the HST. “Copperhead, this Scorpion. How copy? Over”

“Five by five Scorpion. Over”

“Copperhead, have you made your drop yet? Over”

“We’re free and clear Scorpion. Heading for base now. Why? Over”

“Then burn up the skies Copperhead. There’s a gas station just over the line. Refuel and head for home. Understand? Over” I going to force the New Texans to waste fuel and then wait to refuel. Only they weren’t going to reach full a Stratotanker I was going to make sure of that. They want to use my people as a distraction then guess what. I’m going to throw a fracking monkey wrench into their plans. Let ’em try and reach White Sands on fumes.

“Copy Scorpion. I take it that our guests were trying to use us for bate? Over”

“That’s a big ROGER on that, Copperhead. Now, get gone. Over”

“We’re one with the winds, Scorpion. Copperhead Out” I wanted to laugh at the HST pilot. The man knew what to do, and why he was doing it without being told. My kind of pilot. Hell bent for leather with his ass on fire.

“Well Lilly, it looks like we get to play babysitter a little longer.” I sighed and then flipped the radar over to long range passive. I wanted as much warning as I could get. Especially if the Texans decided to double cross me.

“I take it that you don’t trust our friends, Terresa. They did show up at just the right time to screw with the deep strike deployment. Should I go ahead and get hard radar locks on the escorts?”

I wanted to laugh at the very nasty snarl in Lilly’s voice. For some reason I believe that she would happily blast our ‘friends’ out of the skies. “Only if you can do so without tipping them off Lilly.”

“Terresa, there many things that I can do without tipping off those backstabbing rats. That is the least of them. Now, you just sit there and fly this beautiful fighter back towards base as planned. They try to double cross us they’ll be dead before they can say oh shit. Just be ready to yank and bank.”

“No worries there, sister. You say the word and I’ll have us on their six faster than you can snap to.” I already knew that I could out fly them. I just had to get the first move in.

White Sands R-n-D Center Main Hospital Building

Andria and Sylvia Cole stood off to one side as the first of the new Second-Gen cocoons opened. Both women were on pins and needles. They had run multiple simulations for the new Second-Gens that Terresa had proposed. With the exception of one time, all the simulations were success. They knew that the new nanities were the answer to AI-burnout in aerospace pilots. Even with all those successful simulations they were still afraid of something going wrong. This was after all an experimental procedure at best.

Even after they explained this to the volunteer pilots not one back away. In fact, the response was almost the same from each them. ‘Glory or death.’ Their response took Sylvia a little by surprise. She had never really dealt with men and women so willing to face a possible painful death, no matter how slim the chance. For Andria it was nothing new. She had operated on more than one injured pilot or aircrew member during her time in the military.

Andria was the first to spot the deference between the Second-Gen pilots and the regular Second-Gen Death Dealers. The tallest of them was no more than five-foot six-inches tall. The average height for these pilots was around five-five. The shortest was around five-four. None of them looked as if they had extra muscle mass. They all had that wiry build of a will trained runner. In other words, they were all short, slim, and extremely fit. Another thing that stood out was the fact that they crossed all races. Black, white, oriental, Hispanic, even one elf.

Another thing that stood out was their bio-armor was a silver-gray in color. Unlike regular Second-Gen Death Dealers whose armor was forest green with black accents. Another striking feature were the eyes of these pilots. Before they entered the cocoons their eye color range all across the spectrum. Now, they all had golden irises with red crosshairs. Andria knew right away that this was a sign the H.H.S.S. portion of the programing had taken. Looking over at her daughter, Sylvia.

“Looks like we were successful, Major. Let’s get them settled down and adjusted to their new bodies. I have a feeling that when Terresa gets back we’re going to need them. Most likely sooner than later.”

“Alright mother. What do you know that the rest of us don’t?” Sylvia asked quietly.

“I was at the morning Command Briefing when Command Sergeant Major Southerland told General Davenport that the New Texas President elect is flying in. He is coming here to try and negotiate our surrender to the Amazon forces.” Looking over at the new Second-Gen pilots Andria dropped her voice extremely low, barely a whisper. “Price James had me include a loyalty program as part of their upgrades.”

Sylvia wanted to scream at her mother for doing something like that. It was a violation of the Medical ethics code. And would have done so if they were alone. Schooling her features Sylvia took a hold of her mother’s arm and dragged her outside. Once they were alone Sylvia rounded on her mother. “How could you do that Mother?! You would have killed someone else for doing something like that.”

“And your sister is going to be flying with those men and women in there. If they were normal Empyreal Military I wouldn’t have even considered it. But they’re not. They may be wearing Empyreal Marine uniforms, but they’re not Empyreal Marines. Listen to me here Sylvia. Those men and women are all members of the New Texas militia Marines. If I have to hijack their loyalty to the Empire over New Texas to protect your sister I fracking will. I’m also doing it to give us a fighting chance. I don’t know if you heard or not, but we’re losing this damned war. There are currently twenty-one heavy divisions of Amazon Regular Military on this planet right now. That doesn’t count the fourteen regiments of mercs that are now on planet. The River Sluts have lost New Carolina. They either take New Texas or they lose everything. Davenport let it slip during this morning’s briefing that the enter Twenty-second Death Dealers Battlegroup along with all eighteen of its combat divisions will be in system and planet side within nine days.” Andria knew that she could trust her daughter with this information.

“Holy shit! The enter Twenty-second Death Dealers Battlegroup? My goddess! Mother that is that going to be too much? I mean that sounds like overkill.” Sylvia was aghast that the Empress would send that kind of military force to deal with what was essentially a planetary war so far. The idea of eighteen Death Dealer combat divisions hitting one lone planet was enough to send most people screaming into the night.

“This is one time that I am going to take your sister’s favorite saying Sylvia. There is no such thing as overkill. Only open fire and I need to reload.” Andria gave her daughter a hard look. “You have been lucky Sylvia. Your whole career has been on R-n-D postings. Very shortly you and every last doctor on this base are going to be faced with the bloody price of war. So far the Amazons haven’t been able to mount a direct attack on this base or the troops here. The ones that have come in from the other bases were taken care of during flight or at emergency aid stations before being evacced off planet to the Medical Dropship Bifrost. That one act saved you and the medical staff here from seeing the first rounds of wounded.”

“Not all of them mother!” Sylvia snapped. “We got a good deal of them here too. We did our best to save them all. We know the price. We have all see the butcher’s bill. I just don’t think that dropping eighteen combat division on New Texas is the answer. We should be trying to deescalate the conflict. Not ramp it up.”

Andria sighed as she understood her daughter’s dilemma. As a doctor who has sworn to do no harm the idea of increasing the number of combatants was contradictory. Andria had spent more than enough time in the military to know that sometimes it took young men and women dying in great numbers to bring about what Sylvia wanted.

“Sylvia, you know that I love. But right now, I want to pound you. If those division don’t land in the next ten days, we may have to abandon New Texas and its citizens to the Amazons. If that happens it will take twenty to thirty combat divisions to retake the planet and free those citizens. The casualties will be three to four times higher if we just hold on and wait for the relief forces. That is who we are fighting for, not the politicians who want to make a name for themselves. And soon, very soon, the price for those efforts will be paid in blood.” Andria could see the realization of what she was saying in Sylvia’s eyes.

“Let’s get back inside mom. I understand what you wanted to do for Terresa. You made sure those new pilots are only loyal the Empire. This way they’ll be less likely to shoot her in the back. I get that. Do I like it? No. But I won’t stand in your way of ensuring that she has someone covering her ass in the air.” Sylvia just turned and headed back inside.

Andria just sighed at the retreating back of her oldest daughter. “I hope like hell you don’t let your baby sister know your views, Sylvia. I know that Terresa won’t think twice about telling you to grow the frack up and get a clue. She has become a true warrior of the skies.”

The sounds of engines overhead drew Andria’s attention. When she spotted the HST returning alone Andria knew that something had gone wrong. How bad she would have to wait to find out. First, she had to deal with the new pilots. Heading inside Andria began helping with the reorientation of the new pilots. Only one of which would need extra attention as she had undergone an unexpected gender change. The biggest bitch that most of them had was the loss in height and body mass.

White Sands, Airfield.

Chief Daily was the first one to reach the HST as it rolled to a stop. The fact it had returned early but also without Terresa had him worried. He had watched as the transport came in for landing while scanning the skies for his pilot and bird. Not seeing the Silver-Eyed-Witch he wanted answers and he wanted them now. He wasn’t going to wait for the so called official report.

As the pilot and copilot exited by the crew chute Chief Daily cornered the two men. “Where is my bird and pilot? You didn’t leave her to fend for herself, did you?”

“Relax Chief, Lieutenant Cole is about thirty minutes behind us. She is coming in with the New Texas diplomatic flight.” The pilot told him.

“Shit! I just knew those frackers would try and pull something like this. Thank you, Captain. Did you at least get the Major and his people close enough to their drop zones? Or were you forced to perform an emergency drop?” Daily knew that if the Captain went with the emergency drop the mission was close to a disaster.

“Thankfully, Lieutenant Cole bought us enough time to scramble. We got to our drop zones and bugged out. It wasn’t pretty, Chief, but it is mission accomplished.” The Captain answered Chief with a grim look in his eyes. “My crew was sweating bullets and chewing nails the whole way home. If those cowboys get here in one piece they won’t be for long. I plan to be looking the other way as my crew beats the shit of them and take bets on the side.”

“Sir, if they show up without my pilot and bird your crew won’t get the chance.” Daily growled as he started to walk away. “I’ll kill ’em all for you.”

As his copilot stepped up beside him the HST pilot lite up his first cigarette in hours. “Mans, let’s pray that Scorpion gets back safe and sound.”

“Why’s that Skipper?”

“Because if she doesn’t get home safe and sound that delegation from the New Texas Government is going to end up dead. I doubt that the Prince knows they’re in route as we speak either. Because if he does, then someone used that flight as a cover for our operation. Which we both know is a great big fracking no-no. Come on let’s get some chow and then showers followed up with some shuteye. I figure we got maybe twelve to fourteen hours before we get another mission.”

“You thinking deep strike drop Skipper?” Mans could tell that his C.O. was unsettled about something.

“Nope. Not a deep strike. More like using those six Martin B-57 Canberra’s that made it through production. They got the range, speed, and armament for heavy bombing runs on the River Sluts. They just need pilots, which we have. It only takes eight to nine hours of training to switch from transports to bombers. At last count there twelve fully qualified transport flight teams on this base. That is more than double what is needed to fly those birds.”

“You don’t think those yahoos are going to push for bombing attacks do you?” Mans asked as he and the pilot walked towards the chow hall.

“Between you, me, and that RBZ-750, yes. Either that or trying to force General Davenport to evac the planet. Which we both know won’t be happening. Death Dealers never retreat and never surrender. Now that those two regiments of Armored Cavalry have started harassment operations the Death Dealers are taking the fight straight down the enemy’s throat. Once they do that, the Death Dealers will rip out their hearts and spit on their graves.”

“Damn, Skipper. That’s frack harsh. How do you know so much about the Death Dealers?”

“My grandfather served underneath one of the meanest Death Dealers in their history. When they say that Death is dealt by their hand. They fracking mean it.” the Captain stopped at the doors to the chow hall. “Mans, listen very closely to me on this. The next mission we get we do not leave our escort behind. No matter what the circumstances, we do not abandon our escorts.”

“Gotcha boss. We all come home or none of us come home.” Mans knew that his Skipper won’t change his mind on those orders. Both men had their attention drawn towards the runway by the familiar sound of powerful and unique twin engines. Engines that currently belonged only to one fighter. Scanning the skies, the two men spotted the distinctive twin tails of the FB-11 passing overhead heading for the main runway. Mans breathed a massive sigh of relief. “Um… Skipper, I think we just had our bacon save by the grace of good fortune and the goddess.”

“Mans, there are times you have a gift for stating the obvious.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 19
Death Dealers Command Center, White Sands RDC
General Carol Davenport and Prince James Nakatoma were the only ones in the TOC as they waited for President Elect D.G. Burnet and the eight members his Cabinet. The diplomatic flight had landed over two hours ago. For whatever reason the New Texas delegation were playing games. Political games that Carol Davenport and James Nakatoma were well versed in. They also knew that this President Burnet was not the dully elected President but a puppet mouth piece for the Amazons. The man was a true collaborator of the first order.

“Permission to speak freely your Highness?” Carol asked of James.

“Granted General on one condition. When it’s just us there are no ranks or titles. It’s just James. Understood?” It was not Lieutenant Colonel Nakatoma talking with a superior officer but Crown Prince James Nakatoma.

“James why do I have the feeling that we’re getting played here?” Carol asked bluntly. “We both know that delegation is a sham. So, why are we even entertaining this happy horseshit political asinine scheme?”

“We don’t have a choice, Carol. They are supposedly the actual New Texas Government representatives. Unless we hear them out the Amazons can go to the Empyreal Parliament saying we have broken the Accords.” James sighed then looked over at the door. “When they come in let them be the first to talk.”

“James, why do I have the feeling that you’ve learned this trick from your mothers?”

“Let’s just say that I spent more than a few hours watching them have fun with self-important jackasses over the years.” James chuckled as he remembered the times when he watched his mother Maiha tear apart some political suit monkey in the throne room aboard Ryuk. “Only this is going to be more like an Alturian Standoff. Whoever blinks first is the loser. A dead loser.”

“I take it that you don’t plan for the delegation to leave here alive?”

“That all depends on how they act and react, Carol. I fully expect for them to demand our immediate evac from New Texas. You and I, both know the truth behind this delegation. Hell, for the last ten days we’ve been dealing with that ass hat of a Planetary Governor Ferguson. Whoever this President D.G. Burnet is has to be a mouth piece for the River Sluts.” James let his anger over having to sit down and talk with the New Texas Delegation. “Just remember when they come in, get a hard lock on them with your antipersonnel lasers and hold it. They blink we cut them in half. They order us off the planet they die. Understood General?”

“By your command, my Prince.” Carol Davenport knew that she technically out ranked James, but in this politically charged situation she bowed to his judgement. Carol may have had to play political games in the past, but she had nowhere near the experience of the Crown Prince. She knew that James had grown up in the very highest halls of power playing at the knees of the Empress while she held Court. If he wanted the New Texas Delegation dead. Then Carol Davenport would kill them without a second thought. Not because it was a royal command, but that James Nakatoma had earned her respect as first as an officer, second as a Death Dealer.

“Thank you for having my back, Carol.” Was all that James could say. Their conversation was brought to a halt by the arrival of the New Texas Delegation. In a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s show time.”

Carol and James remained sitting as the delegation filed into the room. The first of which came the supposed Secretary of State and the rest of the Presidential Cabinet. The last member of the delegation to enter was D.G. Burnet. Only he was not the last to enter. The sight of the five-foot silver haired beauty just behind him brought a slight sigh of relief from James. He knew that Terresa had been pulling the escort missions for the deep strike teams. He also knew that she was pushing the ragged edge physically and mentally.

When neither James or Carol stood up for the delegation they became upset. Their Secretary of State spoke up first. “We see that the Empire has no respect for the true leaders of New Texas. I believe we should leave.”

The sound of an automatic pistol slide drew their attention behind them. Terresa stood there with her Tactical 45 in her hand with the hammer cocked. The faint smile that played at her mouth never reached her eyes. “The first one of you fudge packers moves towards that door I’ll blow your head off. I did not spend the last six and a half hours flying top cover for your asses for nothing. Now, sit the frack down or die. The choice is yours.”

“You dare to point a weapon at the elected President of New Texas. I’ll have you.” Before the Secretary of State could finish the threat Terresa pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into the ceiling over the man’s head. No one from the delegation expected her sudden act of controlled violence. Only James and Carol expected Terresa Coles’ reaction to the threat made by the Secretary. James knew the moment that Terresa pulled her sidearm she was passed the point of being pissed off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would suggest that you all follow the Flight Lieutenant’s orders. She gets rather testy when she has been awake and flying for more than twelve hours at a time. I believe the last time someone pissed her off, after an extra long flight, she rearranged their major joints.” Carol was smiling as she spoke to the delegation in a tone that was too sweet for social politeness.

“You’re just going to sit there and let this upstart Claymore slag speak to us in such a manor?” Demanded Burnet of Carol.

“Not only am I going to let the young lady talk to you in such a manor, Burnet. If you don’t follow her instructs I’m going to give her a royal order to end these discussions before they even begin.” James snarled.

“General if you cannot control your junior officers then we’ll have to take measures to control them for you.” The next member of the Cabinet ordered.

“Let’s get things straight here people.” Carol said from where she sat. “To my left is Crown Prince James Nakatoma. The young lady behind you is Flight Lieutenant First Class Terresa Cole. Both of whom have more have earned my respect. You on the other hand don’t have a leg to stand. Now. Sit! The! Frack! Down!”

The members of the New Texas delegation took the none too subtle hint and sat down at the table. The fact that none of them were armed just drove them to truly understand how precarious their situation was. When the four members of James lance walked in behind Terresa they all now knew for certain that they were in a room full of Death Dealers. Death Dealers that would not think twice about killing them all. The Wild Cards arranged themselves to cover the delegation in such a way that no one was left without a target.

Burnet gave Carol a harsh look. “There is no need for the other Death Dealers, General Davenport. We can hash out this problem without their input. Send them away and we’ll be about our business.”

“See, that is where we disagree, Mister Burnet. Before you go spouting off that your title is President I’ve double checked the New Texas Constitution. Your position is the President of Congress. Not the President or Governor of New Texas. In short you don’t really have a say in what happens on this planet. Nor can you overrule your Governor Ferguson or his Lieutenant Governor. They want us here.” Carol davenport answered back hotly.

“That is where you’re wrong, General.” Burnet told her. “Seeing as how Governor Ferguson and Lieutenant Governor Hues have vacated their posts. I do have the right to represent the people of New Texas.”

That was all James needed to hear. “It seems that we have already reached an impasse General Davenport. I believe that I can offer a solution.”

“You do not have anything to offer, Major Nakatoma.” Burnet snapped.

“That is where you’re wrong butthead.” Terresa called out from where she stood. “By the way HIS title is Crown Prince James Nakatoma. Don’t forget it.”

“If that… Thing opens its mouth again I will personally close it for good.” One of the Cabinet members sneered.

The bullet that torn through the man’s hand and the crack of Terresa’s pistol were almost simultaneous. No one in the room saw her draw her pistol or drop the safety. Even as she returned her sidearm to the holster Terresa let the smile play at her lips. “That was a warning. The next time one of you jackasses insults me they’ll die just as fast. Only the next time I will do it barehanded.”

“You can take that to the damned bank gentlemen. You’ve seen what she can do on her own with an aerospace fighter. You don’t want to see what she can do when she’s pissed off and ready to kill.” Chuckled Heather Pike on the other side of the room.

“Our little Silver Eyed Witch is death on the wing and with her bare fracking hands. You sorry excuses for human beings won’t stand a chance in hell against her.” The voice of Steven Light Horse held a fine note of mischief as he gave warning to the New Texas Delegation. “I’ll give twenty to one odds on Terresa breaking the next asshole’s neck in three places. Any takers?”

“Steven will you behave. The Prince is trying to conduct negotiations here with the kind folks from New Texas.” Joseph Silver Leaf quickly put an end to Steven’s antics. He knew that James was trying his best to keep things civil. For now.

“Knock it off all of you.” James ordered his friends. Turning to face the New Texas Delegation he put on his best political smile and graces. “Ladies and gentlemen let me put your position into perspective. As General Davenport pointed out earlier you don’t have a leg to stand on. Your claims as being the legitimate representatives for the New Texas are worthless.”

“We are the duly appointed representatives for the current ruling parties, Nakatoma. Either accept this fact or face certain destruction.” Burnet countered.

James looked across the table at the man and then smiled. “All hail the Collective?”

As one the members of the Delegation stood up, threw their right arms out at a forty-five-degree angle and shouted. “All Hail the Collective!”

The moment the eight members of the delegation had performed the salute they knew that they had outed themselves. The clones slowly looked around the room as the sounds of Pulse Plasma Lasers were deployed. James looked up at the Burnet clone with a sly and very knowing smile.

“Yes, I knew exactly who you are, and who you are not. Personally, I could give a shit less about where you come from. Only you’re not going to claim to be the legal representatives for the people of New Texas.” He leaned back in his chair.

“What tipped you off to our real identities?” Burnet asked never taking his eyes off of Terresa. Of all the gathered Death Dealers, she was the one that worried him the most. She had already shown a willingness to use violence.

“You’re masters should have removed the personal information on all the members of the New Texas government form the net. Let me be clear Burnet. You’re not leaving here. You came here under false pretenses. Those pretenses now place under a death sentence for espionage. Which means that you don’t get to dictate shit around here. In fact, because you’re all CLONES you’re no longer considered POWs, but spies.” James sighed as he looked at the eight members of the false delegation. “However you have come here under a flag of truce. As such all that I or General Davenport can do is return you to your transport and escort you out of the area. Understand something though. If you should attempt to report what you have seen here today.”

James never got to finish the threat as the door to the conference room burst open and a young Corporal rushed into the room going straight to General Davenport. “Ma’am, we have just received reports of seven heavy APS divisions advancing on the base. They’re companied by five light Infantry and two Cavalry divisions.”

“How soon will they reach our outer markers, Corporal?” Davenport demanded as her eyes bored into the clones.

“Five to six hours ma’am.” The Corporal knew that the General wasn’t going to like the next piece of the report. “Ma’am, according to the reports they have three squadrons of air support. Two of the squadrons are the new North American F-86 Sabre jets. The last is comprised of KV-81 Sturmgewehr’s. We will be within strike distance of their air support in four hours, ma’am.”

Terresa’s ears perked up at the news of there being a full squadron of KV-81’s in support of this attack. The Black Witch had to be here this time. And this time that bitch wasn’t getting away. Either Terresa would go down in flames or the Witch would. She just needed to get to her fighter.

Davenport looked over at James who had turned red with rage. “You come here under a flag of truce, yet your masters march on this base with the equivalent of a full army group. I was more than willing to talk peace with you. Your masters have now taken that option away.” James seethed out barely controlling his blood rage.

Burnet gave James a predatory smile. “Oh, I highly doubt that Nakatoma. You just have to surrender your troops to the Supreme Commander and hand over all your military technology. You do this and your life will be spared Prince James.”

The unmistakable threat to the troops of the 82nd Death Dealer Division and to James himself finally pushed the prince over the edge. The flash of his anti-personnel lasers cut the eight men down before they knew what hit them. As the heads of the eight clones rolled across the floor James turned to Davenport. “General, I think it’s time to put an end to this war.”

“I would love to Prince James. Only how do you suggest we do this?” Davenport snapped out sarcastically. She then held up her left hand and started to count off the individual problems they face with her fingers. “First, we are facing a total of fourteen divisions of combat troops. Seven of them being APS divisions. That gives the River Sluts a seven to one advantage in Armored Power Suits. Next, they out number our Cavalry and Infantry by more than six to one. I won’t even go into the simple fact that we have a total of thirty pilots. Of those only twenty are fighter pilots. That means they are outnumbered by twelve to one. So, unless you happen to have eighteen to twenty divisions of heavy armor and AP Suites hidden up your sleeve somewhere. I suggest that we abandon the base and head for the hills.”

“That is something we cannot do General. We need the base. As for facing those incoming divisions the answer is simple. They have only two avenues for a ground-based attack on this base. Both of which we control. We blow the Northeast passage. Cause a landslide cutting off that approach. It will force the River Sluts over the Northwest passage buying us enough time to fortify the valley floor and walls. We turn the whole valley into one massive kill box. As for fighter cover we have the new Death Dealer pilots and an FB-11 Claymore for each one.” James gave Davenport a wiry smile. “That should more than equal out the odds.”

“I hope you’re right Colonel. Because if your plan fails, I’ll haunt your ass and your family’s ass for all eternity.” Davenport snorted. Turning to Terresa. “Flight Lieutenant Cole, do you think you can buy us the time needed to seal the Northeast passage way?”

“Give me six Mark eight Hawk air-to-ground missiles and I’ll close that passage down for you in one pass. Those rockfaces are so unstable from our fly overs at supersonic speeds that they will come down faster than the panties for a two-credit whore on payday outside of the base gates. The only problem is where do you want the landslides. We have seven points which will work for our purposes.” Terresa answered quickly while pulling up a map of the two mountain passages that James and the General were talking about. Pointing to the western passage Terresa smile. “I would like to point out that I can make two bombing runs that will force those divisions to swing clear around to the East before being in position to attack.”

“How is that Lieutenant? What do you know that we don’t?” Davenport asked. She was already liking where the Lieutenant was going with her plan.

“Both passages have been used for Snake training. That’s low-level flight training runs in valleys, canyons, and mountain terrain. The shockwaves of our flights through those passes have really play hell with the rockfaces. From what the Combat Engineers have said they spend somewhere between seven to ten days a month clearing the fallen debris off the roadways and passage floor.” There was a predatory smile gracing Terresa’s face as she delivered the coup de grace. “If we time it right we could very well catch some of their advance recon units in the passes. I figure that we could take out between one to two Calvary units.”

Davenport looked over at James. “Why is she smiling that way? Is that a good thing?”

James and the rest of the Wild Cards started to chuckle. “General, when our dear Flight Lieutenant First class Terresa Cole smiles like that I have only one piece of advice. Run. Run and don’t look back. Because the little lady is about to rain down ten kinds of hell on some poor dumb deserving ignorant son-of-a-bitch.”

“HEY! I’m not that bad!” Terresa protested as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes, you are, love.” James replied as he pulled her into a hug. “Now, tell us what you need to pull off this attack. And how long do you think it’ll buy us.”

“Like I said six Mark eight Hawks and a target location. As for how much time the attacks will buy us. I have say anywhere between four to five days. Maybe as much as six. It all depends on if they can reroute their divisions in time to avoid the land slides. Those canyon passage walls are way too steep to climb unless by foot. You can forget about taking an APS, tank, IFV, or even a FASTV those passages if there is a significant landside event. Hell, the only way you get anything through them now is because we keep the roadway clear.” Terresa answered.

James looked over at Davenport then gave Terresa a smile. “Take care of arming your fighter Lieutenant. And this time take a wingman with you. That is an order, Lieutenant. There are more than enough pilots on this base now. Not to mention fighters to provide you with a wingman.”

Terresa didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I can handle this mission on my own, sir. I don’t NEED a wingman. Besides none of those new pilots have been checked out on the FB-11 Claymore yet.” Terresa knew that she had them with that. There was no way that Davenport would endanger pilots needlessly by sending them out in unfamiliar fighters.

“Lieutenant, there are twenty men and women that can handle that bird. So, pick a fracking damned wingman.” Davenport ordered her. Then she smiled at Terresa. “Relax Lieutenant. It’s not like you’re getting married or anything.”

White Sands flight line.
I couldn’t believe what General Davenport had ordered. For the past week I’ve been perfectly happy flying missions all on my own. I had no need for a damned wingman. So, why was she sticking me with one now. It made no sense in my book. But I followed orders. I spend the entire walk over to the flight line going over the records of the seven so called test pilots. I wasn’t surprised to see Colonel McQueen or Captain Anderson on the list. The other five though were a surprise. All of them were members of the 127th and had extensive test pilot training.

I know that I could have Colonel McQueen as my wingman. General Davenport said she would approve the request, but it didn’t feel right to me. Then there was Captain Anderson. I won’t mind have her as my wingman, but she is already spoken for, and I don’t plan on breaking that pairing up. It’s just bad mojo to something like that. Of the remaining five all were Flight Lieutenants Second Class. The fact that they were all trained test pilots made my choice all that harder. I know that I need a wingman, because sooner or later my luck will run out, but why now. I mean I can get the mission completed on my own.

As I walk around the bunker for my Claymore I am brought up short. McQueen and all the pilots of the 127th are standing there waiting for me. What is surprising is the only elf in the group is standing in front of them all. I begin to wonder what is up when she steps in front of me holding out her hand.

“Lieutenant Cole it seems that I drew the short straw. The name’s Kasey Stone. I’m your new wingman. Glad to meet ya.” I just took her hand and sighed.

“Nice to meet you as well, Lieutenant Stone. Only you’re not on the approved list of pilots for my wingman. Let me explain why.” Turning to the rest of the 127th I raise my voice. “Unless you’re test pilot qualified or have Recon pilot training you will not be flying the Claymores. That is not up to me. You got a beef about the qualifications take it up with the Division Commander. Not me.”

“Wrong, Lieutenant Cole.” McQueen snapped. “You fly with who I tell you to fly with. Got that? Now, gives us a familiarization class on the Claymore.”

I gave McQueen a harsh look then turned to where Chief Daily was standing with his arms crossed shaking his head. I decided to ignore the Colonel and his ignorance. “Chief! Full ground attack loadout on the Witch. No air-to-air. We got a mission, and no time for bullshit. Snap to it boys.”

“Lieutenant I gave you an order.” McQueen tried to push.

“And I heard it and decided to ignore it, Colonel. You may think you’re in charge around here but you ain’t. Now frack off jarhead.” With that I turned back to Chief Daily. “Chief let’s get the Witch ready for war.”

“Sorry, LT, but until you pick a wingman I got orders to ground you and the Witch.” The look in his eyes let me know that he didn’t like the orders but would follow them. No matter how much they pissed him off.

“Who gave you those orders Chief?” I growled out.

“General Davenport, ma’am.” The look in his eyes was enough to let me know that the orders were legit. I was now between a rock and a hard place.

“Fine. I’ll pick a wingman.” I turned around and saw a smug look on McQueens face. He just knew that he was going to tell who I could and couldn’t fly with. Well he was in for a rude awaking. “Soto, you up for a fast class on the Claymore?”

“You will be giving us all a class on the Claymore Lieutenant. And your wingman is going to be Lieutenant Stone as I have already stated.” McQueen ordered me with a smug look. It was that look that pissed me off even more.

“Chief Daily, if this jarhead opens his fracking mouth one more time on my flight line you are cleared to shoot his ass.” I got right up in McQueen’s face. “Let me be extremely clear here Colonel. I got a fracking mission to run. I don’t have time to deal with political bullshit. I don’t trust you or your pilots. I only trust the men and women of the six-hundred and twenty-eighth Squadron to cover my ass. They have earned that respect. You and your Johnny-come lately frack nuts haven’t. The only reason I am even taking one of your people as a wingman is because of orders. If your pilot can’t keep up with me in the air, I’m leaving his ass to swing. I will hit my target and not give one shit about your pilot. Got It?!”

I know that I was pushing it with McQueen. But I just didn’t have time to deal with the bullshit. I figured if I put all my cards on the table he would back down. The smile that came to his face surprised me. “Fair enough Lieutenant Cole. Seeing as how that is how you’re going to play this. I’ll be your wingman. If you’re going to leave one of my people to swing so you can complete the mission it will be me. And we’ll take Anderson and Stone as top cover.”

I had hoped McQueen would take the bait. This up coming mission was going to be crazy enough as is for an experienced pilot. I didn’t need a still wet behind the ears kid as my wingman trying to collapse those canyon walls while flying right down their center. “This way Colonel. I’ll introduce you and your people to the meanest piece of fly death and destruction to date.”

As we headed over to the next Claymore in line. I called out to Chief Daily. “Chief get the birds prepped for a ground attack. Minimum air-to-air. We’re going to need every bomb we can pack to get the job done.”

“I hear you LT. Just play nice with the jarheads and leave the loadouts to me and my crews.” He called out to me then turned around and started barking orders. “Johnson, Grady, Holmes, Stansfield. Get birds one through four prepped and ready to fly. I want six, Mark eight Hawks on the Witch and bird two. Give me a mix of nine Maverick ATA missiles, nine Sidewinder Rattlesnake ATA missiles, for the rest of the loadout. Full air-to-air of twelve Mavericks and twelve Sidewinder Rattlesnakes, on birds three and four. Full autocannon loadout of HE Slammer rounds for all of them. Pack them in tight people. Short chain the rounds.”

I just shook my head at the why Chief Daily began prepping the Claymores for the up coming mission. We didn’t have a lot of time to plan the operation. Yet he knew just by hearing my orders what to give me to get the job done. The man was a true genius when comes to aircraft and what they could do. I don’t know what I’ll ever do if he has to be replaced. Right now, though I had a class to give on the FB-11.

Over the next two hours I went over every inch of the FB-11’s with McQueen and his pilots. They were to say the least impressed with the fighter’s capabilities. I told them that the FB-11 could perform combat maneuvers at Mach 6.8 with a top speed of Mach 8.5 in level flight. When they heard this their mouths fell open in disbelief. Before I went over the weapons I could already tell that they were getting the itch. They wanted to be behind the controls so bad they could taste it.

Colonel McQueen asked what armament the FB-11 Claymore carried. I informed him that each Claymore carried a standard loadout of 9 Maverick ATA missiles, 9 Sidewinder Rattlesnake ATA missiles, and 6 Mark eight Hawk ATG missiles. I went on to point out the number PPC’s and PPL’s they were more than a little surprised. They were not expecting to be faced with 20 Pulse Plasma Lasers. With 10 in the nose and 5 in each winglet or the 8 PPCs with 4 in the nose and 2 in each winglet.

I saved the best for last the massive 120mm autocannon. I explained about the high rate of fire and the punch of the massive weapon. They all really like the autocannon. Then I gave them the bad news. When they heard they had to keep a sharp eye on the ammo count you could have heard pin down. They really didn’t like the fact that even with the short chain link system they only had 160 rounds of caseless ammo. I finally gave the shitty news. They really didn’t like the fact that they would have to rely on their bio-AIs to handle flight control. Nor did they like the fact that the onboard AI was so stupid. Most of them felt that it was better to have an AI that was powerful enough to handle the normal operations of the fighter. That was when I explain the reason behind the underpowered AI.

Most of the Marine pilots had no clue as to what Hyper Hysteria Savant Syndrome was. Let alone what it meant to have H.H.S.S. as a pilot. When I explained how H.H.S.S. enhanced reflexes, hand-eye coordination, the ability to multitask, track more than two or three targets at a time, in short everything H.H.S.S. gave them, they quit bitching about the on board underpowered AI. They were a little surprised when I explained that their Bio-AIs would have to handle the normal flight operations. Other than those few minor details to the last one, they all fell in love with the FB-11 Claymore. Only one of them wasn’t too happy with having to rely on their Bio-AI instead of a hard-mounted AI in the aircraft. Not that I gave a shit. They weren’t my wingman, and if the bitch got in my way I would just shoot her down. I just might do it anyway just for shits and grins.

After the hour-long class, I turned away and walked back to my own aircraft. “Chief Daily, the Witch ready to fly?”

“All set LT. You got a full loadout. Same rules apply as normal. Remember to stay light on the trigger for the AC. When you pop those Mark eights in the canyon make sure that that you drop them with a retarded fuse. You’ll want as much penetration into those rockfaces as you can get. After that hit the burners and get the frack out of there as fast as the Witch will carry you.”

“Got it Chief. By the way. What has you itchy about the Mark eights and using them in those canyons?” I really wanted to know what had Daily on edge about the canyons and those air-to-ground missiles.

“Look, LT, I know that you’re used to trusting the ordnance guys blindly, but the Mark eights have never been used in the manner that you are today. Those missiles are designed for targeting bunkers, tanks, APSs, IFVs, and artillery units. Shit that is above ground. Not underground crevices’, caves, and other none military targets like those rockfaces.” Chief Daily laid out the problem for me clear and simple, then went for the kill. “I just don’t know how they’ll react, LT.”

“Understood Chief. You do know that I pulled something like this before. Those Hawks will get the job done. I just have to make sure that I target the right spots in the canyons. Has the brass sent over the topical maps that I requested yet?”

“They got here about twenty minutes ago LT. What I want to know is why are you using maps? You have a state of the art GPS on board the Witch.”

“Yah, but the GPS doesn’t give me a picture of the rockfaces. If I’m going to make this strike work I need to know exactly where to put those Mark eights to do the most damage. Now where are the maps?” I explained to Daily.

He led me over to a table that he had set up at the back of my bunker. McQueen had overheard my talk with Chief Daily and joined us at the table. Between the three of us we went over the maps for both canyon passages. By the time we got done we found only three points between both canyons that could first close the passes and can be done with Mark eights. There were six others points but we would need heavy bombers to deliver the needed bombs. To hit those six points and make our plan work we would need T-nine Tallboys or Mark nine Thunder hawks. The real kick in the ass was that each target would require the full loadout of Mark eight Hawks for both of our Claymores to get the job done.

I turned to Colonel McQueen giving the man a sly smile. “Well, Colonel, ready to dance with the Devil in the pale blue dress?”

McQueen just chuckled. “I don’t doubt that you would look quiet fetching in a nice pale blue cocktail dress Lieutenant. However, I don’t think it would be fitting for combat. I suggest that we each fire three missiles at our two targets areas. This way we make sure of our hits.”

I thought about what McQueen was suggesting. It made sense and doubled our chances of success. “How good are Anderson and Stone at Nap of the Earth?”

“Considering they’re crop duster pilots in their civilian lives. Better than most. Not that it matters with my Marines. They’re all crop dust pilots in their civilian lives with the exceptions of me and Harts. What do you have in mind?” McQueen asked.

“Shit! A full squadron of crop duster pilots. I didn’t realize there were that many farms on New Texas to need more than ten pilots total.” I didn’t mean for it to sound condescending but that’s the way it came out.

McQueen and his pilots started to chuckle. “Lieutenant Cole, you really got to understand just how much of our planets economy revolves around agriculture. Less than ten percent of what we produce is mineral or manufacture based export. The rest is all agriculture in one form or the other. From field crops to feed animals. That means we have more acreage under plow than just about any other planet in the New Confederate System. To be blunt Lieutenant we’re a food factory for the Empire.”

“So, you need more crop duster pilots than would be normal for a planet. Just how many pilots out there are like those in your squadron?”

“Close to two thousand maybe more. Not really sure Lieutenant. There are about twenty-two-thousand small bush airports all over this planet. You can pretty much bet that there is a crop duster in residence. Most of those pilots know how to snake a canyon and do so for the fun of it. Usually taking pot shots at rogue bucks on the canyon walls. The ones down on the coast lines usually pop the tree lines and beaches going after tango whales and ghillie ells. In the plains area those crazies like to buzz the cattle herds during roundup times. So, running nap of the earth is pretty much a job requirement for the crop dusters on New Texas. That and being slightly crazy in the bargain.” McQueen told me and smiled.

“If that’s the case then we go with your suggestion.” I turned to the other two pilots. “Okay people let’s mount up and get airborne.”

Over the Northeastern passage.
I eased into a tight holding pattern as McQueen, Anderson, and Stone pulled up on my wing tip. McQueen and I had decided to make one run on each canyon pass targeting the same areas. I would go first. Then McQueen would make his run. While we were down in the passes Anderson and Stone would keep their eyes pealed for enemy fighters. I just prayed that neither McQueen or I got jumped while in the canyons. This mission was harrying enough as it was without unwelcome guests making the attack runs a shooting gallery.
“You know something Lilly. I really do wish that I had kept my mouth shut.”

“Oh please, Terresa. You and I both know that is a line of bullshit. You love this kind of mission. What was it you said the other day? WETSU or something like that?”

“Yah, WETSU is what I said. It means We Eat This Shit Up.” I took one more look at my air defense radar. “Any sign of unwelcome guests?”

“None. I know that you’re worried Terresa, but we’re here and time is running out.”

“I know that Lilly.” I took the time and plotted my attack run for the fifth time and sighed. “Well, no time like the present. Give me the ground attack radar, Lilly. Plot our target on the readout and mark it in red.”

While Lilly was taking care of my last few remaining preparations for the attack I contacted McQueen. “Banshee, this is Scorpion. Over”

“Banshee here Scorpion. Over”

“Starting my attack run now, Banshee. Over”

“Copy that Scorpion. Keep your head on a swivel. See you when you get back. Over”

“Copy that Banshee. Scorpion Out. Tally Oh!” I nosed over and dove for the hard deck. I knew that I would have to enter the passage from the mouth and run the length of the canyon until I reached the target. I just didn’t realize just how tight the canyon really was down near the road bed. I had about two-hundred feet to play with the whole length of the canyon, at most. As I approached my first target zone the canyon narrowed down to a little over one-hundred feet. Barely enough for the roadbed to pass through the canyon.

I waited until my targeting sight turned from green to red then fired the first of my Mark six Hawks into the eastern rockface. I push the throttles to the stops and shot pass the target area before the missile exploded. I keep the throttles wide open as I weaved my way through the canyon to the next two targeting points. Just before reaching them I dropped my speed enough to get a hard lock before firing. As I cleared the last target zone McQueen called out that he was starting his own attack run. I quickly climbed and rolled over to observe his attack. I knew that I was good but McQueen was on a whole another level. He flew into the canyon at top speed and never slowed down. The man placed each missile right where it needed to be placed. His attack run was a textbook example of how to snake a canyon.

By the end of his attack run the Northeastern passage was closed for the foreseeable future. The landslides had filled the roadbed with enough rock and earth in three spots that it will take the Corps of Engineers months to clear them. The only down part was the lack of enemy troops in the canyon passage. “Well maybe we’ll get luck with the Northwestern passage.”

“I hate to break it to you Terresa, but I doubt it. The nearest Amazon unit is more than three hours away.”

“Lilly, my love, there is an old saying, a very old saying.” I was already lining up to make my run on the Northwestern passage as that saying ran through my mind. “No matter what happens the enemy will always do the unexpected.”

Almost as to prove my point six blips suddenly appeared on my air defense radar. To underscore the sinking feeling in my gut Anderson called out over the radio. “Bandits twelve o’clock at three hundred knots and closing! Scorpion, Banshee make your runs now! Over”

I keyed my mike and pushed the throttles to the stops. “Copy that Rimshot. Good hunting and save a few for us. Over”

“We’ll try Scorpion, but don’t count on it. Rimshot out” with that Anderson dropped off the radio and headed for the enemy fighters. Leaving me and McQueen to make our bomb runs without top cover. Not that it mattered. They had their job which was to handle enemy fighters. We had ours which was to close the passes.

I dove for the deck and the mouth of canyon with McQueen hot on my tail. I could tell that he wasn’t going to wait this time, but follow in right behind me. “We’re only going to get one shot at this Banshee. If we don’t get clear in time it’s been an honor flying with you. Over”

“Same here, Scorpion. Keep your spacing and mark your targets. I’ll drop my Hawks right behind yours. Over”

“Copy that, Banshee. Tally ho!” With that I shot into the mouth of the canyon at just over Mach five-point-five. I wasn’t about to slow down. I just had to be luckier than I ever have been on this run. Unlike the Northeastern passage this one was only as wide as the roadbed from start to finish. The walls are sheer cliff faces of basalt granite with outcroppings the whole length at irregular intervals. In short this was one bombing run that would truly test my skills as a pilot.

I smiled for the first time during this mission as I rounded the first bend and lined up on my target. I could hear the scream of my engines echoing off the canyon walls. I could feel the crosswinds buffeting the main fuselage trying to force me into the canyon walls. I fight my way through natures defenses of the canyon until I have a hard lock on the first target. I wait until my crosshairs turn red and fire. I feel the Hawk drop away and speed towards the target even as I speed past banking hard to make the next turn. The faster I fly through the canyon the more the world seems to fall away. I become lost to the rush of fly between the hard-unforgiving walls of the canyon that are certain death and the freedom of the life-giving air around me. With ever more speed I race towards my next target not thinking about whether or not McQueen is still behind me.

I can no longer tell the deference between my sonic booms and the explosion of missiles in the confines of the narrow canyon. To tell the truth I don’t really care. I have become so lost to the excitement of racing death in this narrow corridor I do not care. I just want to push myself further and faster than ever before. This is where the pilots will be found this day. Not up in the clouds but down amongst the earthly confines of this narrow canyon passage. I spot my second target and fire even as my crosshairs turn red signaling a hard lock. I barely feel the Hawk drop away from my Claymore as I rush pass the targeted rockface. I pull hard on the stick and bank once more to make the next turn.

One more target rockface to go. I know that I can make it without slowing down. The rest of the canyon is a straight shot out onto the plans on the other side of the mountain rages that surround the northern half of the White Sands area. Once there all I have to do is climb for the skies and I’ll be home free. This thought depresses me slightly as I know that my job for the day will be done. I will have no more targets to engage. I put those thoughts out of my head. I see my last target rockface less than a half mile ahead. I wait for my crosshairs to turn red then drop my final Hawk and pull up out of the canyon.

“TERRESA! BANDIT AT SIX OCLOCK! WAKE UP GIRL! WE GOT COMPANY!” Lilly’s scream pulls me out of my dream of undeniable freedom. I looked hard to my rear. And there it is, my worst nightmare and greatest desire. The solid black KV-81 Sturmgewehr. The Black Witch in on my ass and she is out for blood.

“Oh shit! Lilly, is that who I think it is?”

“Well it sure as frack isn’t Santa Claus! Move girl or we’re both dead.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 20

North of the White Sands R-n-D Central Plain.

Mobile Command Center for the Amazon Third Army Group

Group Commander Richard White looked on in disbelief at the holographic display in the center of his mobile command center. A pair of fighters from the White Sands Airbase had just closed the Northeastern passageway. Even now they were performing the same type of attacks in the Northwestern passageway. It was disconcerting for the Group Commander, as he had two regiments of Armored Cavalry in that pass. If those fighters are able to complete their bombing runs those two regiments will be cutoff.

“Where the hell is our AIR SUPPORT?!” White screamed at his radio operator.

“They’re engaged with the enemy sir. They have been able to drive off two of those new fighters of the Empire. According to Flight Leader Calisto we’ll have control of the skies over the operational area in a few more seconds, sir.” The young private answered his enraged Commander.

“IN A FEW MORE SECONDS WE’LL LOSE OUR RECCON FORCE!” White had to calm himself down before he did something rash. “Get me Flight Leader Calisto on the radio now!”

“Black Witch flight here Command. Over” Emily’s voice was calm and collected. She knew that she was not in trouble.

“Black Witch flight you are to break off your current operations. Come to grind one-seven-seven and engage fighters in the Northwestern passageway. Over” White had to get Calisto to engage those two fighters. If not, then their plans for attack on the White Sands base would be worthless. They needed one of those two passes to be open. With them closed off it will take them ten to twelve days to march clear around to the only other avenue of attack. Even that would be at a forced march.

In the skies over the Amazon Third Army Group

“Understood Group Command. Breaking off now. Out.” Emily may be a glory hungry bitch, but she knew the importance of this attack. They had to take White Sands now. The reports coming in from the other systems were disturbing. A whole Death Dealer Battle Group along with all eighteen Combat Division had just vanished. Those types of units just don’t vanish. They either sit in one area of operation or they attack.

Seeing as how the only current combat operations within the Empire were on New Texas. Emily Calisto knew exactly where that Death Dealer Battle Group was headed. She and every Amazon warrior on New Texas were those deadly warriors’ newest targets. Unless they could drive the Death Dealers out of the White Sands Airbase they were done for. Even with twenty-eight combat division, plus the fourteen mercenary regiments, on planet, it wouldn’t be enough. Emily knew this for fact.

Unlike her superiors Emily had studied alongside men and women who went on to become Death Dealers. She knew intimately the type of person it took to win the Empyreal Blacks of a Death Dealer. At one time she had dreamed of win those coveted uniforms in her most secret of heart’s desires. She may be a clone, with programed loyalty to the Collective, but she still had her dreams.

Keying her mike for her wingman. “Harlequin, Warthog, Razorback, break off operations and fall in on my tail. We got a priority target. Two fighters at one-seven-seven in the Northwestern passageway. How copy? Over”

“Good copy, Witch. What we hunting? Over” her wingman replied.

“Don’t know Harlequin. All I know is we got to break up an attack run on that pass. Now let’s get over there and get the job done. Over”

“Right behind you Witch. Out”

“Moon dog, Warlock, Jackal, and Wizard. Break off and handle any escort fighters the ground attacker may have. Out” Emily knew that the other four members of her squadron would follow her orders without question. For now, she just needed to get her wingman and herself into position.

The two heavy fighters in their iconic paint schemes screamed away from the aerial battle in the hopes of stopping the ground attack. If they are in time, then the overall attack would be saved. If they were late they could at least get revenge on the two fighters for destroying all the Amazon High Commands hard work and planning. The fact that Emily had to let the two twin-tail devils go was not an easy thing. Yet, she knew that neither of the pilots was the Claymore. That is who she wanted. Not some second-string crop duster. No, Emily wanted to face the only pilot that was truly worthy of her time and skill.

Even on her base the Claymore pilot was gaining a name. One that was almost whispered with the same reverence as her own. The Silver-eyed-Witch. Emily Calisto wanted to put an end to the rumors that this Claymore was the perfection of pilots. Emily knew the name of the Claymore Pilot and it tasted like ash in her mouth. In her mind Terresa Cole was the true enemy. She represented everything wrong within the Empire. How something so fundamentally flawed as the Claymores could be allowed to live baffled her. Did not the scientists of the Empire see how dangerous and uncontrollable such a thing like the Claymores were. To Emily and the Amazons, any genetic defect such as the Claymores needed to be eliminated.

As she and her wingman neared the Northwestern passageway they could tell they were already too late. The explosions rising from the canyon walls let them know that the passage was or soon would be, impassable. Swinging wide so they could evaluate the damage to the pass Emily led her wingman in a high altitude run the length of the pass. With each explosion for a total of six explosions the walls of the canyon were collapsing inward. She knew that there was no way for the Army Group to use this passage. She could not believe the speed of the two fighters that were rocketing down the length of the canyon. The pilots of these fighters had to be cyborgs. There was no way for humans to react to or handle the g-forces generated by the maneuvers to snake their way down that canyon.

Surely these pilots would not make a mistake. They were just too good. Emily could tell that by the way the leading pilot flew through the canyon that they had to be Terresa Cole. “Finally. You have come out to face me, whore. This time you will not get away from me. You will die today Terresa Cole.”

Emily keyed her mike opening a connection to the rest of the fighters with her. “Warthog, Razorback, you got the second fighter still in the canyon. Harlequin, you’re with me. We got the lead fighter. Once they clear the canyon we take them both. How copy? Over”

Emily didn’t bother with wait for their answers. She knew that her wingman, and the other pilots would follow her orders. Nosing over Emily lined up on the led fighter as it exited the canyon. Applying power to her engines Emily pushed her Marybelle to the very edge of its performance envelope. Keying her mike one last time Emily called out to the other pilots. “Glory or Death.”

The skies over White Sands.

I feel the pounding of autocannon shells impacting down the port engine nacelle. I bank hard to starboard and wing-over popping the flaps. The Black Witch flies passed me not expecting my sudden drop in airspeed. By all rights no one in their right mind tries to stall out in combat but I just did. It may have been reckless, but it saved my ass. I poured the power to my engines and pulled back on the stick trying to swing in behind the Black Witch and her wingman. I just had to get her wingman out of the way first. I flipped the arming switch on the autocannon and squeezed the trigger. I didn’t bother with burst fire. I just pulled the trigger and poured the rounds into the fracker’s ass. I just kept an eye on the round count.

It went from 160 to 147 in just over ten seconds. The vibration from the recoil was enough to rattle my teeth. Thirteen rounds gone in the blink of an eye. It was worth it though. The red, gold, and black checkered painted KV-81 lost more than just paint. I watched as a few armor plates fall away. It’s not much but at this range I can get another burst in. I would love to be able to use my PPLs or PPCs but I’m just too close for them to be effective. The same goes for my missiles. I’m too close for a target lock. I’m in a million-credit aircraft with the ability to engage targets out to 20 miles, and I have been reduced to the oldest method of aerial combat. The dog fight using guns.

I squeeze the trigger on the autocannon for a second time putting eight more rounds into the enemy KV-81. This time I get a better result as the portside engine flares then starts to smoke. This one is done for. One more burst from my AC and he is dead. The pilot must know this as he pulls hard over and out of line with my next shot. I pull back on the stick to follow but have to change direction hard at the last second. The Black Witch is on my ass again.

If my missile lock warning hadn’t sounded the bitch would have put one right up my exhaust. “Where the hell is McQueen?”

“He’s a little busy dealing with two KV-81s of his own, Terresa.”

“Well, shit! Look’s like we have finally out run our luck, Lilly.” I bank hard left and roll into a split Ingram loop trying to shake the Black Witch. I may have run out of luck but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to give up. “Get the escape pod ready incase we need it girl.”

“Remember bailing out is not my scene Terresa. Keep rolling the dice baby.”

I have to laugh at Lilly’s smartassed reply. She may be one of the powerful bio-AI in the known universe, but she could always find something to make me smile in the most trying of circumstances. Even as I pull out of the loop I feel my smile return. Gone is the panic that had gripped me at the start of the dogfight. I was still alive that meant I could still fly. If I was still flying, I could still fight. If I could still fight that meant I could still win. If I could still win that meant the Black Witch was a dead bitch.

My half loop brought the red, gold, and black checkered KV-81 back into my gunsights. As my crosshairs turn from green to red I pull hard on the trigger for the autocannon for a third time. Again, I watch as my round count drops like an elevator in freefall. When I finally letup on the trigger I have dumped another twelve rounds into the KV-81. This time I got a much better result out of the exchange. After thirty-three rounds the KV-81 blew its engine completely. That son-of-a-bitch nosed dived towards the ground. I bank left then pull hard right.

I know better than to fly in a straight line during combat for too long. That is a sure fired way to get dead. For once, I’m glad as all hell that I follow that rule. I had no sooner changed my flight path than eight PPC’s, twelve PLL’s, and a one-oh-five autocannon tear through the space that I would have occupied if I had not changed course. As I pulled hard on the stick I was greeted by the sight of the Black Witch coming into line with me for a head on attack.

“Oh shit! Lilly please tell me that crazy bitch isn’t going to play chicken with us.” I know that is exactly what Calisto is going to do, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. Head to head at close to Mach six leaves no room for mistakes.

“I won’t lie Terresa. But unless you do something fast that bitch is going to be past us and into our rear.”

“Not if I can help it Lilly.” I got a solid target lock on the Black Witch and pulled the triggers for my PPCs, PLLs, and autocannon. If I was going down I was taking that bitch with me. My mind flashes back to just over a month ago. Once again, I’m going head-to-head with a real killer of the skies. Only this time we’re doing it we’re on equal footing. In her favor the KV-81 has better armor, and slightly better handling than my FB-11. In my favor, the FB-11 is faster, and has more firepower, over all. The heavy thump of the autocannon firing is barely drowned out by the thunder of the PPCs. While the flash of my PPLs ripples across the skies.

I know that I hit the KV-81. I can see the damage form my weapons as we rocket pass each other. I check my damage monitor and find over half of my armor has been reduced to an almost paper like thinness. The exchange between us is comparable. What is most damaging for me is the loss of the portside PPLs and PPCs. I have lost a full one quarter of my main weapons. I pull back hard on the stick going into a loop hoping to come around on the Black Witch’s tail.

As I come out of the loop I scan for the bitch only find that she is gone. “LILLY! WHERE DID THAT BITCH GO?!”

“She broke off the engagement as soon she cleared us. Terresa, we have a bigger problem right now. I count eight new inbound fighters. They’re fresh, fully armed, and have us outnumbered four to one.”

I key my mike. “Banshee, you still with me? Over”

“Still here and still flying, Scorpion. What is your condition? Over” I sighed in as I hear McQueen’s voice.

“Not good Banshee. I lost over a half my armor and a quarter of my weapons in that fight with the Black Witch. What happened to Rimshot and Pony girl? Over”

“They shot down five of the KV-81s and ten of those F-86s before having to bug out. Which I believe we need to do now. Over”

Damn. If they took out fifteen enemy aircraft before being forced to breakoff, then we were in deeper shit than I realized. “Copy that Banshee. Heading for Homeplate now. You coming? Over”

“Right behind you Scorpion. Besides, I don’t want to face off with eight fresh fighters in the shape we’re in. Over”

“Copy that Banshee. I just wish that the Black Witch had stuck around to finish our fight. That bitch owes me a fighter. Over” My anger over Emily Calisto bailing on our fight stung like an uncontrolled wildfire in my belly.

“I hope you get your revenge Scorpion. But now is not the time. The division needs these fighters and us. Now, head for Homeplate. Out”

I wanted to turn and look for Calisto, but McQueen was right. Besides we had those eight F-86 Saber jets climbing up our asses. I had a feeling that we would have to deal with them first before we crossed back over into friendly lines. I also notice that for some reason my starboard engine is running in the red.

“Lilly, what’s going on with engine two? Why is it running in the red?”

“We took a few heavy hits to engine number two Terresa. I’ve been trying to regulate the revs but for some reason I can’t. I think that the throttle controls for that engine are damaged. At the current pace that engine will need to be shut down.”

I thought about what Lilly was telling me. I double check the damage monitor for my fighter one more time. The more I see the madder I get at myself. I had thought that I had only sustained armor damage, but I was wrong. In my fight with the Black Witch and her wingman, I had sustained damage to the starboard engine, targeting radar for the Maverick missiles, and three of the lunch rails for the Rattlesnake missiles. In short, I had eighteen missiles that were useless in a fight.

“I should never have gone head-to-head with that bitch.” I knew that I couldn’t land with that much ordnance onboard. “Lilly use the overrides and drop the missiles. They no good to us now and they’ll only be a hinderance to landing.”

I had no sooner finished giving her the order to dump the useless missiles than I heard the sounds of the emergency releases opening. I watched as all eighteen fell away from my Claymore one at a time. “We’re clear of all external ordnance Terresa. Should I dump the autocannon rounds as well?”

“No Lilly. We’ll keep those. We might need them yet to make it home. Go ahead and shut down the number two engine. Before it blows and takes the rest of the fighter with it. Personally, I don’t feel like walking the rest of the way home.”

I watch the engine monitors as the starboard engine shuts down. With only one engine it’s going to be a real bitch to land. I know the Claymore is designed to fly with just the one engine and land on just one engine, but I hadn’t tested that option yet. Something about landing with only half power didn’t sit well with me.

As I pass over the outer marker I contact the ATC. “Whiskey Sahara this is Scorpion on approach. Over”

“Scorpion, this Whiskey Sahara, come right to runway two and descend to one-thousand feet and hold. Over”

“Negative Whiskey Sahara, I need immediate clearance to land. Over” I knew that White Sands didn’t know the current condition of my aircraft. I was ready to force their hand by declaring an emergency landing, yet.

“Scorpion are you declaring an emergency landing? Over”

There it was, they wanted to know just how bad my aircraft was. “Whiskey Sahara, I have lost my starboard engine and flying on half power. I repeat I need immediate clearance for landing on runway one. Over”

It took them a few seconds before they answered me. “You’re cleared for runway one, Scorpion. Fire and Rescue has been notified and are on standby. Over”

“Okay Lilly here we go. Let’s just hope like hell we don’t need Fire and Rescue.” I eased my nose over and lined up on the number one runway.

“Well, look at it this way, Terresa. If we do crash at least we’ll be close to some of the best medical attention in the service.”

It took me a few seconds to understand what Lilly meant. When I did I just laughed. She was right after all. I crash now, mom and Sylvia will be there to put me back together. If I live that is. I get my head back in the game as I cross over the last outer marker at little than a hundred feet. I drop my landing gear and pray for three in the green on my landing gear indicator lights. When one of the indicator lights flashes yellow instead of green letting me know that the starboard gear is down but not locked I want to shit my pants. All I can do is hope and pray that the starboard landing gear holds long enough for me to bleed off my speed at landing. If not, I will be crashing for sure. I feel my wing gear with the very unstable starboard landing gear touch the runway first. I quickly push the nose over and bring down the nose gear. I dump my flaps and kick over the buckets while pulling the release on my emergency drag chute. I watch as my speed drops to almost nothing in under four-hundred feet. I no sooner get the bird stopped than the Starboard landing gear gives way and dumps that wing and engine on the ground.

I pop the emergency release on my canopy. “Time to bail the frack out Lilly.” I don’t bother with removing my helmet and just drop over the side after releasing my harness. Once on the ground I haul ass to get as far from my stricken fighter as I can. I just know that this time she is going to blow. I get about fifty feet away when the fire trucks pass me already spraying my fighter down with foam from the turret mounted spray cannon. I can tell though that they are too late. The flames from my damaged starboard engine are blazing out the intake and exhaust.

“Shit. Look’s like I’ve lost another fighter to that bitch.” I grumbled.

“Better the fighter than your life Terresa. Don’t worry though, this time it was an even exchange. She may have caused the death of our Claymore, but we put an end to her KV-81 in return. I was able to collect the damage scans before we bailed out. There was more than one reason for her running from the fight. Trust me on this Terresa, that all black Sturmgewehr is not landing in one piece.”

“So, instead of us being down by two to that bitch she still owes for one fighter. That puts our fights at one lost, and one tie.” My self-absorbed bitch fest was interrupted by the explosion of the autocannon rounds still on board the Witch. I ducked as a few pieces of shrapnel flew over my head. “Yup, there she goes. Oh well I knew that my luck couldn’t hold out forever. I just wonder how long it will take the factory to produce me a new Claymore.”

“Terresa, I’ve run a scan of the current inventory of fighters here on base. There is an already completed FB-11A2 waiting to roll off the factory floor. I think that Chief Daily has been tinkering again. Because this new Claymore appears to be even deadlier than the original FB-11A1.”

“WHAT THE HELL?! Are you telling me that Chief Daily has been holding back on me?” I was pissed. For the past six days I have been pushing my old fighter to its limits. Dealing with having to rebuild it fight after fight and there has been a perfectly brand-new fighter sitting in the hangers waiting for me.

“I have not been holding out on you LT. I just haven’t gotten all the bugs worked out on your new fighter yet.” Chief Daily’s voice made me jump. As I spun around to face him I found him smiling at me. “But it looks like you’re going to need her sooner rather than later. I’ll have my crew roll her out for you within the hour.”

“Damn it, Chief! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I took a deep breath and looked back to where my old fighter sat burning. “Sorry about not bring her home in one-piece Chief. I know that you loved that bird like a second child.”

“Don’t worry about it LT. I saw you coming in on just one engine working and the other smoking like it was about to blow. You did right by her. You kept her flying in worse conditions and brought her home every time. This time your luck just ran out. Nothing more than that. Not your fault. Did you at least take down the bitch that did that to my baby?” Chief Daily just stood there in his usual unflappable manner. As if the fact that I lost his prized fighter was no big deal.

“Let’s just say that she won’t be flying her precious all black KV-81 anytime soon.” I gave Chief Daily my biggest smile. “If she can land without one engine and half of her landing gear then she is not human. I figure she’ll have to bail out somewhere over their lines and walk the rest of the way home. Because according to what my AI was able to salvage from the tactical data before the Witch went up. I did more damage to her bird than she did to mine. I just had to deal with the combined damage of taking on two KV-81s at the same time.”

“Damn. Two on one odds are not good. How bad do you think it will get LT?”

“If we don’t get relief soon Chief. We’ll be looking at six to one dogfights. With guns only. The River Sluts have figured out our weakness.” I was honest with Daily.

“What weakness? I designed that bird to be a pure killer. It doesn’t have any weakness. If there is one I would know about it.” Chief Daily snapped defensively. He every right to be upset over what I just said. After all he helped design the FB-11.

“We suck at close quarters combat, Chief. If they stay in tight, under a thousand meters. We cannot use our missiles. Under five-hundred meters, and the PPCs and PPLs are useless as they cannot get a solid lock. The only weapon we have that works that close in is our autocannon. In short if they get into knife fighting range they own our asses. That is how they got me.” As I broke the fight down for Chief Daily I could see his mind working to solve the problems.

“I don’t know if I can fix the problems before you have to go up again LT. But you can bet your ass I’ll have an answer and fix by this time two days from now.” With that Chief Daily turned and walked away. Leaving me to mourn the loss of the Witch.

Super Carrier Lady Dai Etsu, Outer edge of New Confederate System

Admiral Danial Cosby stood looking into the holographic tank. At one time there would have been eighteen ships represented by the tiny icons. Now, he barely had more than a third of his battlefleet left. The only good news was the Medical Dropship Bifrost had jumped out two days ago before the Amazons started their push to take the jump gate. If it had not been for the Corsairs of her fleet the Amazons would have taken the jump gate by now.

“Admiral, we cannot hold out for much longer. Please, reconsider and take the fleet through the gate. We can come back with the relief fleet.” Cosby looked up at his XO and just sighed. This was the third time in as many days that they have had this discussion. With the loss of the battleships Colorado and Montana holding the jump point and its gate was now an act of final defiance.

One that Cosby was willing to make. For no other reason than he was going to be only the second Admiral in history to abandon a Death Dealer unit to die. The reports coming out of New Texas had become the only good news in his day. According to his Com-techs the 101st were playing ten kinds of merry hell with the Amazons by using gorilla tactics. The reports of the local militia being commanded by Death Dealers were reporting the biggest impacts on the Amazon forces. It was those reports that kept Cosby where he was with his fleet.

“Number One, we’ve had this discussion already. We stay unlit the relief force arrives. We will not abandon this gate until then. Not one minute before understand?” the fact that Cosby wasn’t snapping the head off his XO just showed how tired the man was. Danial Cosby had been living off of coffee, cigarettes, and four hours of sleep for the past seven days. He also knew that if the relief force didn’t arrive soon he would have a mutiny on his hands.

His XO’s next words just confirmed this fact. “Sir, I will stand by your decision, but the captains of the other ships may not. We no longer have the ability to perform offensive operations. We barely have defensive capabilities. More than a few will be voicing the need to retreat at this morning’s fleet conference, sir.”

There is was. The none to subtle threat of fleet wide mutiny by his commanding officers. Not that Cosby blamed them. One more solid push by the Amazon fleet and they were done. With no fighters, or torpedo/bombers, his Carrier was nothing more than a moving command post. Without battleships his two destroyers and one frigate would be hopelessly out gunned by the much larger ships of the Amazons. Even the deadly little Corsairs would be overwhelmed in a matter of minutes.

All these thoughts though were quickly pushed aside as a Yeoman stepped over to him. “Sir, we have incoming on the long-range scanners. A fleet of Amazon warships are on approach. Scans indicate two Super Carriers, four Heavy Battleships, Four Fast Attack Battleships, sixteen Destroyers, sixteen Frigates, and thirty-two Corsairs, with at least six squadrons of fighters, and six squadrons of torpedo/bombers. Estimated arrival time, twenty-one minutes for the fighters, and thirty-nine for the rest of the fleet, sir.”

There it was. The Amazons had decided to put an end to his standoff. And with it his beleaguered fleet. “Sound battle stations, Number One. Helm, bring us about, heading one-eight-zero. Take us right down their bloody throats. Guns plot a firing solution for those Carriers. Cee-Cee pass the word to all remaining ships. Prepare for jump. We’ll buy them the time to get out safely.”

A round of ‘aye, aye, sir’ erupted from his command on control staff. He knew that what he was about to do was nothing more than a suicide mission. Yet, he had to do something to buy the remainder of his fleet time to escape. Also knew that he was sentencing the 101st to death. He had held the jump point and the gate for as long as he could. Now, there was nothing more to do than to go down in a blaze of glory taking as many of the enemy with him as he could.

“Number One prepare to sound abandon ship on my order. Engineering, stand by to overload the engines for self-destruct.” Cosby let a smile cross his face at the stunned looks his command staff were giving him. “That’s right people. We’re going to blow the Lady Dai Etsu to the hereafter deep in the heart of that enemy fleet. When the order is given I want you all off this ship. It has been an honor and a privilege to serve with you all. Carry out you orders.”

With that Cosby stood up and left the command center. As he walked the corridors of his carrier Cosby couldn’t help but be proud of his crew as they rushed to man their individual battle stations. There was no wasted movements or steps, but each person performed their assigned tasks as if in a training video. These were some of the best Personnel in the Empiral Navy. Cosby wasted no time in reaching his private quarters. Once there he went straight to his desk. Where he opened the bottom draw and pulled out a bottle of saké he had been holding onto since the day his Carrier was first commissioned. It had been a gift from the Grand Lady herself to him on that most rememberable day.

He laughed at her when she said that the saké should only be drunk on the last of the day in the last battle of the ship named for her. He even remembered how he had boosted that nothing short of him dying at the helm would bring about that day. She just gave him an idiosyncratic smile. Then started to give him a class on how to prepare saké the right way for drinking. Within the Empire most people did not know that top quality saké should be served at room temperature, to keep the flavors and aromas from mixing. Setting out the six ceramic choko that had come with the saké Cosby poured to the line marking 180ml inside of each cup. He knew that his command staff would be joining him shortly. His orders had basically ensured that.

Cosby looked around his stateroom. These small quarters had been his home for the last ten years. Unlike most of his fellow General Staff Officers, Cosby had never married. The Navy had been his life. He remembered one time when he was asked by Empress Maiha why he never married and his answer. ‘Your Majesty, if the Navy wanted me to have a wife and family they would have issued me one.’ Not that Cosby had ever felt the need for a wife and family. The Navy was his family. The knock on his stateroom door brought him back from those melancholy thoughts.

“Come.” Was all Cosby called out as the door was opened by his XO and the rest of his command staff. “Ladies and gentlemen, I take it that you’re here to talk me out of my course of action?”

“No sir. We’re here to ensure that you don’t go quietly into the night on your own.” The XO looked over at Cosby’s desk where the six choko cups sat each holding a measure of saké. “If you don’t mind sir. We’ll be joining you on Lady Dai Etsu’s last grand adventure.”

“I’ll be honored, Number One.” Picking up the cups Cosby passed them out. Holding up the last cup Cosby smiled. “But first, a toast. To the Grand Lady our ship is named for. Long may she guide our Empress. To the Grand Lady Dai Etsu! Kampai!”

As one the gathered officers emptied their cups. As soon as the cups had been returned to his desk Cosby refilled them. This time it was the XO who made the toast. “To the One-oh-first. Let them spit in the eye of Death! Kampai!”

Again, the cups were drained and refilled. The bottle of saké was rapidly being emptied. There was enough for just one more toast after this one being given by the Weapons Officer. “Long may the Lady Dai Etsu be remembered. She has been a beautiful lady of warfare. Kampai!”

As the last of the saké was poured Cosby held up his hand. “The last toast is mine, ladies and gentlemen. HONOR and GLORY! KAMPAI!”

Those three simple words meant more that all the flowering words of praise that Cosby could give his Command Staff. They all knew that today was their last day. And they would face their deaths with pride and dignity. That no matter what happened this day the Command Staff of the Super Carrier Lady Dai Etsu, the first of her class, would go down fighting.

As the last of the saké was drained each member of the Command Staff broke their cups on the floor, then crushed them under their boots. Cosby gave his Command Staff a hard look. “Let’s get to our posts people. Time to make the River Sluts pay for daring to challenge us.”

As one the Command Staff snapped to attention and saluted. As they filed out of Cosby’s stateroom it was a somber yet determined group of officers that stepped out to face their collective fates. Cosby led the way to the bridge instead of the Combat and Control center. It would be from there that he would give the final orders for the Super Carrier Lady Dai Etsu. As he took his seat in his Command Chair, Cosby looked out the forward view screen.

“What is the distance to the enemy fleet, Helm?”

“Forty AUs and closing sir. Approximately fifteen minutes to their fighters. Twenty for their main fleet, sir.” The Helmsman called out.

“Full power to the engines, Engineering. Melt down the bearings, Chief.” Cosby called out.

“I’m given her all we got Admiral. She ain’t got no more.” The Chief Engineer called back at Cosby with the time-honored manner of insolence that come with the job.

Cosby squared his shoulders and prepared to give the order to abandon ship. “ADMIRAL! WE GOT JUMP SIGNATURES POPPING UP ALL AROUND US SIR! AND ONE OF THEM IS MASSIVELY BIG! BIGGER THAN A SUPER CARRIER!”

Cosby looked over at the Yeoman who was screaming. Then looked out the portside viewport. No sooner had the first blaze of light marking the arrival of a dropship from hyper-space then one of the biggest flares Cosby had ever seen appeared. Through the rip in space and time appeared the bow of a monster straight out of hell. At one time there were only four of these monsters, now there was over thirty. To see one coming though a jump point was terrifying even to friendly ships.

Like a nightmare shark from ancient earth, the unbelievable mass of the Shinigami Battle Platform Katsumi slowly appeared in the New Confederate System. Even as it appeared the Amazon fleet started to turn. The old saying of it takes a Shinigami to kill a Shinigami was true. Not even the massive Battle Platforms of the Gorgonzola Fleet could stand up to the Shinigami class Battle Platform. And just like those ancient killers of the seas the Katsumi attacked the Amazon fleet with a vengeance. The massive guns spoke for the first time in anger since her commissioning.

With the flash of twenty-four, eighteen-inch Naval PPCs main guns, the Katsumi announced her presence on the battlefield. In the blink of an eye the Super Carrier Anaconda died. She was not alone in destroying the enemy fleet. Her eight escort Battleships, Arizona, California, Maryland, Nevada, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, and West Virginia descended on the enemy fleet like avenging angels. Even the fast attack Destroyers and Frigates of her Battle Group were racking up the kills. The massive Death Dealer Battle Group were exacting their revenge for their fallen bothers and sisters of Cosby’s small battlefleet.

“Admiral if you don’t mind I think I’ll back down on my engines now.” Cosby looked over at his Chief Engineer and chuckled. “I doubt that the Twenty-second need us.”

“You know something Chief. I do believe you’re right. Helm come about and get us clear of the big boys. I don’t want to get between them and their meat.” Cosby ordered. “Number One pass my compliments onto the men and women of the Twenty-second please. While you’re at it invite the Lady Saris to have a drink.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral.” The XO called out as he headed for the Communication Center.

Command deck of the Shinigami Battle Platform Katsumi.

Lady Saris Victoria stood stalk still behind her Command Chair. Unlike most Death Dealers, Saris was forced to use glasses with light dampening lenses. Her home planet of Wallachia was not like the other M-3 class planets in the Empire. The small planet revolved around a blue dwarf star. It was also one of the very first planets colonized by the human race. Due to the low light of the dwarf over the past centuries the citizens of Wallachia had developed low light vision. They had also developed a much stronger bodies. It was easy to tell some one from Wallachia. All you had to see, was their blood red eyes, elongated canine teeth, and pail white skin. More than a few citizens of the Empire had called them vampires.

Saris often used her unusual appearance to her advantage. She loved smiling at politicians while showing off her ‘fangs’ with their ruby red tips. Tips that she had installed at her own cost. The fact that her ‘fangs’ were framed by a pair of blood red lips, just added to the overall effect. An effect that she used to intimidate those who faced her combat. To Saris and the people of Wallachia everyday life was nothing but combat. She turned to face the Communication Officer as he waved for her attention. “What do you have Comms?”

“Message from Admiral Cosby, ma’am.”

“Go ahead and read it, Comms.”

“From the Super Carrier Lady Dai Etsu to the Battle Platform Katsumi. Stop. Have fun playing with your new friends. Stop. When you’re done please join us for celebratory drinks. Stop. We’re buying. Stop. Signed Admiral Danial Cosby. Tenth Battlefleet. End of message.” The yeoman wanted to bust out laughing. The truth was that every member of the bridge crew wanted to start laughing at the message from the Lady Dai Etsu. For Saris it was just an invite for drinks. Nothing special.

Then again, over the last thirty years, Saris had risen through the ranks solely on merit alone. She had no family rank or connects to use in her favor. To receive such an invitation was one that she couldn’t pass up. “Comms, please send the following reply. To the Carrier Lady Dai Etsu, from the Battle Platform Katsumi. Stop. We’ll be there in our Dress Blacks with bells on. Stop. Break out the good saké Admiral Cosby. Stop. Signed Lady Saris Victoria.”

The eighteen flashes off the stern let Saris know that her Ogre Class dropships had arrive. With them the eighteen combat divisions of her battlegroup. Even as her ships-of-line finished moping up the enemy fleet those massive assault dropships began racing towards the planet of New Texas. “Looks like we might be in time to relieve the one-oh-first, Carol.”

Carol Billings looked over at her and smiled. “You know something Lady Saris, you have a gift for the understated.”

“If you think I’m bad you need to spend some time around the royal family. The Grand Lady Dai Etsu makes me look like a rank amateur.” Looking out the view screens at the eighteen disappearing engine plumes of the Ogres. “Let’s finish up here ladies and gentlemen. I have a feeling that our brothers and sisters in those Ogres are going to need our guns sooner than they expect.”

Looking over at the display for her Carriers Saris noticed that they had yet to deploy their fighters or bombers. “Carol, pass the order for the Carriers Queen Elisabeth and Prince of Whales to head for New Texas. Have the Invincible, Illustrious, and Ark Royal hold position until further notice.”

“Yes ma’am. Do you think the combat divisions are going to need the air support that soon?” Carol asked with more than a little concern.

Saris gave her a soft look before answering. “I hope not but there is no such thing as overkill. Only open fire and pass the ammo.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 21
Royal Palace, New Capital City, Earth Prime.
Maiha Nakatoma walked through the hallways of the Royal Residence on Earth Prime with a heavy heart. She hated this place. To her the Royal Palace on Earth Prime was a waste of credits. Yet she understood the need for the Palace as a symbol. Ryuk maybe the true seat of power, but the Palace would always be the symbol of that power for the citizens of the Empire.

She and Alice were not here on Earth Prime by choice. They were here with a mission. A mission to root out the cancer that had crept in and was slowly killing the Empire from within. It had taken the Empire’s Secret Intelligence Police Force to weed out the clones in both the Hall of Lords and Parliament. The sickening part was the number of planetary Representatives and Lords that were compromised. It had taken all of Maiha hard learned patience to keep from killing them all outright. As much as she wanted to do exactly that she had to wait until this afternoon’s State of the Empire Address before she enacted her plan.

Maiha stopped and looked out one of the many windows in the southern wall of the hallway. Unlike the hallways on the northern side of the palace the southern hallways look down into the private courtyard of the palace. In the center of the courtyard was a large fifty-by-fifty sandlot. The Corpse of Engineers had put that in for her, Alice, and their family to use as a practice area. Maiha, and Alice spent a good deal of time on the sandlot going through their morning katas. Even though it was supposed to be there for her use, Maiha let the palace guards use it for their morning and afternoon PT. Even now, the on coming guards were going through their PT before reporting for duty. Maiha smiled knowing that three times a day the sandlot saw use for more than just decoration.

“Wishing that you were down there with them, love?” Alice’s voice brought a smile to Maiha’s face. Her wife of thirty years knew her so well.

“You know that I do, love.” Maiha sighed before turning to hug Alice. “There are times I wish that I could just put James on the Throne and disappear into the frontier or go home to become a simple teacher again.”

“You and me both dear. Why in the name of all that is holy and unholy did you ever let Daniela talk you into staying on the throne?” Alice double checked that they were alone before talking about one of the greatest secrets in the Empire.

“I didn’t let her talk me into staying on the throne. She flat-out refused to return to the throne. In her words ‘The Dan family is dead. Let them rest in peace.’ I doubt that even mother could have talked her into returning to the throne. That woman had a real hard-on hate for ruling.”

“Have you decided on how you plan to flush the traitors out of hiding yet?” Alice practically spit out the words in her anger. When she found out that more than a full third of the Parliament and a quarter of the Hall of Lords were now clones, Alice spent the day blowing targets apart on the range. Not even Dai Etsu had been able to calm her down after they reviewed the report. Not that Maiha had been much better. The Range Master had to request all new target stands and hard targets after the royal couple left the range that day.

“All is in readiness Alice. When I give the signal the Palace Guards will arrest the traitors where they stand. If the traitors resist the Guards have order to kill them where they stand. They will not be given the chance to escape their fates.” There was something in Maiha’s voice that had Alice worried.

“What has you on edge, Maiha? We’ve faced worse situations on the battlefield. I’ve never seen you this unsettled before.”

“It is the report that Captain Eastlee presented this morning. We still have at least another possible eight unknown enemies in the Senate and six within the Congress of Parliament. The only good news in that report is the confirmation of the number of clones in the Hall of Lords. It still unsettles me that the Amazons were able to clone and replace so many of our Legislative Branch of Government. We still haven’t figured out how the Amazons were able to make the switches. Until that mystery is solved none of us are safe.” Maiha let her real worry show.

“Have faith in the Hand of the Empire, dear. Of all our counter intelligence operatives they are the best. They will get to the bottom of the mystery.” Alice said trying to ease Maiha’s worry. “They have never failed us in the past.”

The fact that Alice was even hinting at turning loose the most secretive of organizations at her command let Maiha know just how pissed off her wife was. In the twenty years since their formation the Hand of the Empire had only been used nine times to solve a problem. Each time the heads of the trouble makers were delivered to the throne room. Always without a clue as to who put them there. Maiha and Alice had no clues to the identities of the mysterious operators. All they knew was that the loyalty of the members was unquestionable, and they operated totally in the dark of the Government, including the War Princess and Empress.

“I know that Alice. I just wish that they weren’t needed. As much as I dream of a time when I can just turn over the running of the Empire to the Parliament and the Prime Minister I doubt that will ever happen. The more I try to move us away from a total monarchy to a constitutional monarchy the greedier the High Families become. The Amazons are just the newest pain in my ass.” Maiha gripped.

The sound of running feet drew Maiha and Alice’s attention towards the far end of the hallway. A young Death Dealer just barely out of Basic Training and AIT came charging toward them both. “Your Majesty! Urgent news from the New Texas battle!”

As the Private came to a stop Maiha held out her hand to take the message from him. Maiha took the next few minutes to read the report before handing it over to Alice. “Private report to First High Lady Starr. You are to inform her that she is to release the eighth, ninth, tenth, fifteenth, twentieth, and twenty-five Death Dealer Battlegroups. Their target is the Amazon home system. Tell Lady Starr that the Battlegroups are cleared for Total War. No restrictions. Understood?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” With that the young man turned and ran as fast as the confines of the palace hallways would allow. Maiha knew that the young man was pushing the limits of his Death Dealer upgrades.

“Damn, Maiha. If this report is only halfway true, then I doubt that six battlegroups are going to be enough.” Alice had just finished reading the report as the Private turned to carry out his orders.

“Those six will be more than enough Alice. As it stands right now, a rather large portion of the Amazon military might is on New Texas. As it is I may have to send another full battlegroup to the NCS. Just to even out the odds. What I want to know is how in the name of all that is holy and unholy could the Amazons build a military with over seventy-five heavy armored divisions, and one-hundred and twenty-five light divisions without us knowing about it? That doesn’t even consider the massive Navy to move those divisions.” Maiha was beyond pissed off. Her Intelligence organization had failed her.

“The same way that the Amazons have been able to infiltrate the Parliament to the point the way they have. Clones. Remember, Maiha, the Amazons believe the next step in evolution for humanity is cloning.” Maiha had to accept what Alice had pointed out to her. It was the truth after all. The Amazons could produce a thousand fully grown and trained clone soldiers in eighteen months. Alice drove this point home with her next words. “Just look at the size of the birthing factories. The smallest of them can produce a thousand worker clones in ten months. It doesn’t take much imagination or a DD-AI to figure how fast they can turn out soldiers.”

“Well they had their time in the sun.” Maiha growled out through clenched teeth. “Dee Dee, open a connection to Major General Howard.”

‘Opening now, Maiha. You should have full security with Mark.’

‘Thank you, Dee Dee.’ Maiha waited for Major General Mark Howard the commander of her personal bodyguard units, The Hellhounds. “Mark, are you people in place?”

“All set, your Majesty. The First Squadron is in position to arrest the suspected Parliament members. The Second Squadron will take down the Lords and Ladies of the suspect High Families. I have the Third and Fourth Squadrons at the Great Hall to take down the other suspects.”

Maiha sighed and gave the order. “Hound One, you are clear for Operation Valkyrie. I say again Valkyrie is a go, Hound One.”

“Understood, Wave Dancer, Operation Valkyrie is a go. Hound one out.” With that the connection went dead.

That one simple command set in motion a series of events that would culminate in the Great Hall of Parliament. The first of which was the coordinated arrests of forty-two members of the Parliament, and twelve members of the Hall of Lords. All of which were members of the Amazon Collective. Through all New Capital City, teams of Hellhounds surged out of hiding and over walls, through gates. Whatever it took to surround and arrest their assigned suspect. Each team of Infantrymen was supported by either heavy IFVs and tanks, or Armored Power Suits. The lightest of which as the namesake for the Regiment. The new eighty-ton H8-1H Hellhound. The heaviest of the new Armored Power Suits in the raids was the new one-hundred-ton E3-P1 Empress Assault Class APS.

Over the next hour, the Hellhounds carried out the orders of their Empress. Much to the displeasure of the Amazon Representatives and High Families. With less than an hour until the State of the Empire Address Maiha and Alice headed for the Great Hall. The Parliament, along with the Lords and Ladies of the High Families, had already gathered in their respected seats awaiting their arrival. The Empyreal Herald, Sir Raymond Fitzhue bowed to first Maiha then Alice. Turning to face the gathered members of the Legislative body. The Herald pounded the ceremonial Staff.

“ALL RISE! Her Honorable Lady of Starport, Duchess of Hades, Baroness of Hells Gate System, First High Lady of the Death Dealers, Defender of Empire, First Knight for the Temple of Ida-ten, Grand Dragon of the Space ways, Blood Sister to the Queen of High Winds, War Queen of the Elves, the Royal Empress, Maiha Mana Owens-Nakatoma.” When the Herald reached the end his announcement of Maiha’s titles he started in on Alice’s. Much to the Royal couple’s annoyance. Thankfully it was over quietly.

As the gathered members of the two halves of the Legislative branch applauded their arrival Alice and Maiha walked towards the front of the Great Hall. Alice could tell that Maiha’s already bad mood had been worsened by the Herald’s longwinded and over the top introduction. Then again, Maiha wasn’t known for standing on ceremony and every time she was forced to hear all of her titles read off Alice had to hold her wife’s hand to keep Maiha from killing a Herald doing their job.

Maiha stepped up to the dais and looked at the gathered Representatives. There were more than a few empty seats in the auditorium. All of which were in the Amazon Collective sections. She also knew that there were about to be a lot more empty, or blood covered seats. Maiha hoped it would just be empty seats. Taking a deep breath Maiha adjusted the microphone and placed her hands on the stand.

“Lords, Ladies, Senators, and Congressmen, I come before you this day with grave news. A situation has arisen within our Empire that threatens the very foundation of our existence. A situation that has never happened in our long and storied history. Revolt, and secession. As many of you have already noticed the empty seats the perpetrators of these vile acts are the Amazon Collective. Over the last month they have openly attacked members of the Empyreal Military on more than one planet in more than one system. In all but one instance the Collective has been beaten back. I most stress that at no time did the Empyreal Military’s Death Dealer Units initiate the confrontations.” As Maiha address the assembly members of her Personal Bodyguards, the Hellhounds, slowly moved into place for the second part of her plan to cut the heart out of the Revolt.

“The actions of the Amazon Collective has forced my hand in a matter that should have been handled in our Courts. Instead of bringing their grievances to this august body they went to war. Even now as I speak to you. The Death Dealers Twenty-second Battle Group have entered the New Confederate System to engage the Amazon forces on New Texas. The following Death Dealer Battle Groups have been sent to the Amazon Collective territories to quail this revolt. The eighth, ninth, tenth, fifteenth, twentieth, and twenty-five.”

A collective gasp of shock ran through the assembly at the idea of six full Battle Groups descending on three systems. With thirty-six combat divisions of Death Dealers to each planetary system the words ‘over kill’ were redundant. Six Battle Platforms, twenty-four Super Carriers, forty-eighty Texas Class Battleships, ninety-six destroyers, one-hundred and ninety-two frigates, and over three hundred Corsairs supporting those, one-hundred and eight combat divisions was enough to drive the fear of all that’s divine and demonic into the most ardent of fanatics.

The gathered assembly of Lords, Ladies, Senators, and Congressmen knew that soon those very Battle Groups would be raining down hellfire and brimstone on the Amazon Collective home worlds. Maiha kept her eyes on the representatives that she suspected as being compromised by the Collective. There were two Senators, and five Congressmen for each planetary system. Making for a total of eight-hundred Senators and two-thousand Congressmen. Twenty-eight-hundred men and women watched Maiha’s every move. That did not include the two-hundred Lords or Ladies that represented the High Families. A few of which were already missing thanks to the arrests of the Amazon High Family reps in New Capital City.

The total political might of the Empire in one Great Hall. Corrupted with a cancer that was choking the life out the august body. A cancer that Maiha was going to rip from that body with a simple act.

“It is with a sad heart that I must ask for your oaths of loyalty to the Empire.” That one request set in motion the trap that Maiha had set for the traitors. When the one-hundred and forty-eight Senators, and three-hundred Congressmen rose up in protest the Hellhounds moved in to arrest them with military precision. The Hellhounds covering the High Family Lords and Ladies struck with far more decisive action. Thirty-two cloned Lords or Ladies were cutdown were they stood or sat.

All through the Great Hall there was pandemonium. As Hellhounds took down the Amazon controlled clones. A few of them tried to get to Maiha and Alice in a vain attempt to either kill them or force the Hellhounds to negotiate. Those few were killed by other Senators and Congressmen. Maiha may not be one of the most loved Empresses, but she was the most respected. Maiha had expected to use her own personal weapons at one point but that point never came. In a way Maiha was greatly disappointed by this turn of events, as she really wanted the chance to putdown a few of the traitors herself. It has been over thirty years since she last got to put a life altering beat down on someone.

Three of the loyal Senators dragged one of the clones in front of Maiha. She looked down at the man who had at onetime been one of her most ardent supports. “Tell me where the real representatives are clone and I will spare your life.”

“They have all been Recycled for the greater glory of the Collective. Not even you and your freeborn scum Death Dealers can stop the inevitable conquest by the Collective. We have agents in all levels of the government. Cannot hope to smoke them all out before it is too late.”

“Oh, that is where you’re wrong. Even now, the Death Dealer Battle Groups are moving to put an end to the Amazon Collective. They are operating under Total War Orders. By this time next month nothing will be left of the Amazon Collective and its way of life.” Maiha looked up at the gathered members of her Parliament and Hall of Lords. “For the past twenty years this august body has tried and failed to pass legislation to end the practice of cloning. The reason has behind this failure has been the slow infiltration of clones loyal only to the Amazon Collective. No longer shall such perditions be tolerated. From this day forward ALL members of the Hall of Lords and Parliament shall be subjected to DNA isotonic testing, Loyalty Oaths, and Conditioning tests. Failures of one shall result in that individual’s removal.”

“By what right do you believe that you can subject us to such measures?” One of the Lords called from his position among his number.

“By the Lawful Right of Royal Succession, Lord Rockefeller. If you wish to Challenge my claim to the throne feel free to step up to the Circle of Equals.” Maiha smiled as she pointed at the circle in the middle of the Great Hall.

“I see no reason to Challenge you, Empress Maiha. I only wished to know under what law you can call for these measures to protect our Empire. As a member of this august body, I would be remiss in my duties if I had not challenged your decree.”

Maiha had to give the man credit. With a bow of respect to the man, Maiha smiled. “Lord Rockefeller, of all the Lords or Ladies, your loyalty has never been in question. You and your Family have always strived to uphold your duties to both the crown and to the people of your systems. I only offered you the Circle of Equals as a way to show those here that ALL are welcome to question my decrees. That I do not use my authority lightly. As much as I wish to leave the running of our Empire to you and the Prime Minister this is not possible. Not that I haven’t tried.”

“Empress Maiha, of all those present, I can honestly say that you do not shirk your duties to the Empire. I too, wish that you didn’t have to take so much of the governing of our Empire onto your shoulders. May we know what will happen to the individuals that were arrested?” Rockefeller asked of Maiha.

“As I stated they will be subjected to DNA isotonic, and Conditioning testing to prove they are not clones. Should they be proven to be clones they will be summarily executed. If they are proven to be who they say they are they will be released to return to their home worlds. There they will spend the rest of their lives as free citizens of the Empire. They will never again hold public office though. As their loyalty can no longer be trusted.” Maiha looked around the massive chamber before continuing. “As for the Amazon High Family Lords and Ladies. They along with their Delegation to Parliament. They shall be imprisoned until such time that they can be tried in a court of law for war crimes and High Treason.”

When no one raised an objection to her declaration Maiha bowed to the assembly. “I bid you all a good day. I have a war to win.”

As Maiha headed for the door to leave the Herald called out. “Long live the Empress Maiha Mana. Long may she reign.”

Once outside the Great Hall of Parliament Maiha breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Well that went better than I expected. Now, I just hope that James can hold on long enough for the relief force to reach him.”

“Don’t worry love. If there is one thing our son is good at. It is making the enemy pay for every inch of territory with body bags and blood.” Alice answered grimly.

“I have every confidence in him love. It is the enemy that I don’t trust. The Amazons are soon to be on the defense. They are already a wounded animal. They may well just decide that New Texas is not worth conquering and drop a planet killer.”

“I doubt that it will come to that love. The Amazons are a prideful people this is true, but they are not stupid. They will soon realize that their only hope of survival will be surrender. Despite the power of their military, they cannot stand up to the full weight of our Empyreal Death Dealer Battle Groups. Not even on their home world of New Brazil.” Alice stopped talking as they neared their transport back to the Palace. Once inside she picked up where she left off. “Never before has six full Battle Groups been deployed at one time. Have a little faith in your troops.”

“Oh, I have Faith in our troops Alice. And it is a full ten Battle Groups not six. Parliament may have been fighting me over the military budget, but I have been able to slowly build our forces up considerably over the last thirty years. They believe we have only thirty-five Battle Groups. The truth is we have far more than that. Sixty-five more Battle Groups to be exact.” Maiha gave Alice a sly smile at the look of shock that crossed her wife’s face. “Remember love, I never gamble with my money, only my life. Just because I let them think that our military is smaller that what it is doesn’t mean I holding something back.”

“Once again, Maiha, you have shown your mastery of warfare and politics.” Two hours later the Royal Couple's shuttle lifted off heading for Ryuk. Little did the those in the Hall of Lords and Parliament know that they were on their way to help in the relief efforts of New Texas. Once again, the ancient Battle Platform Ryuk was stepping onto the battlefield.

Amazon High Command, New Texas
Supreme Commander Victor Von Bencher, stormed through the halls of his Command Post heading for the post hospital. His mood was darkened by the reports coming in from the Panhandle, Franklin Mountains, White Sands Desert, in short, the whole Western front were depressing. The greatest blow to the Western Campaign was the destruction of the bridges over the rivers and gorges of the region. Of his twenty-eight divisions he had already lost three of them to rebel forces. One them on the bridges over the Greater Reo Grand gorge. The massacre of five regiments of mercenaries in the Bounty Hunter county region was an ever heavier blow to his forces wellbeing. The worse report to reach him though came from the assault on White Sands.

There were only two usable passes through the mountains that surrounded three quarters of the plains. Both of which were through the northern half of the mountain range. The Southern end of the plains was the only direct access to the White Sands Desert region. The problem was to reach the Southern end you had travel down to the coast then south along the coast for three-hundred miles. Then you had to turn north and march for another hundred miles before reaching the White Sands Desert. The only other approach was from the east across the Big Catfish River Delta and marshes. Not an easy approach by any means. There were spots in the marshes that were deep enough to swallow an Assault Class APS whole. That didn’t even take into account the wildlife that was deadly to unprotected Infantrymen.

What truly angered Von Bencher was the delay caused by those new fighters of the Empire. Their attack runs through those canyon passes had not only closed them but had forced the fourteen divisions assigned to that attack to halt in place. Without those divisions holding the Death Dealers attention on White Sands his forces would be slowly cut to pieces by the rising number of insurgent forces across the planet. He needed time to secure his rear areas and supply lines. Time that he did not have and was rapidly running out for his command.

Their whole plan for conquering New Texas had revolved around speed, firepower, and movement. They had obtained all but one of their initial objectives on the first day. Sense then his command had struggled for each new objective. The rebel forces and Death Dealers had slowed his forces down to the point that they were still trying to reach day seventeen objectives, let alone the planned objectives for the Eastern continent for day thirty. The plans for the smaller continent had been completely abandoned until the insurgent movement on the Western continent could be put down and the one Death Dealer Division had been either forced to retreat or was destroyed. Everything was coming apart and Von Bencher could do nothing to stop it. He was helpless, and he knew it.

The only good thing he had received a report on was the recovery of Emily Calisto. Her fighter was a total loss, but it could be replaced. They had plenty of fighter aircraft but were woefully short of pilots. He had read the reports of where the Empyreal pilots have been intentionally targeting his own pilots. The Imperialists were showing no mercy to the pilots of his force. For every two of his aircraft that were shot down, one pilot was killed in the exchange. He had no clue as to the reason why the enemy was targeting his pilots in this dishonorable way. That was why he was on his way to the hospital of his command post. Calisto was there, and she would have the answers he needed.

As he approached her room he heard the characteristic rant of the he-bitch when she was forced to deal with doctors. “I SAID GET THE FRACK OUT YOU ASSHOLES! I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP! I’M FINE! JUST GET ME A NEW FLIGHT SUIT AND LEAVE!”

The yelling was punctuated by the clatter of a steal bedpan rang out as it slammed against an unyielding wall. Von Bencher just sighed. “She is in rare form today. I wonder what set her off this time?”

Von Bencher just sighed and walked into the room that held his biggest pain in the ass, Emily Calisto. “Time to calm down, Flight Leader. Let the medics do their duty. That way you can get out of here all the faster.”

“No offense Supreme Commander, but they can go to hell. All I need is a fresh flight suit and a new fighter. That Claymore bitch destroyed my Marybelle. I want revenge. Just get me those two items and I’ll be fine.” Emily didn’t consider that she was addressing her Commanding Officer in a snipped manner.

“Before you get your wish Flight Leader I need answers. What the hell happened out there today? Your squadron outnumbered the enemy by almost three to one.”

“You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened! WE GOT OUR ASSES HANDED TO US BY JUST FOUR OF THOSE NEW FIGHTERS! THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED!” When Emily started to scream Von Bencher knew that there was more to the action than just her being shootdown. All he had to do now was pry it out of her.

“You will control your tone Flight Leader Calisto or be recycled.” The threat was enough to get Emily to calm down. “Now, take me through the mission step by step.”

Emily took a deep breath. “We were providing close air support to the First, Second, and Fourth Armored Divisions as ordered. When the fighters from White Sands started making bombing runs on the Northeastern canyon passage. Those two bomb runs shut the door on using that passage by dropping walls of the canyon across the roadbed in three places. Group Commander White order my squadron to breakoff and to attack the Imperialist Fighters. As we approached the area over the second pass I split my squadron in half. One half to deal with the two fighters flying escort, and one half to deal with the bombers. By the time we reached the second canyon it was too late. They had completed their mission of closing off both canyon passes. As both fighters were still a threat to the Third Army Group I gave the order to engage. After that it was nothing more than a knife in the air. I watched as Harlequin was blown to pieces before my eyes. That bitch didn’t even respect the code between pilots by allowing Harlequin to eject. Hell. She would have turned her guns on me if she had the chance after I ejected.”

“About that Flight Leader. Why are the Imperialists targeting our ejected pilots?”

Emily sighed as she looked her Commander in the eyes. “Those four cities you ordered to be nuked. That’s why they are targeting us when we eject from doomed fighters, and bombers. In their eyes we don’t deserve mercy or honor. I warned you that this could happen when you gave the orders for that attack. Now, we’re paying the price. We’ll keep paying the price of your stupidity until one of two things happen.”

“And just what are those two things, Flight Leader?” Von Bencher snarled at her condemning comments of his acts.

“We either blow White Sands off the map or we surrender the planet. Not that it will matter in the long run. That missing Death Dealer Battle Group with its eighteen combat divisions will be here shortly. Once they arrive, we will have lost our gambit here. I warned you Supreme Commander that we needed to push for the second day objects when we had the momentum.”

“That you did Emily. It was my fault that I didn’t listen and now we are paying for my mistake. How long do you figure we have before that Battle Group shows? Can we do anything to lessen its impact? And do we stand a chance of stopping the Ogre class dropships?” Von Bencher laid out what he thought was the important points.

“We might have a day to two days before that Battle Group shows up on our door step with eighteen pissed off combat divisions. As for trying to stop those Ogre class dropships. Forget about it. They’ll be coming in with a full carrier escort. And our only chance at lessening the impact of those carriers and their fighters is for us to use freshly hatched clones as suicide pilots. Those factory dropships can produce three fighters an hour. We may not have enough trained pilots, but they don’t need to be able to land. Just take off and crash.” Emily figured that the truth would be the best answer.

“Damn. Is there any other way Emily? I hate to waste valuable clones on suicide missions. They are another resource that we are fast running out of by the way. At last report a full third of our reserve force of clones has already being used. Much more and we’ll have to start accessing the new clone material before shipping.” The clone ship was sitting on the tarmac over at the spaceport. The very ship that had arrived two months ago carrying nine-thousand clones in sleep tanks. That nine-thousand clones were now down to just over sixty-five-hundred. Those clones were slowly being woken and were his only reserve personnel.

That dropship was more than just his lifeline. It was his only hope of winning. The dropship had already been attacked twice by the rebels. The rebel attacks on the airfield at the spaceport had reached such a height and frequency. That Von Bencher had been forced to place a full regiment of Light Infantry on guard duty for that dropship and the factory dropships. Another draw on his limited resources.

Emily gave Von Bencher a harsh look. “I won’t lie, Supreme Commander. I gave you the truth of our situation. Just as I told the truth when you ordered the bombings. And the consequences of those bombings. All I can do for you now is to go out there and climb into a new fighter. Then find that bitch Terresa Cole and kill her. Before she kills me, and a shit load of other pilots.”

“Just how deadly is Terresa Cole, Emily?”

“We have fought twice now, Supreme Commander. I have one win, and one tie to the woman. The next time we face each other will be the last. She is the only pilot that I will fear in the air. She is truly that deadly.” Emily told him.

Von Bencher wanted to tell Emily that she wouldn’t get her third chance at Terresa Cole but knew that it would be pointless. He would need every pilot he could get his hands in the coming days. This point was driven home by the arrival of a Communication Tech carrying an urgent message.

“Sir! This just in from Fleet Command. A full Death Dealer Battle Group has just entered the system. E.T.A. for planet fall is just under one day for eighteen Ogre Class dropships with their Super Carrier escorts. They have engaged and destroyed our entire fifth battle fleet sir. Admiral Klaus has scrambled the third and fourth fleets in an attempt to intercept the Ogres and their escorts sir.”

Emily just snorted. “Supreme Commander Von Bencher, if you want some advice I’ll give it to you freely.”

“Just tell me already Calisto. This time I will listen. There is no need for your insolence.” Von Bencher snapped.

“Have Admiral Klaus cancel the orders to scramble the remaining fleets. Especially orders concerning the remaining carriers. We’ll be needing their squadrons to fight the Death Dealers here on New Texas. If he has to send something to attack the incoming Death Dealer Dropships, send our destroyers, and frigates, but keep the battleships and carriers grounded. They will be our only hope of winning this war.”

Von Bencher thought over what Emily had just advised him to do. It all made sense. Von Bencher just sighed and turned to the Comm Tech. “Do as the Flight Leader suggested. Get a move on Private. We only have a short amount of time to stop those fleet carriers and battleships.”

The Comm Tech just saluted and ran from the room. “Any other advice Emily?”

“Just one more piece Supreme Commander.” Emily smiled up at him. “Get me a flight suit and replacement fighter. Now, not later.”

“Done.” Von Bencher turned to walk out of Emily’s room but stopped at the door. “And Emily, I have a piece of advice for you.”

“What is that sir?”

“Kill that bitch Terresa Cole this time, or don’t come back.” With that Von Bencher left Emily Calisto to think about the unsaid threat. If he had stayed to hear her answer he would have just chuckled.

“Don’t worry about that sir. This time, it will end differently. This time one of us will die. There will be no walking away from this one. For either of us.”

High Orbit over White Sands Desert
The eighteen Ogre Class drops were coming in on a high-speed burn assault burn. The lead dropships had already entered the upper atmosphere and were lighting up the night sky with their exhausts. Before long all eighteen divisions would be setting down on New Texas and they would begin their rampage to reclaim the planet. Carol Davenport stood outside of her command post looking up at the survival of her small force. The sight of the two Super Carriers in escort let her know that her extremely small force of pilots and fighters would finally get some rest.

Not that is would matter to one of her pilots. Nope, Terresa Cole was beyond pissed off at losing her pride and joy FB-11A1 Claymore. The only ray of sunshine in Terresa’s hell raising bitch fest over the destruction of her fighter was the news Chief Daily had her a replacement. That and she had been able to shootdown the Black Witch during their last engagement. The fact that it was an even trade did not go unnoticed to Carol or to Prince James.

She was more than happy to look the other way as Prince James took the young lady by the hand to drag her off the runway. This was one, time Carol Davenport was going to ignore the Regulations concerning fraternization between officers. Of all her pilots, Terresa Cole had done more for the war against the Amazons than anyone else. When she cornered Chief Daily about the number of air victories Terresa had Carol was shocked. In little more than one month of combat Terresa Cole had racked up fifty-three confirmed air-to-air victories. More than any other pilot in the Empire, save for a very small few. Most of whom were in the First Death Dealer Battle Group and the Empress’s Personal Bodyguard unit, the Hellhounds.

It had taken both the Prince and Chief Daily to calm the very volatile young Flight Lieutenant down enough to go see her new FB-11A2. Even Carol was interested in the upgrade design of that very deadly fighter. At first Carol couldn’t see any difference between the two aircraft. It took Chief Daily pointing them out to her. Carol had to admit that Chief Daily really had improved the Claymore.

Gone were the four PPC’s and ten PPL’s mounted in the central nacelle. In their place was two 40-millimeter, six-barrel Gatlin cannons. The 120-millimeter autocannon had also been replaced. In its place now was a 105-millimeter gauss rifle. These changes cut down on the heat buildup during intense combat operations. The new fighter was now armed with ten PPC’s all mounted in the wings increasing the fighters combat efficacy. The new fighter also had larger fuel tanks. Thus, giving it a greater rang and long staying power. The engines had also been given a nice boost in power. Making the new fighter faster than its predecessor. With these minor changes the Claymore went from being a solely Air Superiority or Attack fighter to a solid multirole role combat fighter. A fighter that could do more than just turn the tide of battle for New Texas.

Carol saw the new upgrade fighter and gave the order for the factory to produce them in mass. Before leaving the factory, she told Chief Daily to keep tinkering with the FB-11 design. The way she saw it was simple. If he could come up with the original design and the improved design, then he owned the design. He would also be the one responsible for any improvements to the new design. Then there was the surprise that she, Colonel Cole, and Major Cole were about to hand the incoming Death Dealer pilots. The solution to AI-burnout.

Four full squadrons of pilots would soon be given the chance for an upgrade to their AI and to put the fear of AI-burnout behind them. The second gen pilots were already showing that they were faster, stronger, and better equipped to handle the high-speed combat of an aerospace fighter or bomber. The latest exchange between just four of the new pilots verses eight of the enemy had proven this. The slowest recorded speed during the fight was 5.5 Mach. That fight had also pointed out the greatest weakness of the Claymore.

While the Claymore was faster and better armed it could not turn with the slower aerospace fighters. That was something else that Chief Daily had addressed with the upgradevA2 model of the Claymore. He had increased the control surfaces to allow for tighter turns and faster recovery from dives and climbs. In short, the new A2 model could turn tighter, bank harder, dive cleaner, and climb faster than any fighter in production to date. In Carol Davenport’s mind the FB-11A2 Claymore was the final evolution of the apex predator in the skies. And she was about to hand over four full squadrons of them to some very pissed off Death Dealer pilots.

“The Grim Riper is truly coming to breakfast. And he is bringing the hosts of Hell with him as his guests.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 22
Terresa Cole’s Bunker, Flight Line for White Sands R-n-D Center. Day 2 of the relief.
I couldn’t believe the layout for the new FB-11A2. The two 40-millimeter Gatlin guns and new 105-millimeter gauss rifle had addressed the close quarters combat problem big time. While I love to be able to stand off and blow my targets to kingdom come. PPLs and PPCs are just no good in a gunfight between aircraft. If you don’t have enough standoff distance those powerful weapons lose their greatest attributes. Heat and impact. When I told Chief Daily about how that bitch Calisto had gotten inside the effective ranges of those weapons and stayed there he went to work. He promised me a solution and he delivered his answer with the redesign of the FB-11A2 before it ever left the factory hanger.

James had taken me over to see the new aircraft and hand me the ‘keys’. As much as I wanted to name this one the Silver-Eyed-Witch II. I just couldn’t do it. I was stuck for a name until James patted the side of her. “She is a real close quarter killing bitch, Terresa. She will be meaner than my mother Maiha on a holy tear out for blood. The day you finally get Calisto in your sights. It’ll all be over but the dying. This is one is a real Death Scythe.”

“Thanks for naming her James.” I walked over the work bench and started look for a permanent marker. When I didn’t find one I turned to one of the ground crew. “Hey Sparks, you got a marker?”

“No ma’am. But if you’ll give a few minutes I’ll get one for you.” As he climbed out from under the portside wing. “What da’ ya’ need it for, ma’am?”

“I plan on naming my new baby that’s what for.” I told the man.

“Just write the name down on a piece of paper ma’am. I’ll make sure to painted it on the nose after we give her, her camo. Or do you want to go outside the box ma’am?” I gave Sparks a strange look. “The General sent down orders that pilots can request any paint scheme they want for the FB-11s. And seeing as how you were the original FB-11 pilot Colonel McQueen said that you get to name the new Squadron and choose your color scheme. Chief Daily laid out a set of paint chips for you.”

To say that I was stumped would be saying the sun rises in the east. So, I turned to the only source of help I had. James. “Any ideas Colonel?”

James just chuckled. “Terresa, I love you. You can take a fighter up and bring it back on a prayer. You can do things in flight that are so far outside of the box that you leave other pilots asking what the hell just happened. And yet, with all that imagination and passion you come up short on something so simple.”

“Damn it! James! This is not funny!” I seethed.

That just got to laughing harder. “Oh yes, it is! In fact, it’s downright hilarious.”

I stamped my foot and screamed at him. “STOP LAUGHING AT ME!” Which of course had the opposite effect. It got the fool to laughing even harder.

I waited until he had regained his composure before approaching him with the subject again. Until then I just turned my back to him. I know that I was acting like a spoiled brat just then, but he didn’t realize the importance of what I was being asked to do. The naming and picking the colors of a Squadron is normally a Division Command Level decision. You just don’t let a lowly Lieutenant name and form a Squadron for shits and giggles. The lowest rank ever recorded for doing something like this was a Marine full bird Colonel. If anyone should be naming a new Squadron it should be Colonel McQueen, not me.

I felt James’ arms wrap me in a hug. “Sorry for laughing love. I just couldn’t help myself. I thought you would have jumped at the chance to name the new Squadron.”

“That’s just it, James. Have you ever read the regulations concerning the naming of a unit or picking out a unit’s color scheme?” I asked while barely keeping the whine out of my voice.

“No. I honestly can’t say that I have. Why? What’s so important that there are actual regulations for it?”

I sighed. “James, if I did it, it won’t be legal. I don’t have nearly enough rank to form a Squadron. Let alone name one or pick out their colors. That has to be done at Division or higher. Unless you’re a full bird Colonel.”

“Oh, you mean that PESKY regulation. I think you need to read this before you go getting all nutso over not being able to name YOUR Squadron, Colonel.” James handed me set of folded pieces of paper. “Those are an Imperial order from the Empress herself. They came in with the morning dispatch packet from Empyreal High Command.”

I unfolded the papers and began to read. The first page was a listing of all my aerial victories. Beside every tenth was a notation marking or markings. I started matching the notations up with their corresponding notations on the second page. By the time I got done reading I had been promoted four times to the rank of Colonel, received five Air Medals, four Imperial Bronze Stars, three Imperial Silver Stars, Two Fly Crosses, and the Imperial Cross for Victory. I wanted to raise bloody hell with James for using his family connections until I read who had put me in for all of the Medals. Three of these medals all come with automatic promotions. This whole mess fell on the head of General Carol Davenport because she had to have signed off on three of those medals. The three that come with automatic promotions.

“Oh, and don’t feel like the Lone Stranger Terresa. You’re not the only one to have gotten a hefty boost in rank. I got my orders this morning also. You’re looking at the youngest Brigadier General in Death Dealer history.” For the fist time that morning I looked over at his rank insignia to see the single star of a Brigadier General on his shoulders. “And when your brother gets his happy ass back from wherever the hell he is. He is to be promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. In the words of my mothers. ‘The bravery of the One-hundred-and-first is the stuff of legends. Only two other times in the history of the Death Dealers has such bravery been such a common trait. Therefor it is by Imperial Command all those who serve upon New Texas be rewarded for their efforts.’ Basically, they promoted everyone in the one-oh-first one to two grades. But you my dear got something extra for everything you have done. You get your own Squadron of FB-11A2 Claymores.”

I doubted that James understood the enormity of the orders and the impact they would have on my life. I mean a less then six months ago I was a happy go lucky twenty-two-year-old carefree test pilot. Now, according to these fracking orders I am a full bird Colonel tasked with forming, training, naming, and finally commanding a brand-new Squadron. If my hair wasn’t already white it would have turned that way at the thought of what was before me.

“I don’t understand James. I know that I’ve gotten lucky and racked up one hell of a record in the air.” I said waving the orders in my hand. “But that doesn’t explain how I could have earned all of these awards. Let alone those last three.”

“Terresa, I want you to stop and think about something.” I wave my right hand for him to go on and get to the point. “Fine you want it short and sweet. Then I’ll give it to you. You have managed to save this base and division with nothing more than skill and a fast as hell fighter four times. That alone would have earned you the two Flying Crosses and ICV. When you start counting your air victories you jump off the damned chart for awards. By all rights, you should have received one Air medal for every five victories instead of every ten. Those bronze and silver stars are for everything else that falls under the header of fracking stupid you’ve pulled in helping to win this war. Shit like taking on eight super heavy bombers at altitude. On your own. Am I getting through to you yet, Terresa? You have earned every last one of those awards.”

“Okay, James. I hear you. It’s just that I don’t see what I’ve done as being all that special. I got lucky to have a Crew Chief and ground crew that know what they’re doing to keep me flying. I don’t know jack-shit about being a Commanding Officer. I’m still basically a newly commissioned test pilot. I was supposed to serve under a few dozen Commanding Officers before I got this kind of responsibility. Commanding Officers that were supposed to teach me HOW to be a Commander. DAMN IT! I don’t know one quarter of the shit I’m supposed to, to be a Commanding Officer.” I was almost in tears by now. I was beyond scared of screwing up and getting people killed in the air. I didn’t want the responsibility, not yet anyway.

“Look, Terresa, I know that you have gotten your new rank at a pace that is fracking nuts. The problem is those hardcore awards and no you can’t turn them down. Before you ask, I did not put you in for any of them. As much as I love you. I won’t dare to use my position as the Crown Prince to influence something so important. Getting you into the newest movie sure, but not rank changing medals. Not that you would have needed my recommendations. More than thirty some officers and over two-hundred Enlisted put you in for those awards, love. It just took time for the gears to slowly grind away through the massive amounts of paperwork. Oh, and before you blow your top. There is one more award coming to you that has yet to be announced. Before you ask no I didn’t put you in for it. Nor did anyone on this planet.”

I gave the man I had come to truly love a hard look. I have gotten pretty good at spotting the bullshit zone with James. I didn’t see any signs of him trying to bs me so let it drop. Besides, I knew that he wouldn’t ever think of using his rank and status to get me promoted. I had already warned him against that shit. The problem was there were only two awards that come down from Parliament and the Hall of Lords that I know. I already know that I don’t want either one. Thankfully, I can turn down those awards as they are proposed by civilians.

“Okay, I’ll deal with that shit after the war is over. Right now, I need help. Any ideas for what to name my new Squadron?” I asked of James. Only to have him shrug his should and give me a quirk of his lips. “Well, you’re no help.”

“Um… ma’am can I make a suggestion?” Sparks asks.

“I’m open for any and all suggestions, Sparks. What did you got?” I know that I was grasping at straws, but al least he was offering me something.

“Name them the Wraiths.” He held up his hand to stop my questions, so he could explain. “All of the members of your new Squadron have been shot down at least once. Like enraged ghosts you’ve all arisen from the grave seeking out vengeance. With the Death Dealer upgrades and these new Claymores. Every member of your Squadron has been reborn as Wraiths. Wraiths that are bent on destroying the Amazon Air Corps with every breath that you take.”

“He does have a point, Terresa. Your whole Squadron is a new and deadly thing. One so deadly that in your first engagement your squadron downed enemy fighters at a five to one rate. Even you were able to down two of the enemy KV-81s before being forced to quit the field. That was after you made not one, but two bombing runs in some of the tightest canyons in this god forsaken planet’s mountain ranges. I’ve talked with Colonels McQueen and McManus, they have both said basically the same thing. You and the new Death Dealer pilots fly as if you are ghosts.”

I thought about what James and Sparks were telling me. I was forced to see that they were only telling the truth. In a way I kind of like the fact that all the members of my new squadron had been shot down at one time and survived. That would make them more than willing to push their fighters to the edge just to get revenge. It also meant that we all had some thing in common. Which is never a bad thing.

Looking over at the paint chips I got this crazy idea. I quickly wrote out the name for my new FB-11A2 and what color to paint the squadron’s planes. “Sparks, get with Chief Daily and the others. Here are your instructions.”

“Um… ma’am, you know the Chief is going to have a bitch fit over this color scheme.”

“Don’t really care Sparks. If the Wraiths are going to make an impact on the battlefield we’re going to do it in style. By the way do you know what the designation for my new unit is?” I ask him.

“Yes ma’am. You’re now in command of the seven-hundred-and-seventy-seventh Interceptor Fighter Squadron. Why do you want to know ma’am?”

“I needed to know for my paperwork. That and to come up with a moto. Which you will paint on the tail fins of every bird. Felicis Fossor. I want it in bright yellow. Got that Sparks? I want those two words to stand out like a two-credit hooker on payday. During Fleet week on Earth Prime.”

“Lucky Fools? Really, Terresa? What kind of moto is that for a unit?” James asked with his trade mark smirk.

“One to remind my pilots to keep their heads on a swivel and in the game.” I gave James a hug, then turned to Sparks. “Make sure to tell Chief Daily exactly what I said about the color scheme for the squadron, Sparks.”

The crewman just salutes me and starts to mix the paint colors. As Terresa and James walk away from the bunker they can hear Sparks mumbling to no one in particular. “If that crazy assed officer thinks I’m telling the Chief about this paint scheme before I do it. she’s crazier than any of us thought.”

“You do know love that your ground crew must really love you dear.” James said as he placed his arm over Terresa’s shoulders. “Why do you insist on driving them crazy like you do?”

“I know that James. As for me driving them crazy. Let’s just say that payback is a bitch and leave it at that.” I chuckled.

“Okay, love. I leave you and your Ground Crew’s insanity alone.” James started guiding me towards the CP. With the arrival of the eighteen combat divisions of the twenty-second Death Dealer Battle Group things have changed some. Davenport was promoted to Planetary Commander. Gone were the days of her holding her morning meetings and commanding from general purpose large tents, mobile command posts, and hastily made bunkers. Now, in their place stood two T-98C2 Goliath Command Post transports. They were the first thing to offload from the massive Ogre dropships. The second thing was a full communications Battalion complete with an FTA transmitter.

AS those two units were setting up the eighteen divisions of Death Dealers deployed out across the white gypsum sand dunes that gave the complex its name. Even now those divisions were breaking up into combat teams. Three divisions to a CT. One light division and one medium division backed up by one heavy division. The Combat Teams would soon move across the Western continent of New Texas reclaiming the planet from the Amazons.

I for one was more interested in the two massive Super Carriers that landed at the extreme far end of the desert floor. When this war started there was just me and the fifteen test pilots of the R-n-D center providing what little air support we could for the 101st Division. Then we got a massive boost to our small yet dwindling air force from the local reserves. Not that it mattered. We were still losing fighters and pilots to the enemy forces. Of the original fifteen test pilots, only three of them were still flying. I know that mom, Sylvia, and the other doctors over in the MASH unit had done their best to save the lives of the few that were rescued after being shot down. I’ve visited the few that did survive in the hospital. As bad as the base’s losses were, they paled in comparison to Colonel McManus’s unit.

Colonel McManus had lost over ninety percent of fighter pilots on the first day of the war and all of his fighters. With those two Super Carriers we now had four fighter squadrons and two bomber squadrons reinforcing what had become a rag-tag force of twenty-eight pilots and fighters. Of those that had been at the base before their arrival most were former members of the New Texas rebel forces. The Commanding General of the Twenty-second Battle Group said that our continuous nonstop action had only been seen one other time in history. Some place called Great Britain during the Second World War of the twentieth century. The Lady Saris Victoria quoted some guy named Churchill. Never had so many owed so much to so few when describing our actions to the Empress.

Another thing that had changed since the beginning of the war was me being at the morning command meetings. Ever since I pointed out the weak points in our defenses and taking on the Peacemakers, Colonel McManus practically demanded that I be included in the meetings. General Davenport just smiled and appointed me to be his Deputy for the meetings. Then again having the love interest of the Crown Prince on hand to keep him in line wasn’t too shabby a move either. Then there was that nasty habit some of the, well a lot of the Officers, have gotten into lately. I keep trying to correct them that I’m NOT some High Families Lady, but yet they still greet me with Lady Terresa. Thank the goddess that the Enlisted haven’t heard them say that shit. As things would get the frack out of hand.

As we walk up the ramp to the massive Goliath transport I felt a chill of excitement run down my spine. The T-98C2 Goliath was a fully contained ground transport weighing in at ninety-five tons empty. When compared to the T-98C2 Goliaths a standard MCU was barely more than armored personnel carrier. The T-98 was twenty-five-feet wide, thirty-feet tall, one-hundred-feet long, with enough armor to make a Fire Support APS envious. Manned by a crew of eight, two drivers, two co-drivers, and four service crew. The wheels were powered by twenty-four all-terrain engines and transitions. Each wheel stands ten-feet tall and are three-feet thick, with half of that height being applied to the ground-clearance for the transports.

With their massive size and weight Goliaths were the prefect platforms for MASH units, Communication Units, NBC units, and Army Group Command posts. They were slowly replacing the Mobile Command Units for those duties. At more than one-hundred-million credits per unit, and more than twelve months to build, Goliaths were relegated for Command and Support units use only. As I thought about the cost of just one of these monsters, I was reminded that they were not indestructible. Mom’s MASH unit had lost one shortly after the war started. Even the massive automated factories, below the Base, couldn’t replace that priceless piece of kit in under twelve months. To have three of them dedicated just to the Command and Control for the twenty-second Battle Group’s combat divisions was a sign of the military firepower that has been brought to free New Texas. Then again, just a few short decades ago the Death Dealer Battle Groups would be considered whole Army Groups. Now, the Empire only considers an Army Group to be three Battle Groups. That is fifty-four combat divisions with a supporting battle fleet.

James and I were greeted by the Sentry with the Challenge of the Day. After giving the Password the Sentry allowed us through. I felt a shiver of fear pass over me as we walk passed the man. It wasn’t the fact that we were Challenged. It was the fact that the Sentry was in full Death Dealer combat armor and stood well over six-foot, closer to seven feet tall. The man was obviously from Doreen V. There weren’t too many Death Dealers from that planet. They were also not know for their control in combat. Only the Walkatonie are more feared on the battlefield. I know that my fear was irrational but when you are barely five-foot tall, people who stand over six-foot are giants. I have really come to hate my short stature and having to look up all the time at most people.

“You really need to get over your fear of people over six-foot love.” James whispered to me as we walked through the trailer. “Sooner or later you will need to meet my moms, aunts, and uncles. More than a few of their bodyguards are from Doreen V or are full blooded Walkatonie.”

“I know that James.” I whispered barely controlling the hiss in my voice. “I just haven’t gotten used to looking up at almost everyone, but people that tower over even you scare the crap out of me.”

“I understand that love, but it doesn’t explain why you’re so comfortable around Chief Daily.” James pointed out to me.

“That is simple. He is my Ground Crew Chief. He’s like most Maintenance Chiefs. He hates having to train new officers, so he covers my ass. I in turn keep him and his Ground Crew out of the bullshit whenever possible.” My quick explanation of my relationship with Chief Daily and his crew made James smile.

“And you’re worried about not having what is takes to be a Squadron Commanding Officer.” James said with a smirk and a wink. “Just get doing what you do with your Ground Crew now. Only do it on a larger scale and you’ll be fine. Just don’t be afraid to come down on them when they screw up.”

“I don’t have that problem. Just ask Corporal Keller. His happy ass is digging foxholes and bunkers over at the MASH for every last member of that unit. For being drunk on duty last week.” I was still pissed at the man for that stupidity.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve heard all about your less than orthodox method of corrective training. I must say that you really got the attention of the Enlisted with that stunt. I’ve had more than a few of the Enlisted coming to me on Keller’s behalf.” James told me with a chuckle as we entered the Command Center.

Before I could make a comeback, General Davenport stepped in front of me. “Colonel Cole, I expect my Commanding Officers to be in uniform at all times. Especially for the morning command briefings. General McManus see to correcting this oversight by your Staff Officer.”

I looked over at McManus to see that he was indeed a one star General now. I just stood there as he walked around the holograph table to stand in front of me. There was a smile playing across his face. In his hands was a set of silver eagle pins. The insignia for a full Colonel. I handed one to James and stepped to my left side.

“These were my first pair of chickens, Terresa. They were passed down to me from my Colonel as they were passed down from his. You will be the eighth person to wear these eagles and the first female among them. I hope they bring you as much luck as they have brought me. Remember that the one with the broken off talon is always worn on the left shoulder.”

I couldn’t believe that this shit was actually happening. Even as James and McManus were pinning the eagles on my shoulders General Saint read out the orders promoting me to full Colonel. I looked over at James who had a smile on his face. I wanted to pound him but, with all of these General Staff Officers present, I doubted that I could get away with it. As they stepped back General Davenport smiled at me.

“Congratulations Colonel. I know that your promotion has to be a shock, but those orders came in with the rest of your awards in this mornings COMPAC.” She looked around the room at the many new faces that were present. “As you can see Colonel, more than a few faces have been added to this morning’s meeting. They’re the Commanding Generals for the eighteen divisions that have relieved our small resistance. They all wanted to be here to meet the Flight Officer that had racked up such an impressive record of victories.”

There was one Death Dealer Officer that stood out among the others. Her pale skin, blood red lips, and sunglasses marked her as being a citizen of Wallachia. After spending four years with a ‘vampire’ for a classmate I could spot one a mile away. With the twenty-second here she could only be THE Lady Saris Victoria. Currently the only Wallachian to have reach the rank of High Lord or Lady of Death Dealers. The ruby tips of her ‘fangs’ stuck out over her lower lip, giving her a predatory appearance that was almost supernatural.

As Lady Saris walked up to me I had to fight my natural impulse to cover my neck. The ‘vampire’ act was exactly that, an act. I knew far too much about the people of Wallachia from my classmate Silas Tamm. The bit with the teeth was something that more than a few of the military minded Wallachians did for the intimidation factor. Silas told me that it went back to some guy named Valid Dracula. She could tell that she had put me on edge. The woman must have a witched funny bone.

Saris cracked a smile and went with as a greeting. “I vant to drink your blood! Bla babla!” I couldn’t help it and busted out laughing. “It is good to see that you have not lost your sense of humor, Colonel.”

“Lady Saris, I can honestly say that Terresa losing her sense of humor has never been in danger of happening.” General Davenport quirked. “Now, her temper on the other hand is a totally deferent story. She likes to dislocate the joints of people who have pissed her off. That or blow them out of the sky.”

“Yeah, wait a minute I’m not that bad, General.” I had to try to defend myself against these baseless accusations. Needless to say, all of my rebuttals fell on deaf ears. Rebuttals that only produced rounds of laughter. Needless to say, I was miffed. No, I’ll be honest, I was pissed.

Lady Saris took pity on me. “Don’t worry Colonel Cole. I know the value of having such a reputation for being a Hellion. You’ll find that in the coming years that it is an asset rather than a hindrance. Especially when dealing with troublesome young Lieutenants and Captains.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that Lady Saris. Right now, I would settle for certain members of the Command Staff not pegging me for a trouble maker.” I answered.

“On the contrary Colonel Cole. The Command Staff here hold you in nothing but the highest respect. Those awards packets had to come through my office before being forwarded to Empyreal Military High Command. I won’t even go into the number of officers that send in their own recommendations for those same awards. At last count there are over fifty-seven officers on that list alone. As for the Enlisted members of this base there are more than two-hundred names on the list of those who have recommended you for the ICV, Flying Cross, and the Bronze and Silver stars. Hell, you deserve the promotion to Major just for your work in solving AI-burnout among our pilots. Then there is your work on the F1-E5 Strike Eagles. That alone would have earned you a promotion to Captain well ahead of normal time frames.”

Lady Saris stood before me with a very serious look on her face. “You have shown a knack for finding and then trouble shooting problems that could only be matched by seasoned Field Officers. You have gone out of your way to hide your accomplishments. When the time for actions against an enemy force you have yet to shirk your place on the line. You have continuously pushed yourself to further and further acts of selfless devotion to duty. Always placing the safety of others above your own. I along with just about every Death Dealer Lord or Lady has read the after actions reports concerning your battles. With the exception of a few, you have more than earned your rank of Colonel.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Most of the High Lords and Ladies of the Death Dealers approve of my new rank. I had never expected this kind of praise. Let alone the awards that I had received. I had to set this misconception of me right.

“Lady Saris, of all things that you have said most are true. As for going out there and putting myself on the line that is what I do. I’m a fighter pilot. My battle position is in the cockpit of a fighter going all out pushing the edge of sanity. With my ass set on fire at the same time. Any of the other pilots would have done the same thing that I have. I’ve just been lucky.”

Saris looked over at James. “Is she always like this, your Highness?”

“Yes. I wish she would take more credit for her accomplishments. Hell, I showed her a copy of her orders earlier just, so she would name her new Squadron.” James complained to the gathered officers.

“Speaking of your new Squadron, Colonel. I need their name for the roster.” General McManus said from his position on the other side of the trailer.

“I too would like to know who my pilots will be flying with. No sense in shooting down friendly pilots.” A rather smug looking bitch with the rank of a Naval Commander said. The hand on my shoulder stopped my normal reply to smug bitches on the tip of my tongue. James gave me a look that said, ‘play nice Terresa’.

“Commander, let me be very clear on this matter. Because I won’t warn you or your pilots again. You fire on my pilots they will fire back. Only they won’t do it by mistake, and they will shoot to kill. And understand something Commander, the Wraiths of the Seven-hundred-and-seventy-seventh do not take prisoners.” I didn’t care what the gathered Generals thought. I was going to get my point across to this bitch. If she let her pilots run wild mine will put them in the ground.

“Do you really think your pitiful Squadron of crop-dusters can stand up to fully trained fighter and bomber pilots of the Empire, little girl?” The little girl comment almost got the bitch shot in the CP. I was beyond pissed now.

“Commander Houseman, if I were you, lassie, I would quit while you be ahead. Ye, be not wanting ta tangle with them so-called crop-dusters. Every last one of them is a fully blooded killer of the skies. Each with at least five kills apiece. Can you be saying the same for your pilots?” McManus jumped to my Squadron defense so fast that I thought my head was going to pop off. “I thought not. I suggest you apologize to Colonel Cole before she takes you to task.”

“Believe me, Commander Houseman, that is something you really don’t want to happen. Because unfortunately for your sorry ass, when it happens I’ll be looking the other way. Terresa Cole has earned my respect and loyalty you haven’t.” I looked over at General Davenport like she had just grown a second head.

“Get to it Houseman. Before I beat you the frack down for what you’ve pulled in here. And I got the means and the training to take your ass bare handed.” I spun towards General Camron of the nineteenth Light Infantry Division in total surprise. The man didn’t even know me, but he was willing to fight for me. I got my answer for his reaction from another of the gathered Generals.

“If he doesn’t Houseman, I’ll be more than happy to handle the task. I’ve told you more than once to respect the local assets. Your boys and girls aren’t nowhere as good as you think. One of these days you’re going to let that alligator mouth of yours overload your jaybird ass. I just hope it doesn’t get one of your pilots killed.” The other Navy Commander in the room snapped. “Colonel Cole, you’ll not have any problems out of the Nine-oh-second Squadrons of the Queen Elisabeth.”

“Typical of you Carter. Back the local want-a-bees. Just because the Silver-eyed-bitch got past her expiration date doesn’t mean she good.” That was it I had, had enough. The bitch was going to die. My sidearm cleared its holster faster than Houseman could deploy her weapons. I pulled the trigger twice. I put one round in each shoulder at less than fifteen feet. Even as she was falling towards the floor the other Generals and Naval Officers of the twenty-second Death Dealer Battle Group were looking at me in total surprise. Only the officers of the 101st weren’t surprised by my actions to Houseman and her antagonistic attitude.

Davenport just leaned out the CP door. “Call for a medic, Johnson. No hurry.”

“General Davenport, are you just going to stand there and let a junior officer just gun down a fellow officer over self-expression?” One of the General’s from the combat divisions practically demanded of Davenport. “If you won’t do anything to this upstart I will. I want that Silver-eyed-slut in irons before the sunsets.”

I knew that I had just screwed the pouch big time but didn’t care. Me and the pilots of White Sands have been in continuous flight operations since this shit started and I was in no mood for some rich High Families bitch’s bullshit. I was surprised by another of the 22nd Generals coming to my rescue. “Gordon, I would shut the frack up before General Davenport shoots you. The young lady, that you just demanded the arrest of, is more than just a hero on this base. She is the Second Fracking Coming of the Almighty for the Enlisted and can do no wrong in their eyes. I suggest that you start making your apology now.”

“Miller you cannot seriously be taking that thing’s side? I’ll give the Amazons this much. They know how to deal with genetic freaks like that Claymore slag.”

That got more than one weapon pointed at General Gordon. Most surprisingly General Davenport was one of the people pointing a weapon at the man. The snarl that came from between the clench teeth of Command Sergeant Major Southerland had everyone's attention. “Ya’ disrespect our Glinda one more time and none of you will leave here alive.”

That was another change in the past few days. Someone in the ATC Tower had started calling me Glinda instead of Scorpion during operations. It had taken me and Lilly a while to find any references to a Glinda. Something about a Good Witch of the North and an ancient 2-D entertainment video made in some place called Hollywood Land about some girl from Kansas. Glinda, is also known as the Good Witch of the South, a fictional character created by L. Frank Baum in his Oz novels. I wasn’t too keen to the idea of being called some kind of Witch, but then again, I’ve been called a Silver-eyed-Witch from the first hour after leaving my cocoon. Being named after the Good Witch Glinda has been growing on me fast. I have come to like the name and been thinking about changing my Call sign officially.

“General Gordon, let me explain something for you about the Sergeant Major.” Davenport smirked. “He does not make idle threats, has the respect of every last person in this room and he could very well Command the One-oh-first in my place. If he gives the order to fire, you’ll be filled with so many holes you’ll look like that moldy cheese from Switzerland.”

“Alright people let’s all just calm down here. No need for more bloodshed.” Lady Saris said trying to defuse the very tense situation. Only to have James overrule her with a smile and hand on my shoulder.

“That is where you’re wrong Lady Saris. Colonel Cole has been insulted for the last time by your Command. Either you get a handle on the situation or I will. The last time I looked I’m still the Crowned Prince. I will not have such nonsense bigotry within the ranks of our forces. Especially among its Commanding Officers.”

“Prince James, I must admit that I am just now seeing the level of bigotry in my Command. It seems that more than a few of the officers under me believe that they do not have to follow personnel order seventeen-ten or the associated articles.” The was a note of finality in Saris’ voice as she turn to Gordon. “Well, Gordon. We’re waiting. We don’t have time for your petty bullshit.”

When Gordon didn’t answer right away Saris drop her bomb. “General Nathanial Gordon you are here by relieved of command. Guards take him away to wait trial for multiple counts. I hope you like Hoth, Nathanial.”

“You can’t do this to me! I’m a member of the High Families. I have rights!” The more that Gordan ranted the more James just wanted to shoot him. Me. I didn’t give a shit, so long as he was gone. I also watched as three medics came in and removed Houseman from the briefing room. I knew that they would end up in the tender mercies of my mom and sister. I felt no pity for the bitch. As for Gordon he would get to see the inside of the base’s brig for the rest of this war.

“Colonel Cole, I would like to apologize on behalf of my Command. No one should have to put up with such ignorance. Unfortunately, not all members of the Death Dealers can put aside the old hates and fears.” Lady Saris was saying to me as I watched the procession out of the room.

I waved away her apology with a smile. “Ma’am, in the words of my mother. They can go piss up a rope. I’ll live my life despite what they want. Fast, free, and unashamed of who I am. I am more than just a Claymore.”

“She’s my daughter for starters.” Came mom’s voice from behind me as she entered the room. To be followed by Sylvia’s voice.

“She’s my sister, and my hero.” Sylvia walked up to me and hugged. “Congrats on the promotions. You deserve them.”

“Don’t hog the hugs sis. Move over and let me in there.” I looked over to where the voice came from and was surprised to see Sylvester. He walked up to me and gave me a half assed salute then hugged me. “Way to go sis. I just wish I had been there to put in my own recommendation.”

“And just what would you have put her in for Major Cole?” Lady Saris asked.

“Simple ma’am. The Imperial Parliamentary Medal of Honor. Nothing less. If you want a reason that’s simple. She flew escort duty for all six of our deep strike missions with no wingman. More than forty hours in the air. And not one lost transport. That is an unprecedented record. Not only was she able to safely escort six deep strike missions she racked up twenty-three air-to-air victories while in the performance of her escort duties.” There was something about the way Sylvester basically challenged any one to cast doubt on his claims.

Lady Saris held up her hands to warn off the Cole’s. “Peace. I have nothing but the highest respect for Colonel Cole and all she has accomplished.”

I cleared my throat. “Can we get on with the morning meeting? Or does someone else want to pull a bonehead stunt?”

When no one spoke up General Davenport started to chuckle. “Colonel Cole I must say that you know how to liven up a boring assed morning meeting.”

“I do my best ma’am. Sorry about the blood on the new floors.” I said pointing to where Houseman had been bleeding from her gunshot wounds. Which of course brought a round of laughter from those who remained. Davenport waved for everyone to gather around the main holo-tank and then pointed for one of the Intel Officers to start.

“Morning ladies and gentlemen. I’m Colonel Martian Shore with the one-oh-second Military Intelligence Battalion. And for the first time in a month I have the pleasure of reporting some good news.” The man looked over at me and then Sylvester. “Between the efforts of Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel Cole the bridges over the Reo Grand gorge have been destroyed. With the destruction of those three bridges the nine heavy divisions in the northern half of the continent have been isolated. Rendering them combat ineffective and a non-threat to our upcoming operations.”

“What about the air support those divisions have? Can those units be shifted to other divisions or rolls?” Asked one of the relief Commanders.

“Unfortunately, that has already taken place, General. The three squadrons of KV-81 Sturmgewehrs have been shifted to the central command.” Shore looked over at me. “Colonel Cole, you should know that we have reports, unconfirmed, that the Black Witch has already secured a new KV-81 Sturmgewehr with the sole purpose of shooting you down. I wish you the best of luck when you next face off.”

“Don’t worry about me, Colonel Shore. I plan on putting that bitch’s Jolly-roger on my fuselage. When that happen is all up to the Fates. Any idea of when the River Sluts plan to attack us next?” I wanted solid Intel on the River Sluts. As it was they have been sending harassing attacks by squadrons of F-86 Super Sabers over the mountain ranges every few hours. “I know that the guys driving the Strike Eagles have been having fun shooting them down as if they’re in a target gallery.”

“It seems that the Amazon forces have been forced to retreat beyond effective strike range for their air support. They have become extremely conservative of their fighters and light bombers. Between Colonel Cole’s efforts and those of the fighter pilots of this base the Amazons have lost a total of two-hundred-and-eighty aircraft. We have been trying to get an estimate for their total tactical strike aircraft and have failed repeatedly. The best that the Texans have been able to tell us their number was around nine-hundred-and-eighty at the start of the war. The problem is that number is unconfirmed. It could have been higher.”

I couldn’t believe what I just heard. Over nine-hundred aircraft at the start of the war on New Texas alone. That couldn’t have been correct. My thoughts must have shown on my face. Because Shore put the truth to thoughts.

“I know what you’re thinking Colonel Cole and as much as I wish I could dispute the evidence I cannot. The River Sluts could very well have started the war off with more aircraft than we initially thought. Unlike us the Amazon High Command have taken to using a military philosophy and doctrine from around the late twentieth century. One used by a combined arms military. For every division they deploy they deploy two squadrons of fighters, two squadrons of ground attack bombers, one squadron of medium bombers, and one squadron of heavy bombers. For the Amazon Collective the concept of a three-D battle front has been taken to a whole new level. For them there is no front-line trooper without air support. At the start of the war there were twenty-eight enemy divisions on New Texas. Equaling twenty-eight enemy air regiments. Of those twenty-eight air regiments you and the members of the triple seven, have been able to down two full regiments. On the bright side the Amazons lost two full regiments with the destruction of their Super Carriers.”

“What you’re saying is we’re only facing twenty-two to twenty-four regiments now.” One of the Generals said with a smile. Not really understanding the simplest of facts. We were still out numbered by eleven to one.

“Yup, we’re screwed. Any body got the number for a good proctologist?” I asked the room in general with a smile.

-----tbc-----

Chapter 23
Mobile Command Post for Amazon Supreme Command Von Bencher, Day 6 of the Relief.
Victor Von Bencher could not believe what he was reading. All across New Texas his forces were being forced to retreat. Of the twenty-eight divisions he had started this war with, eight have either been captured or destroyed. As for the mercenary regiments only six of them were still in the field fighting. The other eight regiments had either been captured or wiped out. Of the remaining seven carriers only two of them were in the super carrier class. Between them, and the medium class carriers, their squadrons of fighters and bombers were holding the advance of the Death Dealer battle groups to just under 70 miles a day. The battleships of his support fleet have been able to cut off the costal roads limiting the Death Dealers to using inland routes only.

Not that it mattered. The Death Dealer divisions were still spreading out from the Great White Desert. When he found out that the Engineer Battalions of the Death Dealers cleared both of the passes through the Franklin Mountains in just thirty-seven hours he almost ordered the recycling of his Chief Intelligence Officer. The woman had made the prediction that the clearing the passes would take more than seven days. Because of that prediction Von Bencher had ordered the Third Army Group to take the long away around the mountain range. That powerful Army Group was now out of position to attack the White Sands Base. Even worse the Death Dealers fourth and fifth Battle Groups were now in position to attack his forces from the rear. With full air support from the Base.

Victor scowled as a Comm Tech approached him with a new stack of reports. “How bad is it, Private?”

“The outer provinces reports sir.” As all the Private said as he handed over the reports. Once Victor had them in his hands the Private retreated to the far end of the MCU. He wanted to be as far away as possible. Von Bencher’s temper had gone by leaps and bounds over the past few days. He had already gunned down a Sub Commander for daring to suggest that they retreat from the Eastern Continent.

Victor slowly read over the reports from the outer provinces. As he read Victor began to form a picture in his head of the situation. The picture wasn’t very bright. In truth, it was extremely bleak. The light and medium Infantry Divisions he had assigned to those areas were fast becoming outnumbered by a growing guerrilla force. These small bands of fighters were using hit and run attacks to demoralize his Infantry in the outer provinces. They have even managed to stage simultaneous rocket attacks on nine of the Fire Bases. The guerrillas had done this not once but five times in the past ten days.

Yet it was the reports coming out of Nowhere that were the most worrisome. Of the five mercenary battalions he had sent in to quell the guerrilla actions four had been totally destroyed. The heads of those dead mercenaries were found atop spiked polls lining the two roads leading into the frontier town. The brutality of the attacks on the mercenary units was reaching an unheard-of level. The one battalion that had reached the town sent back a report of what happened to the other units then went silent. Not one word has been heard from them since.

The other disconcerting report of guerilla activity was out of Bounty Hunter County. The sniper attacks there had reached an all time historical high. Not even in the great wars of the twentieth century were the number of sniper attacks so high or so varied. Officers, enlisted, NCO, combat, combat support, it didn’t matter to the snipers in Bounty Hunter County. It was as if the people of that county were trying to live up to their name. At last count the number of deaths by sniper attack had reached a staggering nine-hundred and sixty-four. With more coming in each day.

The reports from the Cut and Shoot area of operation wasn’t much better. The supply depot there has been under constant mortar attacks for the last five days. Those attacks had crippled the supply depot and surrounding fire base. Greatly weakening his abilities to conduct combat operations in the area. The more Victor read the madder he became. It was the last report that finally pushed him over the edge.

“GODS BE DAMNED!” At this outburst all the command staff for the MCU made sure they were facing towards their screens. “THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!”

Sum Commander Markus Stone was the only one brave enough to confront Von Bencher when he was this enraged. “Supreme Commander what’s happened?”

Von Bencher sighed then looked down at the report in his hands. “The High Council has been arrested. All of our supporters with the Parliament have been killed to the last man or woman. The Empress has sent six full Death Dealer Battle Groups to our home worlds. Even now Death Dealer Combat Divisions are sweeping across the Home worlds destroying all military resistance that comes before them. Not even our greatest battleships and supercarriers have been able to stand before those accursed Shinigami battle platforms. The home world systems will be lost to us in a matter of days. Everything we have done here has been for nothing. All we can do now is order a full withdrawal and try to escape this planetary system. We are all that remains of the next step in human evolution. We must survive so that the Amazons do not fade into history once again. We the Amazon Collective Military Class as a whole are doomed. Yet we can save our society.”

“I shall begin making preparations for our evacuation at once Supreme Commander. I can have a fully fleshed out plan in six hours, sir.” Stone was thinking fast. He had not expected for Von Bencher to tell him the home world systems were lost. The very concept was beyond his comprehension. It was beyond the comprehension of most clones within the Warrior cast. The idea that their home worlds’ military defenses could be so easily swept aside sent a chill of uncontrolled fear down Stone’s spine. Then a thought occurred to him. “Sir, why would the Military class be doomed? The Death Dealers do not massacre POW’s.”

Von Bencher sighed as he did not want to discuss the Clone Armies that defended the home worlds. Yet, Stone had earned the right to know the truth. “Let’s step outside Sub Commander. This is a topic for Command level Officers only.”

The two men walked out of the MCU and off to the far side of the compound to one of the most isolated areas. Von Bencher pulled out a pack of mini-cigars, handed one to Stone and took one for himself. After lighting up Von Bencher took a deep drag and exhaled. He looked out on the surrounding Command Group vehicles. Looking over at his XO Victor made up his mind.

“This does not go beyond us Stone. As it is now I am committing High Treason against the Collective by telling you this. The Home Guards are not your normal Warrior clones. The truth of the matter is they are either one of two people. One is used for ground forces while the other is exclusively used as aerospace pilots. Haven’t you ever wondered why you never see them without their tactical helmets. It’s because they are the same person over and over with no variation. They are also programmed with unconditional loyalty to the Collective. They will never surrender. They will continue to fight suicidality to the last man. The only way to stop them, is to kill them all. Do you understand now why I said our class is doomed?”

Stone thought about what Von Bencher just told him. “Sir, are you saying that once the Death Dealers confront the Home Guard it will be kill or be killed? That there will be no quarter given by the Home Guard or the Death Dealers?”

“No, that is not what I was saying. The Death Dealers would be more than willing to give quarter. It is the Home Guards that will be the problem. Their very programing will force the Guards to fight to the death taking as many Death Dealers with them as possible. Like I said earlier the Home Guards are suicide troops.”

Stone stared at his Commander in utter shock. The idea that the Collective would break the one law that could bring the Empire down on their heads was almost too much for him to handle. Using clone tech to expand and populate was one thing, as it allowed for there to be multiple variants within each class, but to duplicate a single clone to infinity for the single purpose of building an army was a direct violation of the cloning laws. Then to make those clones nothing more than suicide troops broke every moral conviction of the Amazon Collective. It was just too much for Stone to take in at one time.

“How could the High Council allow such an unequivocal crime sir?”

“Don’t you get it Stone?” A voice from behind him grabbed his and Von Bencher’s attention. They both turned to see Emily Calisto standing smirking. “Our great and glorious leaders knew all about those clones and what they were to be used for. They just don’t care. As far as they are concerned you, me, Supreme Commander Von Bencher, and the enter New Confederate Expeditionary Force are expendable. They can replace us with their perfect Home Guards at a moment’s notice if we become unpredictable.”

“Care to explain how it is you know such sensitive information Flight Leader?” Stone demanded of Emily.

“Because I pay attention to what goes on around me Sub Commander Stone. Unlike you, I can ill afford to just accept the party line. I do that, and I’m dead meat. Nothing more than a clone awaiting the recyclers. Something you need to remember Sub Commander Stone. You’re just like me. One mistake away from the next batch of new cloning material. Which for you means you get dropped into the vats still kicking and screaming as the liquefaction chemicals work their way through your system. At least they’ll put a bullet through my head before that happens.”

With that Emily tossed the man a salute and walked away. Stone grounded his teeth as the she-male pilot walked away without so much as a how-do-you-do or go frack yourself. “Sir, I know that we need that he-bitch right now, but must we put up with her insufferable attitude?”

“Unless you can find me two-hundred, gods be damned, pilots that can match only half her skills then yes. Before you go bragging about how we outnumber the Death Dealers in pilots and aircraft I want you to think about something. Until just a few days ago our aerospace regiments only had to deal with twenty Second Gen Death Dealer pilots. Now, they have had more than thirty with more coming online every day. Normally, I would agree with you about our numbers giving us the advantage. Not here, not now, not any more. Not against these types of pilots with those new fighters of theirs. With just one of those twin-tailed devils they have been able to practically derail our battle plans. Now they have over sixty of them according to our satellite scans. Not even our most advanced fighter can match the speeds of those fighters. The KV-81s are a match for those F1-5E Strike Eagles but that is all. Even those damned Strike Eagles are nothing to scuff at. In the right hands those fighters can tear apart any fighter we throw at them. Just look at what’s happened over the Franklin Mountains.” Von Bencher finally stopped when he ran out of breath. “The truly depressing part is we currently lack the resources to combat these new Death Dealers in the sky. Everyday we lose more and more pilots. Yes, we have the planes but no one to fly the damned things. Unless we turn clones into suicide pilots. As much as I wish we could implant the needed knowledge in those canistered clones we lack the needed programing to make it work.”

“How did this happen sir? Death Dealers have honor. They would not intentionally target downed pilots. As much as I hate to say this, they are better than that he-bitch we have flying for us.” Stone was doing his best to understand how they could have come to such dire straits. “There is no way they could be so blood thirsty.”

“YOU IGNORANT ASS!” Von Bencher screamed at the top of his lungs before reigning in his anger. “We left them with no choice. It was all my fault. Those four cities that we DESTROYED forced us into this situation.”

Von Bencher looked out towards the morning skies as he took a heavy drag off the cigar. “Stone, we started all of this on the orders of the High Council, yet we will finish it on our own. Order all of our divisions to commence combat withdrawal. Evacuation protocols are now in effect. Contact Admiral Klaus, pass the order for him to rally his battleships. He is to abandon the coastal roads and fortify the Spaceport. As for his Carriers he is to use them as to ensure the security of the Spaceports airspace at all costs. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir. What of the air regiments covering the retreat? Should I recall them as well?”

Von Bencher scratched his head and took another drag off his cigar. “Leave ‘em. They can at least buy our troops time to escape.”

Stone just looked at his Commander and nodded his head. He turned and walked away leaving Von Bencher to contemplate the fate of his command. He had been given his orders and now he would carry them out. He knew that the situation was now at desperation levels. Until now Stone had believed that they could still win. With the arrival of the Death Dealer Battle Group and its combat divisions, that hope was now dashed. The taste of defeat was already heavy in his mouth and heavy on his heart. It was the taste of ashes and blood.

In the skies over the Western front.
Major Robert ‘Scooby’ Heartlow banked his F1-5E Strike Eagle into a steep dive. This was his second sortie of the day. He and his wingman Captain Randal ‘Shaggy’ Cain had been running Combat Air Patrol missions for the third Combat Team. Over the last seven hours the enemy air support had been slacking off at a steady pace. To the point that the few enemy fighters they were now seeing were second string. Gone were the KV-81’s and IL-2 Sturmovik, in their place were CF-105 Arrows and CF-100 Canucks. While not normally front-line fighters they were not to be taken lightly. Either one of the two fighters could ruin your day in a hurry.

At seventy tons the two heavy fighters packed a massive punch. Both fighters were armed with twin, 40mm Gatlin cannons, a 70mm Harconain Cannon, 4 PCCs, and 8 PPLs as standard weapons. They were also capable of carrying up to 30 tons of external ordnance. Either in air-to-air missiles or ground attack bombs. They were excellent multirole fighter/bombers, and in the right hands deadly as hell.

As Scooby dropped towards the deck Shaggy was hot on his heels. Their target was just over the next ridgeline, the MCU for the APS and heavy tank battalion that was tying up the 3rd CT just outside of Broken Bend. A small town on the Big Catfish river, this was the second objective for the 3rd CT. As it stood, Hearlow and the other Eagle drivers would soon be forced to used external drop tanks to continue operations. They were already stretching the ‘legs’ of the Eagles to their limits. AS much as he wanted to undergo the upgrade to the new Second Gen Death Dealer Pilot package Colonel Andria Cole had turned him down. The reason for his rejection was one he hadn’t expected. He had a choice to make. If he underwent the upgrade he stood an extremely high chance of coming out Claymore.

The idea of waking up as a Claymore was not one that Heartlow was ready to face. Still the thoughts of having the reflexes that the new pilots had was tempting. He greatly admired Terresa Cole. The young woman had done more than any other pilot on New Texas for the war. He had been the one to put her in for the ICV after her actions against the Peacemakers. He wanted to put her in for the ICMH but had been informed that he couldn’t, due to regulations. Some bullshit about rank and command authority. It seems that while Terresa flew with his old Test Pilot Squadron she was never a member of his Squadron. She had been a TDY pilot only.

Heartlow’s thoughts were brought back to the here and now by his nav guide sounding his crossing over a way-point. Making a thirty-degree turn towards the Southeast. With a flick of a switch Heartlow changed his heads-up display from air-to-air to air-to-ground-attack. Keying his mike Heartlow contacted Cain.

“Starting my approach now, Shaggy. Over”

“Copy that Scooby. Keep your eye out flack and anti-air missiles. Over”

“Copy that Shaggy. I don’t feel like walking home. Start your run in five mikes. Come in on the ninety. How copy? Over”

“Five mikes before coming in on the ninety. Over”

With the plan of attack in place Heartlow pushes the throttles forward. With the increase in speed Heartlow drops even lower towards the ground. At just over twenty meters from the ground he rocketed over the rear-guard unit for the enemy command unit. Spotting the MCU and its support vehicles Heartlow drops his crosshairs on the heavy wheeled vehicle and pulled the trigger. Even as he pulls back hard on the stick to gain altitude two Mark four Hawkeye ground-attack missiles race towards the MCU. Even as the air-defense units turn to engage Heartlow, Cain came in hard and fast from the ninety-degree mark on the compass. Just as Heartlow had done, Cain targeted the MCU. Only instead of firing two missiles Cain fired four with only two striking the MCU. The other two destroyed the communications relay and radar control vehicles.

As Cain raced off towards the west, Heartlow looped over and targeted the command post a second time. As he dropped towards the ground targeted the other vehicles firing off his remaining six ground-attack missiles. Pulling out of the dive Heartlow rolled hard left and headed back towards WSRD. Not to be out done Cain had swung wide and came back in for one more attack. He was able to get off the remaining missiles before his luck ran out. He never saw the 25mm Gatlin ADA gun until it was too late. The depleted uranium slugs slammed into the portside of his aircraft. Stitching a line of holes starting at the nose going the full length of his Eagle. Three of those holes were in line with his cockpit. Keying his mike Cain called out to Heartlow.

“Scooby, I’ve been hit. Hit hard brother. Over”

Heartlow came back quickly. “How bad Shaggy? Over”

“I doubt that I’ll make it back to base, boss.” In his cockpit Cain started to cough blood. “They really tore me and Gracie up bad, boss man. Over”

Heartlow had by now swung round to fall in behind Cain. As he pulled along side his wingman from behind Heartlow got a good look at the damage. Smoke was starting to pour from the portside engine. The whole portside wing and tail rudder were punched full of holes. Heartlow knew that there was only one anti-air gun that could produce that amount of damage in such a short time. The fifty-ton armored track mounted 25mm Gatlin gun MR-72 Thor. The fact that Shaggy was still flying was testament to the survivability of the F1-5E. Heartlow could also tell that his wingman wasn’t going to make it back to base.

“Punch out Shaggy. I’ll radio in your position. Over”

The cough that came across the radio let Heartlow know that his suggestion wasn’t one that would be smart. “Sorry boss man. But it look’s like I’ll be riding Gracie in. I won’t survive the punch out. Do me a favor. Let Glinda know that she was one hell of a pilot, and I’m sorry for not making her promotion party. Over”

“Now you listen to me AIRMAN. You’re going to reach down and pull that gods be damned ejection lever. You do not have permission to FRACKING DIE ON ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND SHAGGY?” Heartlow was screaming at the top of his lungs towards the end.

Not that it was doing any good as Cain was rapidly losing blood. Captain Randal ‘Shaggy’ Cain shoved his visor up out of the way and looked out the canopy at his long-time wingman and boss. Saluting Heartlow one last time Cain pushed forward on the stick going into a steep dive. Cain knew they were over the forward edge for the line of battle. He spotted his target fired off the last of his missiles just as his portside engine gave up the ghost and exploded.

Two-hundred feet above him Heartlow watched in horror as his friend and wingman died the way he lived. Fast and furious, at the controls of a fighter doing Mach 3 with his ass on fire. Heartlow was pissed off and wanted to kill something. With twelve air-to-air missiles, a full load of autocannon rounds, not to mention the main guns Heartlow had more than enough firepower to put a hurting on the enemy ground troops. Pushing the nose of his fighter over into a dive Heartlow went hunting for Amazon ground units. It didn’t take him long to find them either. While his missiles weren’t designed for ground attack that didn’t mean they were useless. The pure kinetic energy of their impacts would damage or destroy most soft or light armored vehicles. Not to mention the explosive power of their unexpended fuel.

The target he wanted appeared on his HUD. Not the one he want the most, but it would do. A fast-moving light infantry battalion out in the open. Heartlow let his anger flow as he targeted the fleeing enemy battalion. With the cold-heart of a true predator of the skies Heartlow over road the autotargeting locks of his missiles and fired. The twelve missiles raced away from his fighter on suicide runs that would each take on Light Infantry Vehicle with them to hell. As he dropped into his strafing run Heartlow pulled the triggers for his autocannon and beam weapons. Even as the infantry tried their best to escape the burning vehicles Heartlow burned them down with his lasers. Turned them to ash with superheated plasma with his PPCs. Blew them to pieces with high explosive rounds from his autocannon. He rained down death and destruction on the lone unit.

Climbing out of the strafing run Heartlow checked the round count for his autocannon. He was shocked to realize he had burned through all but twenty-eight rounds. That was when he got a look at the heat buildup for his weapons. He was so far into the red zone that it would take him a good eight to ten minutes to bleed off enough to safely operate his weapons again. With a heavy hart Heartlow turned towards base. He had done his best to avenge the death of his friend and wingman.

Keying his mike Heartlow contacted the ATC back at White Sands. “Whisky Serra this is Scooby come in. Over”

“Do you have traffic for us Scooby? Over”

“Mission accomplished Whiskey Serra. Returning to base. Total destruction of enemy Mike, Charlie, Uniform. Total expender of all munitions. One loss, I’m coming home alone. Over” the report was as cold as it was clinical. For Heartlow it was just a fact of life that pilots die. The old saying that a pilot’s life revolves around two of the four classical elements was true. They live in the air and die by fire.

The air traffic controller back at White Sands understood the meaning of the message. Far better than most, REMF’s ATC’s knew the men and women who went on those missions. They also prayed for their returns. “Copy. Come left to heading two-nine-five and climb to four-zero-zero-zero. Hold for gas station link up Scooby. And sir. Shaggy was a damned good man. Out”

Heartlow had gotten to know each ATC operator by their voices over the last year of his duty at White Sands. The voice of the young woman sitting deep in the shadows of the ATC Center belonged to Staff Sergeant Lisa White. Heartlow knew that of all the ATCs she would take Shaggy’s death the hardest. The young woman truly cared for the pilots in her charge. Most especially Captain Randal Cain.

White Sands Planetary Command Post
Terresa had secured a GP medium tent to use as her squadron’s Headquarters CP. It also gave her a place to give her briefings for the up coming deep strike missions to her squadron. Case in point the raid on Huston Spaceport. Using three corkboards and printed maps of New Texas, Terresa went over all the intel that had been gathered. Their primary target was the cloning dropships.

The three Monolith class dropships would take a good deal of damage before succumbing to their attacks. They couldn’t use standard Hawk ground attack missiles for this attack either. No this was one time that Terresa would really go outside the box. The FB-11A2 may not have the carrying compacity of a heavy bomber, but they do have a wide range of weapons to choose from.

“Boss, I think we need to forget about the Hawks completely.” Major Robert ‘Spider’ Cocks said from where he stood. “There are thirty Mark two eight-hundred-pounder Bridge Killers over at the depot. I know that they’re freefall bombs and dumb as hell; but they’ll get the job done. They can punch through ten feet of reinforced concrete and have a blast radius of three-hundred feet.”

“Won’t work Spider. Even with those steel tipped heads they’ll lack the penetration power unless you drop them from forty plus. I say we use the new Rockeye canister bombs. They can be dropped from a lower altitude and are programable.” Captain Jerry ‘Rabbit’ White put in his opinion.

“I hate to tell you this Rabbit, but Spider might have the correct idea.” The third Captain held up his hand to stop his wingman. “The Rockeyes are good for area targets. We’re hitting point targets with hardened defensive armor. We need a bunker buster type of weapon.”

“Okay I can see that Smoke. What do we have in the inventory that can get the job done at low altitude?” Terresa asked of her section leaders.

“Um… to be honest ma’am. We just don’t know. We’re still learning about the new FB-11A2s. Chief Daily has pointed out that they are faster, have a better flight performance envelope, with a greater range, and atmospheric operational ceiling. Your guess is better than ours as to what the new birds can carry.” Major Cocks told her with a small smile. “I wish that Colonel McQueen was here to help.”

“You’re not the only one Cocks. Trust me on that. Frack, people I’m winging this shit. Major Cocks you should be the one running this squadron not me.” Terresa said bluntly. Only to have the other pilots start laughing.

“Colonel Cole, ma’am. You can stand there and protest all you want, but it won’t help. We all know better. You may be winging this shit, but we’ll still follow you. You just need a little more seasoning that is all. You’ve already proven that you can lead this band of nut jobs. The only reason I was wishing Colonel McQueen was here is that man can give you the specs on just about every damned missile or bomb in the inventory from memory.” Cocks cracked.

“Excuse me sirs, ma’am. But I think I found the answer to our problem.” The youngest member of Terresa’s squadron said with a smile. Terresa waved for the young Flight Lieutenant Second Class to speak up. “Our birds normally carry six ground attack missiles or gravity bombs. So they should be able to carry these.”

Terresa looked over the table screen that held the ordnance suggestion. “Okay Ratchet, how many of those bitches are we going to need per bird for the job?”

“That is where it gets a little iffy ma’am. I figure that with each bird carrying the normal mixed loadout of fourteen anti-air missiles the best we can hope for is two of these GPS guided bombs. After that the problem is the way we’re going to have to deliver the bombs.” There was a strained look in Ratchet’s eyes.

“Sir, have you ever heard about the tactic of dive bombing?” all of the gathered officers shook their heads no. Lieutenant Kindra ‘Ratchet’ Stone sighed as she was hoping she won’t have to explain the tactic. “It takes two things. The first is a high-performance aircraft that can handle a steep dive.”

“What is the second?” Terresa asked when Kindra stopped there.

“A pilot that is fracking half-crazy with balls the size of giant ape’s.”

“Well that is one requirement we have in spades around here.” Cracked Major Cocks which got most of the gathered officers chuckling. “Tell us these GSP guided bombs. What exactly are the specs for those beauties?”

“We currently have them stockpiled in five weight classes. Two, three, four, five, six, and seven-hundred pounders. Each is tipped by a triple hardened nose cone for deep penetration strikes on fortified bunkers. They used to be called ‘bunker busters’ until the Mark twenty-fours came out.” Kindra was interrupted the sounds of klaxon sounding three times in the distance.

Terresa looked over at her XO and commander for the two section of her Squadron. “Who has CAP Duty, Spider? Not what squadron, but which pilots?”

“Oh hell! We got both the six-twenty-eighth and four-oh-worst run CAP missions, Ma’am. They’ve been swapping the ground attack runs with air-to-air. No telling who’s going in hot, ma’am.” Cocks like the others knew what that triple blast meant. A heavily damaged fighter inbound requesting an emergency landing.

‘Terresa I have the information for you. It’s Major Heartlow. He’s coming in on a wing and a prayer.’ Lilly was silent for a second before giving the bad news. ‘Terresa, I think I better tell you before someone else does. Shaggy went in during their last mission. No chute. He never had the chance to bailout. I’m sorry.’

Terresa looked around the tent. Before calling out. “WRAITHS ATTENTION!” as one her squadron jumped to their feet. “BLUE SKIES! BLACK DEATH! FREEDOM’S PRICE!”

As one Terresa’s squadron picked up the time-honored salute to a pilot dying in the line of duty. A salute that has been given far too many times over the past month. “BLUE SKIES! BLACK DEATH! FREEDOM’S PRICE!”

“Who went in Colonel?” Major Cocks asked as he saw the first tear forming in Terresa’s eyes. He knew it had to be one of the old 628th R-n-D Squadron. Not bothering to ask permission Cocks walked over to the file cabinet that Terresa had stashed three bottles of moonshine. Pulling out two bottles and glasses Spider Cocks began to issue out shots of the moonshine to the Wraiths.

Terresa waited until every member of her squadron had a glass of the clear liquid. Raising her glass high. “Ladies and gentlemen. I give you one of the finest pilots I ever had the pleasure of flying with. Captain Randal ‘Shaggy’ Cain. May he fly with the Angels as he soars above us!”

As one the Wraiths downed the moonshine before shouting one more time. “BLUE SKIES! BLACK DEATH! FREEDOM’S PRICE!”

Terresa looked over at Major Cocks. “Spider you have the command. Find me a fracking pile driver. Screw the fracking scalps. As far as this mission goes there is no collateral damage. I want those dropships turned into scrap metal on the airfield. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

If the ice filled tone of her voice hadn’t gotten the message across, the golden crosshairs in her eyes did. Colonel Terresa Cole may have been his commanding officer for only a few days but Robert Cocks had already learned her danger signs. Not that he didn’t have plenty of advice from the Wild Cards Command Lance. The fact that his commanding officer was the love interest of the Crown Price had at first set him and the other commanding officers on edge. That was until Prince James broke out four bottles of real Earth Prime Kentucky Whiskey.

After that the two command staffs got along fabulously. The Wild Cards were able to fill the command staff in on most of their CO’s little quirks and what to look for when she was pissed off. They had heard about the golden crosshairs but had yet to see them. Having now had that pleasure Robert was going to find what she wanted. For some reason he feared the wrath of his petite CO more than the guns of the enemy right now. He along with the other members of the triple seven watched as she walked out of their CP. Only Kindra dared to ask where she was going.

“Lieutenant, just find us something that’ll turn those dropships into scrap. Let me worry about the CO. Right now, she needs to be left the frack alone.” Robert said with a grave look in his eyes. “I believe that she and Scooby are about to do one of two things. Neither of which the higher ups are going to approve.”

“What’s that sir?”

“They’ll either get pissing drunk. Which is what I hope they do. Or they’ll load up their fighters and go hunt River Sluts.” Robert walked to the tent’s opening. “And Lieutenant, for all of our sakes pray they get drunk.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if they when with the second option sir?”

“With as pissed off as she is right now, not to mention how Scooby must feel the answer is no, Kindra.” Robert looked back at her. “Take a real good piece of advice here Kindra. Never let emotions get in the way of combat. You do that, you end up dead. Emotions make you sloppy. You get sloppy, you make mistakes, and no matter how good you are, you make a mistake even a rookie can turn your ass into a bloody cloud in the sky. Thus, ends the lesson.”

With his lesson on combat over for the day Robert Cocks walked outside the tent. He too needed to find someone. He wasn’t about to let Captain Bill ‘Iceman’ Turner find out that his life-partner wasn’t coming home from some REMF. The two pilots may not have been open about their relationship with the higher ups, but everyone knew that Randal and Bill had decided that New Texas was their last assignment. They had made plans to buy a small piece of land on the Eastern continent when their hitch was up and settle down. Now, those plans would never happen.

Just south of the town of Nowhere, New Texas frontier.
Samantha Price lay just behind the low roadside shrubby. Using the high-powered spotters scope Sam scanned the incoming troop formation. Even at more than two kilometers the distinctive camouflage paint pattern stood out like a sore thumb. It was also one that Sam knew extremely well. Anyone who had served in the last Succession War would know this unit.

Keying the mike in her tactical helmet. “Black Star base this is Black Thorn One, Over. Come in Black Star base.”

“Black Thorn One, this is Black Star base. Over”

“Good news Base. We have been relieved. I repeat, we have been relieved base. Over” There was a smile in Samantha’s voice. For the first time in a month Samantha Price felt real relief at the sight of an armored convoy.

“Can you confirm your last transmission Black Thorn One? Did you say that we were relieved? Over.”

Sam wanted to scream at the base radio operator but knew that they were only following the SOP she had put in place. “That is a roger Black Star Base. We have friendlies inbound as I speak. Tell all units to stand down. We do not want to piss off our relief. How copy? Over”

There was a long pause before the radio operator answered Sam. “Black Thorn One. This is Black Star Base. Your orders have not changed. You are to engage any units on that road until confirmed by higher authority as being friendly. Over”

Samantha almost blew her top hearing that last transmission until she remembered who was most likely standing in the CP. “Base you can tell Richards and his rump ranger Cutter to frack off. This is one unit that we do not want to screw with. They will leave nothing but ashes in their wake. I repeat order all of our units to stand the frack down. Over”

Sam was not surprised one bit when the voice of Tom Richards came over the radio instead of the operator’s. She and the old man had, had more than one fight over who was running the combat operations for the local militia. “This is Six shooter One to all Black Thorn elements. Black Thorn One is relieved of command. Engage that incoming enemy force. Out!”

Sam knew that there were a few young men and women within the local militia that looked up to Tom Richards and would follow his orders. The rest had learned that Sam was the one that had the real combat leadership skills. Hoping to try and stop the bloodbath that would ensue by engaging the Death Dealer Unit marching towards them Samantha keyed her mike and opened a wide band broadcast. “Thorn Rider two-four to Black Devil six. Come in Black Devil six. Over”

Of all the Death Dealer units to be heading towards her small backwater town the 1st Special Service Force, or Black Devils, was one the last ones that Samantha wanted to be on the wrong side of. The Black Devils were not known for their forgiving nature in combat. If they were marching towards her now that meant their backup was less than a mile behind them. It also meant the fifth most feared Armor Power Suit unit was less than four kilometers away and bearing down on them.

There were five APS Units in the Empire that scare the holy shit out of any Infantry trooper on the battlefield. The first was the Royal Command Lance, better known as the Storm Chasers. The second most feared were members of the Royal Bodyguard, the Hounds of Hells, a Scout lance of the Hell Hounds. The third belonged to the Royal Bodyguards for the Queen of High Winds, Tatiana’s Bowmen. A Fire Support lance made up of A1-3R Archers. The fourth was the Command Lance belonging to the Crown Price, the Wild Cards. Yet it was the last unit that drove Samantha to such desperate measures as to broadcast on an open channel. The four medium APS lances for Alpha Company 1st of the 72nd Armored. Better known to the rest of the universe as the Devil’s Bastards. Their camouflage scheme was designed to enhance their myth.

“Come on. Someone fracking answer me.” Sam prayed as she opened the channel again. “Thone Rider two-four to Black Devil six come in. Over”

“Black Devil six to Thorn Rider two-four. Is that you Sergeant Major Price? Over”

Samantha Looked towards the skies. “Thank god they answered.” Keying her mike. “That’s a roger Black Devil six. Good to hear your voice. Over”

“Good to hear yours as well Thorn Rider. What is your position? Over”

“Four klicks to your front-line Black Devil. Hold your position until further contact. I got a FUBAR that needs to be straightened out. How copy? Over” Samantha knew that she couldn’t come right out and say what was really going on. Not over an open and unsecured net.

“Roger that Thorn Rider Two-four. Holding until further contact. Black Devil six. Out” the net went silent as the Commander for the Black Devils halted his unit.

Sam turned to Jimmy Kimble her radio operator. “You pass along to every last member of our force the following message. ANYONE and I do mean ANYONE that shoots at that Death Dealer unit. I will personally GUT THE FRACKING IDIOT WITH MY BARE HANDS! Am I understood Jimmy.”

“Yes ma’am. Understood. Load and clear Sheriff.” Jimmy Kimble like the others of the local militia had seen the Sheriff mad before. Yet he had never seen her like this. Not even when she caught him and Joey Preston running bootleg shine through the county five years ago.

Sam stood up and started to run towards town. As she moved across the fields surrounding Nowhere, Samantha Price deployed her bio-armor. Gone was the Town Sheriff. In her place was Sergeant Major Quick Silver Price. One of the meanest, toughest, bad assed, Cav Scout Snipers that had ever had the pleasure to serve in Queen Tatianna’s Children of the Stars. Quick Silver Price approached the town she moved in such a manner as to avoid being spotted by the outer perimeter guards. She knew that Tom Richards was finally making his play to be the next political leader of New Texas. By first removing the outsiders from the equation. That meant no Death Dealers could be seen as coming to the rescue of Nowhere.

It didn’t take her long to work her way around to the back of the Black Star Bar and Grill. With an ease born from long honed reflexes and training Sam slipped through a rear window. Once inside Sam didn’t bother with using nonlethal tactics. She killed the four men guarding the bar area of the building. Moving over to the store room Sam quickly freed Jerry McGregor, and Mary Beth Holland. Both of whom had been on duty in the CP. Better known as the basement of the Black Star Bar and Grill. She warned them to say nothing as she cut away their bonds.

Once Sam had freed her friends she pointed to the rear of the building and signaled for them to leave. Both Jerry and Mary Beth followed her silent orders. They knew that Samantha was about to deliver justice to two very stupid men. Once they were clear of the building Sam went to the basement door. Deploying her Close Quarters Combat blades Sam slipped down stairs with deadly intent. So quiet was her descent into the basement that none of the occupants noticed her arrival until it was too late. Sergeant Major Samantha Price lived up to her nickname of Quick Silver.

The three guards surrounding the stairs were dead before they could even draw a bead on her. Let alone react to her presence. With nothing more than a casual flick of her wrists Samantha flicked the blood from her blades as she turned on Tom Richards and Dale Cutter. Both men started to reach for the pistols at their hips when Sam’s PPL flashed once burning a hole just above them in the celling.

Snarling through gritted teeth Sam let them know just how pissed off she was. “I told you Richards when this all started not to cross me. I warned you that I would put a bullet in your fracking head if you tried. I told you that you could take all the credit in the world and I wouldn’t give a shit. You just had to stay out of my way. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to go and try once last time to make a name for yourself. Did you even know who you were about to take on?”

“Nothing more than a pack of yellow belly Yankee invaders. Just like we’ve been dealing with for the last month. Something you should understand if you were a real Texan. Instead of a sympathizing pointy eared, bootlicking, ass kissing, Imperialist Elf cunt. Should have hung your ass a month ago.” Dale Cutter spat out with pure hatred filling his eyes. “Don’t need your kind around here polluting the blood.”

Sam didn’t even think twice. Her katana cleared its scabbard with blinding speed as she crossed the room. Its blade flashed in the harsh light of the bare bulb of the basement’s only light. Dale Cutter dropped to the floor dead with his head rolling away towards the radio operator’s feet. Steve McEntire had to fight the need to throw up at the sight of his boss’s bloody head at his feet. Tom Richards couldn’t believe his eyes. In all of his years as a Cattleman he had never seen such unadulterated violence. The cold-blooded way with which Sam had killed his foreman sent a chill down his spine. When Jim Henshaw fired his pistol into her back Richards was sure that the woman would drop over dead.

Instead the bullets just flattened out against her bio-armor. Of the three men still in the basement none of them was armed with a weapon that could hurt the Death Dealer. The truly sad part was none of them realized it as Richards, Henshaw, and McEntire emptied their sidearms into the small woman’s back. Quick Silver Price let her katana do her talking for her. McEntire lost his arms at the elbows as Sam spun round and dropped her blade drop through the tender joints. Continuing her attack Sam swept her sword through Henshaw’s thighs. That one attack left both men with bloody stumps where limbs once were.

Standing up straight to face Richards, Sam pulled a small cloth form the belt that held her scabbards. With slow and deliberate movements Sam wiped the blood from the blade before returning it to its scabbard. “I told you Richards that I would put a bullet through your head if you tried to double cross me. I don’t want you to think that I’m not a woman of my word.”

Before Richards could grasp the meaning of her words Sam pulled and fired her sidearm. It was the same pistol she had been forced to use to keep the secret of this man’s private little army from the Amazons. Even as the spent shell bounced around on the floor Tom Richards brains were splatter over the wall behind him. Sam never took her eyes off the dead man as he dropped slowly to the floor of the basement. Slowly spreading his blood and brains even further down the wall. As Sam holstered the semiautomatic pistol she turned towards the stairs.

As she reached to the top the steps she was greeted by Jerry and Mary Beth. With them were seven men and five women all dressed in the uniform of a deputy. They were her deputies, and all were loyal to Sam to a fault. As one they snapped to attention. “Call for the meet wagon Mikey. The basement is full of body bag filling.”

“On it boss.” The senior deputy turned to the others. “Okay people. We got a crime scene to process. Lucius pictures. Cate measure and sketch. Danny find the coroner.”

Sam just chuckled as she walked away. Leave it to Mike O’daily to just go with the flow. Like all of her deputies the man just didn’t give a shit about her being a Wood Elf. To them she was their Sheriff and that was all that mattered. As Sam walked by the bar Jerry handed her an ice-cold beer with a smile. “Look’s like it’s time to turn things over to the pros Samantha.”

“You can say that again Jerry.” Taking a pull of the beer Sam turned to Mike. “Oh and Mikey. Send someone out in a cruiser to escort in our relief.”

“I’ll take care of that myself boss.” With that Mike ran outside to his cruiser. As he tore off down the road Sam sat back and proceeded to quietly get drunk. Jerry McGuire placed a fresh beer in front of Sam along with a box of Orion cigars.

“Looks like you get to finally stand down Quick Silver. The rest are on the House.” Jerry told her with a friendly smile. Mary Beth sat down beside her after giving Sam a tight hug and kiss on the cheek.

“The only question now is when are you going to finally settle down find a decent man and get married Sheriff Price?” the older woman gave Samantha a quirky smile. “After all, we can’t have our hero ending up in the old maid’s home.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 24
White Sands Flight line, Wraiths Operational area.
Terresa walked the line of twenty FB-11A2s. All but two were carrying a single weapon in the ground attack pods. When Terresa gave the order to find her something to kill the Amazon dropships wasn’t expecting Lieutenant Kindra ‘Ratchet’ Stone to come up with these. Hell, Terresa wanted to know where the woman got her hands on the weapons. As far as Terresa knew these weapons were a thing of legends. Not seen since the time of the first War of Succession. For there to be eighteen of them in storage here on New Texas just floored her. Chief Daily had spent the enter night rigging up a delivery harness for the weapons.

Terresa had asked for ship killers and Kindra had delivered. The Mark 48 aerial drop torpedo was the real deal. These babies were known for destroying whole dropships with a single strike. Two was an almost assured kill, three or more. Chalk up a ship kill for the unit. In two hours, they would be putting those numbers to the test. Her squadron had been given the task of destroying the dropships that held the Amazon clones. These were no ordinary dropships. These were three Monolith class dropships. Only the Ogre class was any bigger.

“They’ll get the job done Colonel. My boys and girls went over those babies with a fine-tooth comb. You pull the trigger and send them on their way. They hit and BOOM! No more Monolith dropship.” Chief Daily’s voice brought Terresa out of her dark thoughts.

“I hope like hell you’re right Chief. Because once those babies are dropped we don’t have nothing else that’ll get the job done. I barely have enough to ensure that we get the job now. It’s bad enough that we’re having to mount drop tanks on the Eagles to give them the range to cover our asses until after the bomb runs.” Terresa spat out as she looked over at what was left of the 628th and 401st squadrons. They had been combined into a single unit by orders from General Davenport following the loses of Shaggy, Little Red, Snow, and Prison Bitch. Until now the two units had enough members to keep their identities, that was no longer the case. They had lost the other three when they went hunting River Sluts, without orders, following the death of Shaggy. If it hadn’t been for Terresa getting Scooby drunk there was a good chance his name would be among the others.

“They’ll get the job done ma’am. What I would like to know is why aren’t the Navy blasting those ships from orbit?”

“Too high of a chance at collateral damage, Chief. Those massive Naval Guns can get the job done. Only one problem with orbital bombardment. What happens when something crashes down from orbit? Where does all that kinetic energy go? What does a fifty-pound titanium slug become on impact at supersonic speeds?” Terresa’s rapid fire questions had Chief Daily thinking hard and fast. “I’ll give you the answer Chief. BOOM! Big time boom. Like a nuke central boom only without the radiation fallout. All the destruction and none of the shitty stuff. We hit those ships with these torpedoes and the civilians get to live. Mission accomplished, and everybody gets to pat each other on the back for a job well done.”

“Damn, Colonel. you really have thought about this. I never thought about the threat to the civilians. All I saw was a way to save pilot lives.” Terresa had always known that Chief Daily cared for the pilots. She just had no idea that he would put the lives of civilians ahead of theirs. “I can see what you’re getting at though.”

“Trust me Chief, this isn’t all politics. It’s about trying to keep the collateral damage down to a bare minimum. I’m sure that there will be some shrapnel but nothing like what we would get from orbital bombardment.” Terresa looked at her bird for a few minutes before asking the one question that had been bugging her. “Okay Chief, why are Spider and me the only ones without Mark forty-eights?”

“Not enough to go around ma’am. As for why you and your wingman not carrying a forty-eight those are Spider’s orders. You two have been setup for escort duty only. Just like the Strike Eagles. Those orders came down from General Nakatoma himself, ma’am. He said something about giving you an honest shot at the Black Witch for revenge. Not that I’m going to stand in your way for getting that. She has too many Jolly Rogers for our boys.” Chief Daily gave Terresa a stone-cold look. “You get that bitch in your sights ma’am. Kill her frack ass.”

Terresa gave her Ground Crew and Maintenance Chief a look that said it all. “She dies today Chief. We know that the River Sluts have pulled all of the KV-81 units back to Huston Spaceport. She’ll either have to let us blow those Monoliths to kingdom come or come out and face us down. Either way she loses.”

Chief Daily smiled and handed her, her flight helmet. “Time to mount up Colonel.”

Terresa activated her bio-armor and stripped off her now useless flight suit. Quickly climbing the crew ladder Terresa dropped into the cockpit of her Claymore. As she strapped herself in Chief Daily hooked up her helmet. After settling her helmet Chief Daily dropped to the ground and removed the crew ladder. Performing one last walk around double checking that all ‘remove before flight’ flags had indeed been removed. Stepping around to the front of the aircraft Daily signaled for Terresa to start engines. Even as the two Pratt & Whitney R-4360-31 cyclone engines with duel thrusters slowly turned over Terresa felt the power of the chained demons that would propel her fighter through the skies.

With the sun first rays of sunlight painting the skies a bloody red the rumble of thirty-eight more such engines filled the earlier morning air. The heavy rumble of her squadron’s engines was joined by the growl of the twin turbines of the sixteen remaining Strike Eagles. I slowly eased Reaper’s Blade out of her bunker. Lilly came up on the internal speakers as soon as she linked up with the fighter’s AI. With the well-practiced timing of a seasoned pilot Terresa eased onto the hammerhead.

As they waited their turn in line for takeoff Lilly pointed out the upcoming problems with the mission. “Terresa, I think you should know that the other Wraiths are going to be extremely exposed out there. Those Mark forty-eights are going to really screw with their flight performance. Until they release them on target our squadron is going to have to flight straight and level.”

“Oh frack! Let’s just line up our people in a shooting gallery. And the only thing standing between their deaths and the target is me, Spider, and what’s left of the Strike Eagles. Talk about a no-win situation.” I bitched.

“It’s worse than that sister. I’ve run the odds for this little mission. Unless you can down fifteen KV-81s within the first twelve minutes the odds of success are nine-thousand-eight-hundred-eighty-six to one.”

As Lilly gave me the odds I knew that I had to even them out somehow. Then I had a very brilliant idea. I might not be able to kill that many in the air. But I can get that many on the ground. “Lilly, how much slower are the Claymores carrying the Mark Forty-eights to the Strike Eagles?”

“Maybe two to three-hundred knots over-all. Why?”

“That would give us about a ten-minute window between a strafing run on the port and the arrival of the others. If we time it right.”

“More like five minutes Terresa. It won’t be enough time to clear the field. Let alone even out the odds with a strafing run. Have you forgotten about the ADA.”

“Trust me Lilly I haven’t forgotten about the ADA. I’m actually planning on the ADA. For this to work their ADA radar needs to overwhelm their flight control radar. We get that to happen and the rest of the squadron can drop those torpedoes free and clear. We’re the cheese in this rat trap.” The icy cold need for revenge was crushed by Lilly’s response to Terresa’s idea.

“And we leave them undefended while the KV-81s swarm them. Terresa, your squadron is depending on you to provide them cover to deliver those torpedoes.”

“Damn. You’re right Lilly. I was just thinking out load. How long until we reach enemy airspace?” Terresa asked as the last of the Strike Eagles cleared the runway.

“After taking everything into account. We have a two-hour window until we see the first of the Amazon response.”

“Sounds about right. Add in another hour until we reach Huston Spaceport and you get six hours of nonstop shit storm. I guess we won’t be coming back from this one Lilly. If we don’t make it out, it’s been nice knowing you.” Terresa pushed the throttles forward and eased off the brakes. The fighter slowly started to roll down the runway quickly picking up speed. Soon the roar of the air rushing passed gave way to the first feelings of lift as the Claymore leaped for its natural element.

“It’s not over yet, sister. We still have a long way to go. Like the Prince is so fond of saying. Never tell me the odds.” Terresa just giggled at her AI’s very blunt usage of James’ favorite saying.

Emily Calisto’s privet quarters, Huston Spaceport
Emily stood looking out of the fourth-floor window to the hotel that had been secured for their use. Even though the runway was more than a quarter mile away Emily could still see the two squadrons of KV-81s clear as day. Well most of them. Two aircraft from each squadron was currently flying combat patrols over the Spaceport. Taking a slow sip of the brandy in her hand, Emily contemplated the sudden turn of events of the last few days.

All but two of their carriers now sat at the bottom of the New Gallous sea. Sent to the depths of that sea by attacks from just two of the Death Dealer Super Carriers. Admiral Klaus refused to listen to anyone and sent his battleships to attack the Shinigami battle platform. Eight battleships should have been more than a match for the beast. Only Klaus forgot those monsters never travel alone. The Amazon battleships never got past the Death Dealer battleships. The Hero Class battleships tore through the Amazon ships like they were made of paper. Emily could still hear the screams, in the common room, of the dying Captains for those ships.

All of Von Bencher’s plans were slowly torn to shreds by the Death Dealers and their relentless march to retake New Texas. Even now just seven days after their landing the Combat Division have retaken over eighty percent of the planet. Out of twenty-eight divisions and fourteen mercenary regiments the Amazon forces have been cut down to nine heavy divisions, three light divisions, and eight mercenary regiments. Despite everything she and the other pilots had done to slow the advance of the Death Dealers they just kept coming. More than anything those damned Strike Eagles were blasting their fighters out of the skies. That doesn’t even touch what those Claymores have done to their fighters and bombers.

Emily sighed as she looked down at the pitiful remaining number of fighters and bombers at her command. If only Von Bencher and Klaus had listened to her. She would still have more than enough squadrons to slow the advance of the Death Dealers. At least slow them down long enough for the Cloning ships to get off planet. That was nothing more than a hopeless dream now. Emily had already come to the conclusion that the Warrior Class of Amazons would die here on New Texas. The reports coming out of the home worlds pretty much confirmed this. Even as the combat divisions were spreading out across New Texas the Home Guards were dying to the last man as they faced off against ten full Battle Groups. That is one-hundred-and-eighty Combat Divisions not counting the support fleet. And unlike her commanders the High Lords and Ladies in charge of those Battle Groups had no problems with orbital bombardment. They sat in high orbit and destroyed every last cloning factory on the home worlds before ever touching down. Emily had warned Von Bencher that this would happen.

After that the combat divisions just touched down and spread out like wildfire. Nothing the Home Guards could do stopped their unrelenting charge. Suicide charges, booby traps, fortified trenches, hardened pillboxes, nothing worked. The Death Dealers were truly living up to the fearsome reputation they had earned over the last four-hundred plus years. The battle cry of Death is dealt by our hand was sounding across battlefields all through the Amazon Home Worlds. Much as it was here Amazon forces could do nothing to stop or turn the tide of battle.

Emily Calisto knew that her time was also running out. Just like the Warrior Class she too would soon face her death. She only hoped that it would be in the air facing that bitch Terresa Cole one last time. Emily knew that she won’t get away with getting in close and staying again. Terresa Cole was just too damn good to let that happen again. “I wonder what she will come at me with next time? Cole is just too damned smart and too damned good of a pilot to mot make the needed changes to her fighter.”

With a sigh Emily downed the last of the brandy in her glass then poured another glass full. Reaching over she picked up the pack of Empire Black cigarettes. She had recently started smoking to help with her nerves. As she stood there looking out at the runway smoking and drinking Emily let her thoughts return to the last encounter with the egomaniac Terresa Cole. By all rights Emily should never have survived that engagement. If it had not been for luck, and the sacrifice of her wingman, Emily knew that Terresa would have killed her. If she had not pulled that reverse Ingram roll and dropped to the deck she would have never escaped. The truly scary part was Emily had come to respect the woman. Emily no longer despised that Terresa was a Claymore. The woman had earned her respect as both a pilot and a warrior. Something Emily’s superiors couldn’t understand. How could she as the product of the finest bio-engineering minds in the universe respect a freak of nature. The very atheist of all that the Amazons hold true. Emily knew the truth of those beliefs now. That truth tasted as bitter ash in her mouth.

Even now those truths were being shown for the lies that they were. Here and on the Home Worlds. Even now the 19th APS Division was in a last stand battle to the death. Trying to hold back a single Death Dealer APS Regiment from breaking through on the coast road south of the spaceport. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette and a drink from the brandy Emily looked towards the horizon with longing.

“Where are you? Come on bitch. What’s taking you and your squadron so long to get here? I know you’re coming. Quit making me wait so long for our final dance.” Little did Emily Calisto know that her wish for Terresa Cole was just minutes from being fulfilled by that very deadly young woman. Hot on her pretty heels was two squadrons worth of combat blooded pilots, all seeking revenge. Revenge for dead friends and fellow pilots. Revenge for the four cities destroyed in a senseless attack to discredit the rebels. Today it was not two squadrons of aerospace fighters that would attack the Huston Spaceport. Today it was a horde of speed demons howling for the blood of their enemies come straight from Hell on wings of death and destruction.

Pirate jump point just inside of the second moon.
The blackness of space was split by the unseen edge from a sword of light. The unmistakable ripple of a jump gate opening lit up the dark side of the small moon. Through this rip in time and space slowly came the prow of a nightmare war machine. At one time there had only been six of these beats, then only one. That was no longer the situation. For every Battle Group there was one Shinigami battle platform but this one was especial even among their number. Only this God of Death carried the Royal House and Couple. The Royal crest proudly marked its bridge and prow. Ryuk and the Royal Battle Group had arrived in the New Confederate system without ceremony or fanfare. He had brought his Empress to the battlefront.

Slowly moving away from the moon Ryuk and his crew prepared for battle. If the Amazons were to try his weapons they would find nothing but their deaths. Admiral Marian White stood behind her command chair staring out the forward view screen. As the last of the battle group arrived Marian called out to her Tactical Officer. “Guns give me a full sweep and count.”

Answering to the ages old name for his position Lieutenant Markus Gray called back. “Everyone made it through ma’am. We have clear space. Nothing between us and the surface, Admiral. I would suggest that we warn the Katsumi though.”

The rich and cultured voice followed the chuckle that sounded in the bridge area. “I have already warned my baby sister to not fire on us Lieutenant. I have come to like this time that I serve in now.”

The bridge crews had become used to the ancient AI popping up like this from time to time. More than a few of them had become fast friends with Ryuk over the years. The crews of the Shinigami Battle Platforms often signed on for just one tour of duty only to request permanent assignments. Ryuk for his part often helped these young men and women who came aboard through the trials of youth. The ancient AI looked upon his crew as his students. Just as a Professor would in any college.

“Thank you, Ryuk. Have you informed the Empress of our arrival yet?” Marian asked into the air.

“The old goat let us know before we broke space norm Admiral.” Maiha said as she entered the bridge. Then with a causal wave of her hand. “At ease! As you were.”

Maiha’s simple orders had stopped the bridge from jumping to attention and allowed them all to continue with their duties. “Are we in time to prevent the River Rats from escaping their skinning ship Admiral?”

“I believe that our presences is going to be nothing more than a reinforcement of the obvious for the Amazons, Empress.” Marian said with a chuckle.

“Oh. Why do you say that?” Alice asked from her place next to Maiha.

“If I may be blunt, Princess Alison. The Twenty-second Battle Group has driven the Rats into a two-hundred mile stretch of land on the eastern coast of the western continent. In a matter of days, not weeks, they have done the impossible.”

“Any idea of how this came about Admiral?” Maiha asked.

“To be honest your Majesty, no. I can only place the sudden reversal of fortune for the Amazons at the feet of the pilots on New Texas. It seems that those pilots have not only kept the River Sluts at bay during the Siege of White Sands but once reinforced took the air and kept it. Outside of that I haven’t a clue.” Maiha was shocked by the Admiral’s blunt answer.

“Ryuk open a channel to Joker and the Wild Cards, please?” Maiha called out. A few second later the face of the Crown Prince appeared on the forwards view screen. Maiha could tell right away that he was in his White Tiger APS. “I see that you are out pounding on our friends Joker.”

“No more than what you would have done Wave Dancer. I’m merely carrying on the family tradition of pounding flat those that push.”

“I told you giving him that Suit was a bad idea.” Alice quipped from behind Maiha. “Where is the front-line trace Joker? We’re in need of current Intel.”

“Koneko Mistress you’ll have to get with Lady Saris for that. Sorry but right now I am a little busy trying to reign in an out of control and pissed off APS regiment.”

That got Maiha’s full attention. “What the hell is going on down there Joker? What do you mean an out of control and pissed off APS regiment?”

“We’ve been coming across towns and villages that are totally empty, Wave Dancer. We found out the reason this morning. The River Sluts have been clearing them out systematically. Before we just had to keep our troops from killing the Amazons that fought back. Now we’re fighting to keep them from killing the ones that surrender.”

Maiha wasn’t expecting to hear this. In fact no one was expecting to hear it. “Have you been able to figure out where those missing civilians are, Joker?”

“Shipped out in the holds of cargo class dropships to the Amazon Home Worlds.” James gave his mothers a look that said he didn’t want to say more over the open connection. Both women understood and nodded their heads. “Admiral, Transfer this conversation to our war room please.”

With that Maiha led Alice through the bridge to the war room at its rear. Once the door was locked and sealed Ryuk reopened the connection. “Okay James, we’re secure.”

“The Amazons were stripping this planet of the civilian population for raw cloning material mom. And from what I have been able to squeeze out of the two Army Group Commanders. They’ve been doing these on every planet they’ve taken over in the last thirty years. They move in and clear out the population replacing it with clones.”

“Thank you, James. You just filled in the one hole that I have been unable to.” Maiha sighed. Then turn back to the business at hand. “I take it that our ground troops have thrown the rule book out the damned window.”

“We threw that out a month ago mom. This has been one dirty, nasty, bloody, fight from day one. With no mercy given or taken by either side. Not that I blame the locals or our troops. The River Sluts brought this on themselves with questionable tactics from the get go. They’ve used band weapons left, right, and center. It’s like they don’t care, so long as they win.”

“That’s because for them it has been a winner take all from the start, James. They knew going in that this would bring down the full weight of the Impearl Military.” Alice quickly told her son.

“I know that mom. I just never expect to have to fight this type of war within our own boarders. Sure, I can see taking on the Cheese heads and Wingnuts in this type of war. Hell, I can even see going head-to-head like this with the Pinks of the Union. Not our own citizens.”

“I had hoped that you never would have to fight this type of war, James.” Maiha sadly told her oldest son. “We’ll be planet side shortly. I’ll take over for you once I’m on the ground.”

“No, you won’t mother. I’ve busted my ass to lead these troops through this war. I’m not about to turn it over to you or anyone else at this late date. These are MY Death Dealers and we have a score to fracking settle. Joker out.”

Before Alice or Maiha could say anything else the connection went dead. “I’m sorry, my Empress, but it seems that the Crown Prince has cut our connection. Shall I get him back?”

“Forget about it, Ryuk. James will do as he pleases for the moment. Not that I blame the man. He has earned his right to finish this war at the head of a RCT.” Maiha sighed and turned to walk out of the war room. “Come on love. We need to go wake up the girls. We have a date with Death on a battle field.”

“I don’t believe that we’ll be needed this time kitten. Did you not see the look in our son’s eyes?” Alice stopped Maiha in her tracks.

“What look are you talking about Alice?”

“He has the same look in his eyes that you get when you’re ready to kill. James has come into his heritage on this world.” Maiha looked at her wife of over thirty years and tried to understand what she was getting at but failed. Alice took mercy on Maiha. “He has stepped forward and picked up the mantle of the Man Called Death.”

Maiha had to grab the back of chair as Alice’s words hit home. Once again, there would be someone who walked the battlefields more feared than the Grim Reaper. Someone more hated than Thanatos. The man who would kill Death with his bare hands. Only this time he shall not be alone. Death will have a wife. One that wields a blade just as deadly as his own scythe. This time Death travels with Tisiphone, the Fury of vengeful destruction. The thought slammed into Maiha like a dropship on a combat burn for a hot LZ.

“You have only missed one thing love.” Maiha said with a smile. Then giggled at the look of confusion that spread across Alice’s face. “This new Death walks the battle with a wife. A winged Fury called Tisiphone.”

Ten minutes from the Huston Spaceport.
I leaned back in my seat and adjusted the harness one last time. I knew what my duty was this time. I’m still waiting for a response from the River Sluts to show. There’s no way in hell that they’re just going to let us fly in unmolested. They have to come up and play sooner or later. I know it, Scooby knows it, Spider knows it, and the squadron of F1-5E Strike Eagles knows it. I double check my systems to make sure that we’re not running a jamming program. By all rights their ground control radars should have picked us up twenty minutes ago. Something was off, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“DAMN IT! WHERE ARE THEY?” I pound my fist into the wall of my cockpit.

“Terresa, relax. They’ll be here shortly. They cannot just let us fly in without some kind of response. They will have to send up something to protect their dropships. They can’t rely on the ADA batteries of the dropships alone.”

“Yes, they can Lilly. Those Air Defense Artillery batteries can cut down whole Flights of super heavy bombers. Let alone blowing a few trifling fighters out of the skies. Once we get over the target area if we don’t have the Amazon fighters mixing it up with us we could very well get our asses handed to us.” I didn’t want to get into the fact that if we didn’t face those fighters going in we’ll be facing them on the way out. I know it was worthless but still scanned the skies.

“Well unless you want to send Emily Calisto a personal challenge I doubt you’ll get them to come out and die.” I had to do a double take at Lilly’s suggestion.

“Open a broad band broadcast Lilly.” I know it was crazy but I didn’t have much else. Like the old saying goes. When Lilly didn’t open the channel. “Lilly did you understand the command? I said open a”

“I heard you Terresa. I just don’t know if that is wise. Are you sure you want to do that? I mean just who the hell are you going to talk to?”

“You gave me the idea. You know exactly who I’m going to talk to. Open the channel. Now, Lilly.” This time I didn’t give her a choice. “That’s an order.”

“Um… Terresa I don’t need to channel four-eight-four is Emily Calisto broadcasting an all-out, no-holds barred, death match challenge for one Terresa Cole.”

I didn’t even think twice I punched in the channel and waited for the repeat. When it came I almost shit myself with glee. “Terresa Cole, this is Emily Calisto. I know that you’re up here. I have ordered my remaining squadron members to hold north of Huston. The skies over Huston belong to us, and only to us. Shall we dance? Over”

“Emily Calisto, this is Terresa Cole. I am more than willing to meet you in the skies over Huston Spaceport. I am sending my wingman with the escorting squadron to engage your squadron north of Huston. Is this acceptable? Over”

“What of the second squadron ten minutes out Cole? Will they join the others to the north? Over” I was surprise that Emily answered me directly.

“They have their own mission Calisto. I will not interfere with their orders. Over”

A few seconds later Emily responded. “Understood, Cole. This is between us. I will not interfere with their mission so long as they do not interfere with our fight. Agreed? Over”

I reached down and pushed the throttles to the stops even as I key my radio one last time for Calisto. “AGREED! Time for one of us to die bitch! Over”

“I couldn’t agree more. Bring it on slut! Out” the radio went dead after that and knew the fight was now on. I flipped back over the squadron frequency. “Eagle flight, Spider, head to three-five-five and engage hostile targets. Over”

“Where you going boss? Over” Spider asked me quickly.

“I going to kill an honored enemy, Spider. Cover Scooby’s ass for me brother. Over” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I stood as good a chance of dying as I did of living. Emily Calisto was no pushover, and neither was her fighter.

“Good hunting and come back to us Glinda. We need our Good Witch of the South. Spider, Out”

I just chuckled at Spider calling me Glinda over the air. Then started scanning the skies over Huston Spaceport for my only enemy. I knew that if Emily Calisto was drawing me in for a one-on-one fight the ADA and dropships won’t be getting on this fight. I also knew that if I could draw the fight out long enough my Wraiths could get in close and blast the Monoliths to kingdom come. “Come on bitch. Where are you? I know you’re here.”

The glint of the afternoon sun off the canopy of the KV-81 was all the warning that I got to her presences. I feel the smile slowly grace my lips as I turn into her nine o’clock. “Time to see who the real apex predator is, bitch.”

Emily Calisto’s private quarters. Thirty minutes earlier.
Emily was in the middle of smoking a fourth cigarette and starting on her third glass of brandy when the thirty-minute warning alert sounded through the base. Throwing the cigarette over the rail of her balcony Emily stood up downing the brandy. “Finally, they have come to me.”

Unlike the rest of her squadron Emily had taken to wearing nothing but her flight suit. Grabbing her helmet Emily was out the door to her rooms and headed for the elevator before any of the others even had on their suits. By the time Emily cleared the lobby the rest were just now leaving their rooms. By the time they reached the lobby Emily would have reached the Spaceport gates. By the time they reached the gates she would have reached the flight line and her KV-81 Sturmgewehr. Even as Emily was performing her walk around the rest of her squadron was just reaching the flight line. With her checks done Emily walked the line double checking her pilots and their aircraft. She was leaving nothing to chance. Not today.

Today she had a plan that would bring the Silver Eyed Witch to her. Today, Terresa Cole would die. Her plan would see to that. As she approached the last two aircraft in line Emily Calisto’s smile turned treacherous. The H6-8Hs Hammerheads were deep strike stealth fighters. They were prefect for what was to be done today. Emily looked at the two pilots and knew that they would die in the pursuit of their orders. AS much as she hated the Home Guard clones their loyalty was unflagging. “Do you understand your orders?”

“We do, Flight Leader Calisto. You are the cheese to lure in the rat while we are the cats. Terresa Cole will not survive our encounter again.” The first clone answered her with pure loathing for Terresa.

The slap to the clone’s face fast and hard. “DON’T get cocky, boy. That woman has killed over seventy pilots in this war. That we know of, we have no way of knowing how many she has actually killed. She is faster, than both of you put together. Her skills are only matched by mine. In her first engagement she killed fifteen of our pilots in less time than it took her to get a hard lock on a cup of coffee. Disrespect her at your own peril.”

Both pilots bowed deeply to Emily. The one who was slapped apologized. “Please forgive this unworthy one, Flight Leader. I had not realized just how deadly our foe truly is. Would it not be better to face her with more fighters?”

Emily sighed and fought to control her anger. Home Guards were capable fighters but lacked any true insight. “If I had more H6-8Hs Hammerheads I would use them. You two are the last of your kind on this planet. All your brothers have been shot down or blasted from the skies. Now, do as you’re told.”

Emily turned and walked away as the two clones bowed to her disappearing backside. “I just hope like hell those two worthless pieces of gene scum can get the drop on Cole. Because if they can’t then we’re all dead.”

Emily would never know just how prophetic her words would become as she returned to her aircraft. It may have been painted to match her beloved Marybelle, but it was not her Sturmgewehr. That aircraft had died at the hands of Terresa Cole. The only consolation she had in the loss of her Marybelle was the destruction of the Silver-eyed-Witch. Sadly, that had not been enough to stop Terresa Cole from completing her mission over the Franklin Mountain Passes.

With the two Hammerheads and her Sturmgewehr she should be able to finally kill that Silver Eyed bitch once and for all. There was only room in the skies of the universe for one Witch. Emily Calisto was here first. She is the Black Witch.

With the first of the enemy force just fifteen minutes out Emily had her squadron take off. After giving the order for the rest of the squadron to loiter north of the spaceport Emily double checks to ensure the Hammerheads are staying just above the spaceport flying nap of the earth. Once she was sure that the cats were where they were supposed to be Emily relaxed. The cheese was in the box, the rat was on her way, and the cats were set to pounce. All she needed to do now was to draw the rat into the trap alone. Opening up a broad band transmission channel she keyed the mike. With a silent prayer to the thankless gods Emily send out her challenge.

“Terresa Cole, this is Emily Calisto. I know that you’re up here. I have ordered my remaining squadron members to hold north of Huston. The skies over Huston belong to us. Shall we dance? Over” Emily waited for five minutes before repeated her challenge to Terresa. “Come on Cole. Answer me. I know that you’re out there.”

After the fifth time and close to giving up Emily was surprised to hear the voice of her enemy for the first time. “Emily Calisto, this is Terresa Cole. I am more than willing to meet you in the skies over Huston Spaceport. I am sending my wingman with the escorting squadron to engage your squadron north of Huston. Is this acceptable? Over”

“What of the second squadron ten minutes out Cole? Will they join the others to the north? Over” Emily had spotted the slower moving squadron on her radar. She had no desire to face down a full squadron with just three aircraft.

“They have their own mission Calisto. I will not interfere with their orders. Over”

Emily understood that the other squadron would not be turning away. But they won’t be interfering with their fight. “Understood, Cole. This is between us. I will not interfere with their mission so long as they do not interfere with our fight. Agreed? Over”

Emily was surprised by the venom in Cole’s voice as got her answer. “AGREED! Time for one of us to die bitch! Over”

“I couldn’t agree more. Bring it on slut! Out” Emily switched off the radio and started to scan the skies for the trademark silver and black twin-tailed devil of Terresa Cole. There was no way that woman would show up with anything else. When the purple and black twin-tailed devil appeared on the horizon Emily was confused. She became even more confused when the fighter drove on the two H6-8Hs Hammerheads. Then without warning the fighter opened fire on the two Hammerheads. “HOW THE HELL DID SHE KNOW THEY WERE THERE?”

Opening her radio again. Emily was greeted by a cackling laugh. “You really didn’t think I would fall for that did you Calisto?”

“How did you know, bitch? What gave them away?” Emily hissed between grinding teeth.

“I knew you just had to cheat bitch. Do you really think that I would come in here without a plan for dealing with your playmates? Get fracking real, bitch. This is between just you and me. Remember?”

Emily ground her teeth to the point her jaw popped. Terresa Cole was not acting the way a real pilot should. The woman had gone after the support fighters first. Emily was forced to watch in seething rage as first two then four heavy missiles streaked away from Terresa Cole’s fighter. Then to her horror the two Hammerheads were destroyed by the lethally aimed missiles. Emily could not believe her eyes as what was left of the two fighters rolled over slowly and ahead for the ground in a fiery wreckage. The pilots never knew what hit them. They were dead long before the wreckage that was their fighters ever hit the ground. Terresa Cole had once again shown Emily Calisto just how blood thirsty she truly was in combat.

“You have no honor Cole! There was no need to involve those patrol pilots in our feud.” Emily knew that the lie won’t fly but had to try. If nothing else than to cover her ass for history.

“Please, bitch. We both know those two Hammerheads were not on CAP duty. You sent them out here to ambush me. Sorry to disappoint, but I have no intention of dying today. I do hope that you have your affairs in order, Calisto. I have made my piece with my maker and placed my affairs in order. Because today one of us dies.”

Emily Calisto could not believe hear ears. Here was a woman that according to the spy reports had won the heart of the Crowned Prince. A woman that had everything to live for. Who wasn’t a conditioned clone like Emily. A woman who could truly give the gift of life to another human. A woman who had no hope of passing on her greatness through her genetic material other than natural birth. Terresa Cole could live a life of luxury, but was out here just to fight her in a one-on-one battle to the death. Emily Calisto felt something that she had never expected to feel.

Respect. True unadulterated respect for the woman known only to her as Terresa Cole. “Come oh hated Mistress. I have courted you long enough. If I must join you this day. Then let it be at the hands of this woman whom I have come to respect.”

Keying her mike one last time Emily Calisto called out to Terresa Cole. “Terresa Cole. For all the wrong I have done you. I apologize. Let’s us battle as equals?”

“Emily Calisto, I accept your apology. I too owe you an apology. As a boon I will let you know that the rest of my squadron have orders to destroy the Monolith dropships. They will be within rage of their weapons in five minutes.”

“I accept your apology Cole. AS for the rest of your squadron. That is their mission. They have no impact on our fight. I shall only use the information if I win.” Emily took a deep breath. “Shall we begin?”

“Let death come for the loser on swift wings.” The pause over the radio let Emily know that Terresa was climbing to her altitude. “Begin.”

The cockpit of the Grim Reaper’s Scythe
If it had not been for the glint off the cockpit canopy of the Hammerhead I would have been a sitting duck. The words of my trainers have been ringing in my ears from the first day of the war. Keep your head on the swivel. Never fly in a straight line in a combat zone. Turns and banks make you a harder target to track. Never get too cocky because there is always someone luckier than you are out there. But the one that has stood out in my mind the most was the most important. Sooner or later death comes for us all. Until now, I have been able to hold that cold hearted bitch at arm’s length. Even as I climb to reach Emily’s altitude I know that one of us will die today. It will all come down to a matter of luck, and who is quicker on the trigger. She has the advantage in armor, I have the advantage in firepower. I have the advantage in speed, she has the advantage in maneuverability.

This will be a knife fight in the skies. I let the specs for the KV-81 Sturmgewehr fill my mind one last time. I know that Emily hasn’t had time to modify her bird. So, this will all come down to luck. I take a deep breath key my mike. “Begin!”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 25
The skies over Huston Spaceport.
Terresa Cole let the smile reach her eyes as she came around to go head on with Emily Calisto. The two women had thrown all thoughts of the war out the window. The war had boiled down to just the two of them. They each had their own reasons for their fight to the death.

For Emily, this was a fight for her peoples’ way of life. She knew that as a whole the Warrior class would be stripped from the Amazon people but that didn’t mean they would be forgotten. This was her last chance at becoming part of legends.

For Terresa Cole the reason was far more simplistic. She was here for revenge. Her only goal in this fight was the death of Emily Calisto. She would pay with her life for all the men and women she had so coldly shot down and killed as they ejected from their doomed fighters. Gone was the professional fighter pilot that was once Terresa Cole. In her place was a winged Fury by the name of Tisiphone. Terresa was no avenging angle out for justice. She was there for vengeful destruction.

The two opponents met head on for a fly-by salute before climbing for the heavens. With each passing second Terresa felt her blood boil in anticipation of destroying her enemy. With each beat of her heart the adrenaline flowed like water in her veins. With each passing second her long held rage struggled to free itself. With every foot that flew beneath her wings Terresa’s blood lust grew.

With a hand that was barely under control Terresa reached forward and flipped a switch only used during routine maintenance. It was the switch that would disable her ejection pod. Terresa hadn’t joked when she said that only one of them was going home alive this day. For some strange reason Lilly who could have overridden the disabling switch left it alone.

“I take it that you’re of the same mind as I am, Lilly?” Terresa asked quietly.

“You made the choice to live or die, Terresa. I will always back your choices. I do wonder why though? After all there is no dishonor in living to fight another day. We can always come at her again. If we have to bailout.”

“Lilly, if we fail that bitch will kill the rest of the squadron. She knows far too much. We either kill her or she kills us. That is the only way to protect the Wraiths at this point. Besides, I don’t think I could live with myself if she got a chance at going after our brothers and sisters.”

“Understood, Terresa. This is our Alamo moment. Glory or Death!” the AI called out.

“Glory or Death, Lilly.” Terresa turned her undivided attention on the black KV-81. Even now, Emily Calisto was banking hard to port trying her best to get onto Terresa’s starboard side. Seeing this Terresa increased her flaps kicked hard on her rudder while pulling back on her stick. The sudden roll placed Terresa on Calisto’s portside rear at the eight o’clock low position. Squeezing the triggers for the twin Gatlin’s and gauss rifle Terresa sent a hail of armor smashing rounds towards the KV-81’s portside. Terresa wasn’t surprised when Calisto flipped hard over and avoided the attack.

At less than three-thousand meters Terresa knew that her missiles would be next to useless in this fight. Unless she could force Calisto to open the range she would be forced to rely on her main guns for the fight. With a wide range of direct fire weapons Terresa had a varied range of attack now. Thanks to the hard work of Chief Daily the Claymore no longer suffered the close-range problem. From point blank to one-thousand meters the Gatlin’s and gauss rifle were more than enough to down any fighter in the current inventory. One-thousand to three-thousand meters were covered by the PPCs and PPLs. Anything over three-thousand meters could be handled with missiles or the other weapons with the exception of the Gatlin’s. Not that it would matter as the real killers for anything beyond those ranges were the anti-aircraft missiles of the Claymore.

For the next five minutes the two antagonists cycled each other. Each trying to get into that all-important position to kill the other. Pulling in tighter and tighter to each other. Both knowing that to open the range between them meant instant death for the other. Each woman knowing that one simple mistake would be fatally their last. The skill of the two showed as each pushed the other to newer and higher extremes of combat endurance. The two women were showing the other the respect they had earned as the deadly rivals that they were. To those who could see their deadly fight in air it would become one of legend. Not for just one side either. They would be witness to a deadly ballet between two great warbirds. One of the purest black edged with the darkest of blood red. It’s opponent the color of deepest purple edge with the blackest of night.

Even from miles away the colors of the two aircraft alone would let a person know their deadly purpose. The occasional flash of weapons fire between the two just reinforced this perception. To the men and women on the ground the dance between the two warbirds became all consuming. Slowly at first the men and women who had been running for air raid shelters came to a stop in the streets. Soon the fight in the skies over Huston Spaceport became all consuming. Even as the two fighters slowly moved out away from the Spaceport no one on the ground realized the importance of this fight between them. Nor would they realize just how deadly the fight had become. The pure beauty of the fighters’ flight was all they saw.

The two women had become consumed by their fight, especially Emily. Emily Calisto had lost herself in trying to kill Terresa Cole. Gone was the professional military pilot. In her place was nothing more than purely emotional woman hell bent on killing her rival. This worked in Terresa Cole’s favor as she slowly drew Calisto away from the Spaceport out over the open ocean. Before Calisto realized it, they were miles out to sea and she was nowhere near position to support the defenders of the Spaceport. The fight between the two women had come down to who made the first mistake. That mistake would come but not from where one of them expected.

The death of the three Monolith class dropships would be herald by the sonic booms of three Mark 48 aerial drop torpedoes. Only Emily and Terresa were already too far away to hear those booms over the thunder of their own engines. It would be the flash of three simultaneous explosions and raising mushroom clouds that would announce the death of those ships.

“Sweet mother of the goddess! What the hell were they carrying?” Emily failed to realize that her mike was open and transmitting.

“Those where Mark forty-eight aerial drop torpedoes, Emily. Ship killers of the first order. Be thankful we were not over the top of them when they struck. If we had been. We would both be dead. Instead of it just being you.”

Emily’s momentary lapse in concentration allowed Terresa to finally gain enough distance between the two of them to use her missiles. With a double pull of the trigger two AIM 7 Sparrow anti-aircraft missiles leaped from their launch rails. Emily had mere second to react to the new and unexpected threat. Firing off chaff and flares Emily evaded the first two missiles by the skin of her teeth. Even as she evaded the first two Terresa was getting a lock for the next two missiles. Terresa heard the tone for a hard missile lock not once but twice and fired.

Once again two AIM-7 Sparrows leaped from their launch rails and screamed across the skies at super sonic speeds. Emily Calisto once again did her best to avoid the incoming deadly missiles. With the skill born of countless hours behind the stick of a KV-81 she was able to avoid the first missile. But like all things in life even Emily’s luck had finally run out. Terresa’s second AIM-7 slammed into her portside thruster exploding. The explosion sent heavy pieces of shrapnel through her number one engine. Effectively killing it and any chance that Emily had against Terresa. Emily slammed her hand down on the auto-ejection override.

“I’m not going down without a fight damn it!” Emily screamed into her mike.

“I never thought you would Emily. It has been an honor.” Terresa told the woman just before she fired two more AIM-7s.

Emily saw but knew that with only one engine running and the other smoking like a cheap cigar that she was dead. Popping flares and chaff once more in a vain attempt to throw off the super sonic providers of death. Emily knew that the situation was hopeless, but she had to try. She had given her all in this battle with Terresa Cole and wasn’t about to just give up. Emily knew that her luck had finally and truly run out went not one but both AIM-7s slammed home on her starboard side thruster. Terresa added insult to injury by firing the gauss rifle at almost maximum range. The twenty-pound slug smashed its way through the tail of the KV-81. That one impact finished the death of the heavy fighter.

Emily reached to slap the auto-ejection override one more time only to find that she was too late. As her fighter started to tumble from the impact of the gauss round her canopy blew itself clear. The ejection seat rockets fired slamming her down into the cushion with several g’s. The sudden, unexpected, and violent ejection hit Emily like a sledge hammer. As the air rushed passed her Emily’s last sight before blacking out was the death of her fighter one more time.

Terresa Cole sat back in her cockpit as she watched the solid black KV-81 Sturmgewehr almost come to a stop in midair. Terresa knew the fight was over the second that Emily let her get some range for the missiles. When the Sturmgewehr started to tumble from her gauss rifle hit Terresa knew the fight was well and truly over. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief that she had survived the one-on-one battle. She was even more surprised to see the ejection of Emily Calisto from the doomed fighter. For the briefest of moments Terresa was tempted to give into her blood lust. With her fingers stroking the trigger for the lasers Terresa contemplated killing the helpless Emily Calisto. Moving her fingers from the triggers for her weapons Terresa Cole showed both respect and mercy for enemy.

“Lilly get me a connection with Fleet Command. Those sorry assholes should have a carrier somewhere that can pick her up.” Terresa called out to her AI. Terresa quickly began working out the position for her downed rival. “Merry Christmas my friend. I hope you enjoy the stockade.”

“Terresa, I have the Ark Royal on channel three, love. Before I open it I just want to say that I’m proud of you.”

“Why?”

“Because you could have given into your blood lust and killed Emily Calisto in cold blood but didn’t. I was starting to worry about you there, sister.”

Terresa Cole started to laugh. It was not a normal laugh. It was the laugh of someone on the raged edge of hysteria. “Trust me, Lilly. You don’t know how hard it was for me to not pull the trigger one last time. Now, open that channel, please. I don’t Emily to have to spend too much time in that water.”

The radio crackled. “This is the Ark Royal, who is this? Over”

“Ark Royal this is Scorpion, Over” Terresa smiled as she gave her call sign. Knowing that the Air Boss would be demanding a better id shortly. Terresa was greatly surprised when instead of a challenge for id she was greeted with a welcome.

“Good to hear from you Glenda. I take you have need of support?”

“What the hell? How the hell did they hear about that name? What the frack is going on here?” Terresa asked of no one before keying her mike. “Ark Royal, don’t you want to at least go through the challenge and password? Over”

“Sorry to disappoint you Scorpion, but nobody in their right minds for twelve parsecs is going to lay claim to your call sign. Other than you. Over” the was a laughing tone in the Air Boss’s voice.

Terresa just laughed as she keyed her mike. “Copy that Air Boss. Are you in position to provide recuse operations for a downed pilot? Over”

“Give me the location Scorpion. Over”

“Twelve miles due east of Huston Spaceport. Grid nine-nine-three by two-seven-six. How copy? Over”

“Good copy Scorpion. We’ll have to pass that off to Akagi or Hiryu. They should be coming down right on top of that grid shortly. In fact, you should be able to see their contrails now. Over” The Air Boss’s reference to two of the four Super Carriers that escorted the Royal Battle platform made Terresa look to the heavens. Not in wonder but fear. If they were here, then so was Ryuk and the Royal Couple.

“Oh shit! NOT GOOD. Why didn’t I let Emily blow my ass out of the sky?” Terresa to the empty air of her cockpit.

“Because you just love pain and punishment. If I didn’t know better, I would swear you were into S-n-M Terresa.” Lilly said pocking fun at her host.

“Oh shut up you. Let me finish dealing with the Air Boss.” Terresa keyed her mike. “Ark Royal when you pass on the information for the rescue please inform whoever’s in charge that this is a hold until further notice. No contact with other prisoners. Over”

“Copy that Scorpion. High priority prisoner. Will pass on the info. Is that all? Over”

“That is all Ark Royal. Scorpion Out.” Terresa slowly circled down to pass over where Emily Calisto landed in the water. She was strangely happy to see the woman climbing an inflatable one-man raft. “At least she’s alive. It would have been a real pity for her to have died for nothing.”

“I thought that you wanted her dead Terresa?”

“Lilly, of all the pilots that I have fought in this war I never wanted to kill any of them. I know that in war death is part of the deal. But if you look back at the eighty-seven aircraft that I have shot down. I never shoot at a single pilot after they ejected. If they were still in their fighter that was something else. I never killed a pilot in free fall on the chute.” Terresa argued quickly.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Terresa. You never gave up that part of your moral code.”

“Lilly, I have fought like hell to keep from becoming the monster that other Death Dealers fear. I will never let that happen.” Terresa chuckled. “After all, you were the one to point out that we’re still human.”

For several minutes the AI remained silent as Terresa circled the downed pilot. When the rescue birds broke over the horizon Terresa turned her aircraft towards the Spaceport and the battle that still raged there. “Time to get back to work.”

“Indeed, it is Terresa. Both squadrons have completed their missions. The Monolith dropships are destroyed and so is the Spaceport. All that remains is the destruction of the remaining aircraft.”

Terresa shoved the throttles of her Claymore to the stops and let the twin demons, that were the engines of the Claymore, howl with rage. Terresa knew that by the time she got there the fight would be over. Yet it was still her duty to ensure as many of her people made it home.

In the one-man survival raft of Emily Calisto
Emily woke to the splash of water hitting her face. She had no idea of where she was at first, but then trained reflexes kicked in. With sure hands Emily hit the quick releases for her parachute. Next came the life vest auto inflate. Once she was above water Emily searched her vest for the inflatable one-man survival raft. Once she found it Emily held it out at arm’s length and pulled the cord. As the raft inflated Emily held tightly to the pullcord.

With the raft inflated she struggled to climb into the flimsy thing that would be her only chance at long term survival. Once inside Emily noticed that her prosthetic leg would have to be replaced. With a sigh she flapped back against the side and looked up at the sky. She could clearly see the contrails of where she and Terresa had fought for their very lives. “Damn. I lost. Then again, I never really had a chance against that woman. She’s just too fracking good.”

Emily was drawn out of her sudden depression by the sounds of Terresa’s fighter flying overhead slow and steady. Raising her right arm Emily waved to let Terresa know that she was alright. The wag of Terresa’s wings let Emily know that she wouldn’t be dying this day. Once past Terresa climbed for altitude. Making a hard one-eighty turn the purple and black suddenly rocketed off towards the west as if kicked in the ass by a pissed off giant. Emily marveled at the display of speed.

“MY GOD! If her fighter has that kind of power at its disposal. It’s a fracking miracle that I was even able to last for as long as I did against her. She could have blasted me out of the skies in seconds. Yet Terresa Cole showed me enough respect to battle me as an equal. Gods how I wronged the woman.” Reaching into her survival vest once more Emily pulled out her emergency beacon. Placing the beacon at her feet Emily hit the activation switch that would send out a constant radio broadcast of her position. “Might as well get the inevitable over with. I’m sure that Von Bencher is just going to send me to the recyclers after this FUBAR.”

With that done Emily just leaned back and waited for the arrival of the recovery team. “If they even come. The High Command isn’t known for rescuing pilots that fail to do their duty. Hell, I doubt that the base even has the helos or shuttles to spare right now for rescue operations. If I understand Terresa, which I’m pretty sure that I do, that second squadron was there to destroy Hutson Spaceport. From the way those Monoliths went up. It’s a sure thing they succeeded.”

The sight of three hundred heavy contrails appearing on the horizon drew Emily’s undivided attention. There was one though that stood out among all the others due to its sheer size. It had to be five miles wide if not more. That one contrail could only mean one thing. A Shinigami battle platform was making planet fall. The ten slightly smaller contrails on either side had to be the battleships and super carriers of the battle group. The thought that there was now two Death Dealer Battle Groups on new Texas sent a chill down Emily’s spine.

“You wanted the attention of the Empress, Von Bencher. Well, it look’s like you got it and in spades. You won’t be dealing with just eighteen combat divisions shortly. You get to face down fifty-four divisions.” Emily rummaged in her vest pockets to find the plastic case that held her cigarettes and liter. Once she found the waterproof case and lit up a cigarette Emily used the binoculars that were part of her survival kit. With the practiced eye of a season pilot Emily spotted the bold shield and crest on the battle platform first. “Well, shit fire and save the matches. Death’s own Daughter has decided to come out and play. I hope your affairs are in order Von Bencher. Because your time is short.”

Emily Calisto let a small smile come to her face as she finally pulled off her helmet. With a look of disgust, she tossed the vile thing into the water. “Good ridance to worthless rubbish. At least this time I stand a good chance of being captured by the Empire. I just might survive this fool’s folly after all. At least as a POW I’ll get decent medical care for a change. Not to mention a hot meal for once. Three and half weeks of field rats can only go so far. I just wish I’d filled my canteen with the rest of that brandy. I sure could use a stiff drink about now.”

The sounds of heavy thrusters caught Emily’s attention and drew her eyes to the southeast. She knew that the Amazons didn’t have any carriers in that direction. In fact, the only carriers they had left were far to the north. Those thrusters belong to a HD-FXDWG and only the Empire used those bad boys. Sure, enough the heavy rescue shuttle lowered into the sea less than fifty meters away dropping its rear hatch. The rescue team lowered a speed boat with a diver and driver. The rescue team quickly reached Emily and pulled her into their boat. With a smile the two-man crew raced back to the heavy rescue shuttle and straight up the lowered ramp. Once inside the ramp was raised and the shuttle lifted out of the water.

A medic helped Emily out of the launch and over to a stretcher. “Welcome aboard Flight Leader Calisto. I take it that your stay in the water was not one of your choosing.”

“You could say that Corman. You’re medical Corman correct?” Emily asked hesitantly.

“First Class Medical Corman Roger Young at your service Flight Leader. Why don’t I take a look at that leg of yours?” the Naval crewman said with a smile as he slipped his scissors under the cuff of her left pants leg. Emily watched in fascination at the professionalism of this young man. The way they were treating her was totally opposite of what the political officers told her. There was no cold ruthless uncaring scientific approach to her injury. Just one human caring for another.

“I don’t feel any pain Corman. That leg is a prosthetic limb. No need to hurry.” Emily tried to play off the fact that she wasn’t a whole person.

The Corman gave her a flat look. “I’ll be the one to decide that ma’am. Not you. I don’t care if it is a cyber replacement. These damned things can still cause you problems if not taken care of straight away. I’ve treated one too many dumbasses who thought their cyber replacements were just a piece of interchangeable hardware. Every time meant months of therapy in the rehab clinic. Now shut up and let me do my job. You got a bitch with the way I do my job. Fill a ten-seventy-eight with the Ships Surgeon. That’s Commander Benjamin Pierce be sure to tell I sent you.”

Emily couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh at the arrogance of the young man. No one had ever dared to talk to her in this manner that wasn’t of a high class. Yet here was an enlisted member of the Empire’s Navy giving her more than enough attitude to make any High-Class clone burst into a blind rage. Emily’s laughter though was cut off by a sudden screech of pain.

“Damn. Just as I thought.” Young called out to the copilot. “Skitter, we need emergency medical on the flight deck. Pass the word that to the Doc he’s got a class four replacement to do STAT.”

“Got ya, Casper. Anything else the Doc needs to know before hand?”

“Just that the old leg is a Hitachi nine-fifteen and from the looks of it long over due to be replaced. Multiple jury rigs and back patches.” Roger looked up at Emily. “Where was this leg obtained Flight Leader Calisto?”

“No idea. Only that it was provided for me seven years ago.” Emily was honest.

“That explains everything. These things haven’t been in production for at least the last five years. It must be getting hard to find parts for replacements and repairs.” Roger said.

The copilot called out. “Five minutes to touch down. Strap in.”

Emily sighed and leaned back. Her time on the front was over. She was finally able to see a chance at living to the end of the war. “Terresa Cole, you better make it out of this shit storm in one piece. I owe you a drink.”

A hundred miles south of Huston Spaceport.
James moved his White Tiger behind a four-story building. He needed to find cover to contact Command. For the past seven days he had been leading the 1st Regimental Combat Team for the 82nd Division. For those seven days he had been fighting to keep his RCT under control. James had been mostly successful in keeping the RCT from out running their support units and supply lines. Now he had problem that none of the other commanders could help with. One that he needed air support for, badly.

“Joker to Red six, come in Red six. Over”

The voice of Brigadier General McManus came over the radio immediately. “Red six here, Joker. What do need? Over”

“Six, we’re pinned down on the costal road hundred miles south of Huston. Requesting air support. Expedite that. Over” James and his whole unit had come under attack by a small group of IL-2 Shturmoviks and they were tearing up his light to medium armor units. He need those fighters taken out now.

“Hold what you got Joker. Bunker down. I’ll get you what I can. Hold in there boy. Red six out.” James want to scream but knew that it would do no good. The air assets for the 22nd Battle Group were stretched thin as icing on a cheap cake.

Keying his mike, he contact his unit commanders. “Joker to all Ghost Rider units. Hunker down where you are and hold people. WE got help coming. Make the River Sluts pay for every inch of ground they try to take. Joker Out.”

He knew that his command wasn’t going to be well received but these were Death Dealers. They would follow orders. They may not like them, but they will carry them out. He had proven himself to be a caring commander and they knew he wouldn’t waste their lives in a senseless fight to the death. Only his closest friends of the Command Lance would ever know how hard that order would haunt him.

To drive the point home James stepped out from behind the building to hammer a J-9 Jagger with everything his White Tigger had at point blank range. The T-92 Longbow that accompanied the Jagger joined it in death. James had once again lost himself to the blood lust that cursed his family. Just as his mother Maiha once rampaged across the battlefield while talking to Death James did so now. “Looks like I get to meet you a little sooner that I expected old man.”

A voice that only he heard answered James with a chuckle. “No. I doubt that very seriously grandson. Even now your Fury of a wife is winging her way to your rescue.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Death? I’m not married yet. And what is this crap about there being a Fury winging her way to my rescue?”

“Why I speak of the young lady that has captured your heart boy. That is the Fury I speak of. The Fury Tisiphone. The Fury of vengeful destruction. Look to the skies boy. Use those eyes of yours and behold the wrath of a pissed off woman.”

James did as the voice commanded and could not believe his eyes. The unmistakable out line of a FB-11 was streaking towards the fight. The purple and black paint scheme let James know that this fighter was one of the Wraiths. The triple sevens or Lucky Fools. There was his saving grace from the enemy ground attack fighters. It was not alone. Nineteen more FB-11s were hot on its heels. The full squadron was here and soon this battle would be over. The crackle of his radio drew James back to this moment in time away from his discussion with Death.

The voice that greeted him was one he had come to love. “Need a hand, Joker? A little birdy told me you could use some top cover over there, Joker. Over”

“More the merrier Scorpion. We got IL-2s strafing our lines and targeting the lighter armor. Would you be so kind as to change their minds please? Over”

“With pleasure Joker. With great pleasure. Out”

James lined up his sights on a K-9 Bloodhound heavy tank that had dared to show itself. The twin beams of man made lighting from his PPCs made short work of the tank’s armor. The explosion ripped the turret off. Keying his mike, James called out to his command. “We got ourselves some air cover, boys and girls. Time to sweep out the trash and head for Huston.”

In the skies above the 1st/82nd RCT
Terresa was joined by her squadron as they made their way towards home when the call came from General McManus. “This is Red six to any unit near Huston Spaceport. Come in. Over”

“Red six this is Scorpion. Over” Terresa knew that for General McManus to be calling for an all hands response that the situation was bad.

“It’s good to hear your voice Scorpion. I take it that the Black Witch is no longer a problem. Over”

“That is a big fat roger, Red six. She should be a guest of the nearest carrier about now. You got something for us before we head home? Over” the pride of success filled Terresa’s voice. Not just in her success but her squadron’s as well.

“Come to heading one-eight-nine. Ground forces in need of air support. This is an expedite mission Scorpion. Over”

“One-eight-nine, air support mission, expedite. We currently lack any ground attack ordnance six. All we’ll be able to give is strafe attacks. Over” Terresa felt that she needed to give McManus a status report before heading in.

“Understood Scorpion. This is a flyswatter mission. It seems that your fiancé has a problem with a swarm of IL-2. Over”

Terresa would have crawled into a hole if could just then. It was bad enough that people were already talking about her and James as a couple. That had been going on for the last two months and she was used to it. But now people were speculating on when they would be tying the knot. James hadn’t even proposed to her yet. Not that Terresa wouldn’t say yes but would at least like for the man to have asked first. Then again, Terresa doubted that would ever happen. James was the Crowned Prince for the Empire. His mothers would have someone else picked out for him. Someone from one of the High Families no doubt. Terresa may be newly come to womanhood but she had embraced it with her whole being.

For now, she would just do her duty and put a few IL-2s in the scrap yard. “Copy that, six. One mean pissed off flyswatter on the way. Out” After accepting the order from McManus Terresa switched over to her squadron frequency. “Wraiths we got a short detour before heading home. It seems that a group of ground pounders have a problem. IL-2s are swarming their position. Any one not up to mission speak now. I do not want anyone not at full combat readiness. Over”

All Terresa got back in response was a round of positive answers. “Okay people this is how we’re going to play this. Spider take Bravo flight and handle the far-right flank of the RCT. Rabbit you and Charlie flight have the far-left flank. Smoke, you, Alpha, and Delta flights are with me. We got the center. How copy? Over”

Spider answered first. “Good copy, Glinda. Pulling off now with Bravo flight. Good hunting. Spider Out”

“Breaking away now, Glinda. Good hunting. Rabbit out.”

“We’re on your six, Boss. I mark seven IL-2s and eight IL-4s. Over” Terresa wanted to smile at how fast Smoke spotted the threats.

“Good eye, Smoke. Let’s show them the error of their ways. Over” Terresa cracked.

“Sounds good to us, boss. Over” Ratchet called out over the radio.

“All right Wraiths. Mark your targets. And engage. Tally-ho!” Terresa put her Claymore into a steep dive that would bring her in on the six o’clock high position of an IL-2. At a little more than five-thousand meters Terresa heard the tone for a hard target lock by her missiles. Terresa didn’t hesitate for one second. She pulled the trigger twice, sending two AIM-7s rocketing down their rails. Seconds later the IL-2 disappeared in a rolling ball of flames and twisted wreckage.

Terresa did a fast count of her missiles and frowned. Out of twenty-four missiles She was down to two AIM-7s. The rest of her missiles were the older Mavericks and Sidewinder Rattlesnakes. With just fourteen missiles left with only two of those being sure fire killers. Terresa was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. Terresa had been so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed the second IL-2 that passed under her sights. As her sights flashed from green to red Terresa pulled the triggers for the Gatlin guns and gauss rifle. The IL-2 pulled up hard and banked left to try to escape Terresa’s weapons.

Even as the IL-2 maneuvered to escape Terresa pulled the trigger for her PPCs and PPLs. The four PPCs slammed into the IL-2 just aft of the cockpit to burn away the armor over the tail. In mere micro seconds the control linkages for the tail ruder were exposed to the blinding heat of the PPLs. The massive energy and heat of the ten PPLs burned their way through what was left of the tail. With its tail gone the IL-2 tumbled uncontrollably end over end. Terresa knew that the pilot was a dead man. Even before the doomed fighter fell out of the skies Terresa was already hunting for another target. She knew the time to find one was right after her last kill. Only Terresa’s next target wasn’t an airborne one.

Terresa keyed her mike and screamed over the radio. “JOKER! Four Assault Class APSs five-hundred meters due north of your position. Over” When she didn’t get any reply Terresa did the only thing she could. She flipped her targeting radar over to ground acquisition and targeted the four APS monsters. Dropping to just above the rooftops Terresa pushed her skills to the limit. She came in parallel to the frontline battle trace. Her targeting radar started to list her targets. The first up was a ninety-ton Thor. This was followed by another ninety-tonner an Atlas. The next APS was a true monster and one of the rarest. A one-hundred-ton Zeus. Yet despite these four monsters of the battlefield the last one was Terresa’s primary target. At ninety-five-tons the Mars wasn’t the heaviest, but it held the heaviest punch. The Mars lived up to its namesake as a god of war.

With their positions marked Terresa let Lilly run the target solutions for each one. When Lilly had them displayed on the HUD Terresa started her attack run. She was surprised when all six Mavericks leaped from their rails to speed over the battlefield towards the Mars. As she closed with the Thor the gauss rifle barked seven times in rapid succession. The seven twenty-pound titanium slugs slammed into the Thor at over Mach 2.5. The Thor’s chest armor was crashed along with its power plant. As the massive war machine was falling over face first the Claymore’s four PPCs sent ropes of man made lightning into the head and chest of the Atlas. The strange thing about hyper accelerated particles when they are fired in a controlled manner. The further they travel the faster they travel the faster they travel the more heat and kinetic energy they build. When they finally come to a stop all that heat, and energy has to go somewhere. The pilot for the Atlas died before he knew what hit his APS.

As Terresa crossed over the Atlas’ position the six Mavericks slammed home on the chest and head of the Mars. While the Mavericks were designed to be an air-to-air missile it could be used in a ground attack role. The pilot of the Mars was so take by surprise by the missile strike he turned into the attack. As the last Maverick hit home not even Terresa and Lilly could have calculated the odds of where it would hit. The last thing the pilot for the Mars saw was the Maverick slamming into his cockpit just before detonation. The man never knew that the end of his life was at hand and brought upon him by the Fury Tisiphone.

Only the Zeus remined as she continued on her strafing run. Terresa pulled hard on the triggers for her main guns. The gauss rifle, PPCs, and PPLs fired as one. To add insult to injury Terresa let the Gatlin guns spin up and fire besides their big brother. While not as destructive as the gauss rifle they still packed a punch. Much like a swarm of bees the much smaller rounds slammed into the cockpit of the Zeus. Like that swarm of bees attacking a bear the Gatlin guns would not be denied their rightful due on the battlefield.

The death of the Zeus marked a turn in the battle for the Death Dealer RCT. Even as Terresa continued down the line for the Amazon forces firing at whatever presented itself the battle was over. The Amazon defenders started to brake ranks as their air support was blown out of the skies over their very heads. When they saw their four heaviest APSs destroyed by just one fighter. Their already fragile wills snap under the pressure like twigs in fall.

Terresa pulled up out of her strafing run she double checked her airspace. Terresa was shocked to find that her squadron owned the skies. Keying her mike Terresa called out for a report. “All elements report in. Ammo count and kills. Over”

As each member of her squadron contacted her Terresa kept a tally of kills. When she added in her two air victories and four APS kills Terresa needed Lilly to double check her figures. “Lilly is that count correct?”

“Terresa, I have the individual AI accounts to verify those numbers. They are correct. The Wraiths have just wiped out a full squadron of IL-2s and half a squadron of IL-4s. Plus destroyed a full battalion’s worth of APSs and armored vehicles. All in a matter of ten minutes. Only one other time has such a one side victory been claimed in all of human history. Your Wraiths have truly earned their name on this day.”

The crackle of her radio followed by her call sign drew Terresa out of her stunned silence. “Scorpion come in Scorpion. Joker here. Over”

“Scorpion here Joker. Sorry, for the delay. Over” Terresa answered quickly.

“Good to hear from you Scorpion. We were a little afraid that we lost our Glinda. Thanks for clearing the skies and nailing those BFGs. Over”

Terresa was at a loss for the last reference. “You’re welcome Joker. Can you tell me what a Bravo Fox Gulf is? Over”

There was a chuckle just before James came back up on the radio. “That is grunt for Big Fracking Guys. What we call Assault Class APS units. Over”

Terresa was happy as hell that no one could see her just then as she blushed clear down to the edge of her bio-armor. “Copy that Joker. As much as we wish we could stay on site longer we’re going to have to leave you for now. My squadron is running short on go-go juice. As it is we’re going to need a gas station link up to make it home. Over”

“Wraith flight this is Akagi flight control. Over” the interruption by the Air Boss for the Super Carrier Akagi caught Terresa by surprise. “Come in Wraith flight.”

“Wraith flight here Akagi.” Terresa didn’t know what was going on but protocol require her to answer. “Authenticate, Thunder Struck. Over”

As few seconds later, the voice came back. “I authenticate, Back in Black. Over”

“Good copy, Akagi. Do you have traffic for me? Over” Terresa asked.

“New orders Scorpion. You and your squadron are to land on the recovery deck for the Ryuk. I say again the Ryuk is your new Lima Zulu. Over”

Terresa need to think fast. The FB-11 wasn’t setup for carrier landings. “Akagi, what is the length of the recovery deck over. Over”

“Long enough to handle your fighters Scorpion. Just over four-five-hundred feet. More than enough room for a soft touchdown. Come to heading zero-nine-seven at three-zero-zero-zero feet and squawk intent. Over”

“Copy that Akagi. Wraith flight out.” Terresa sighed and keyed her mike. “Looks like I get a command performance on the Ryuk Joker. Over”

“Looks that way love. Say hello to my mothers for me. Joker Out.” Before Terresa could say anything to James he cut the connection. Terresa was pissed.

“Gods be damned! I will not put up with that happy horse shit from him when we’re married. Not no but Hell no.” Terresa sat there fuming as she led her squadron on the new heading for the Royal Battle Platform Ryuk.

“Yeah boss, you never gave us your kills for the day. Over” Spider called out over the radio as he pulled in on Terresa’s portside.

“Five air victories, and four ground kills, Spider. Only one of them counts though. Over” Terresa said with pride in her voice. “Emily Calisto should be sitting in a nice cold cell right about now. Any word on who picked her up, Lilly?”

“The Akagi plucked Emily Calisto from the water just over an hour ago Terresa. She is in surgery to replace a prosthetic leg as we speak.”

Terresa sighed and leaned back as she led her squadron towards the carrier. “At least she’ll get a second chance at something better when this war was is over. How long until we reach the Ryuk?”

“Twenty minutes Terresa. Why?” A flip of a switch by Terresa, followed a shifting of her seat and Terresa was a softly snoring. “I’ll wake you when we’re ready to land Terresa. Sleep well.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 26
Huston Spaceport, New Texas

Sub Lieutenant Cedric Castle staggered across the ruins of the airfield. He could not believe the destruction that lay before his eyes. The three great Monolith dropships were smashed beyond recognition. Huge sections of hull plate lay scattered across the spaceport. They had landed on vehicles, tents, even the control tower had been cut in half by a piece of hull metal. Even the bunker in which he had taken shelter was struck by hull metal. It had taken the recovery crews four hours to dig them out.

Cedric’s first thoughts was to organize a defensive line along the outer edges of the spaceport. As a member of the warrior class it was his duty to protect the base. As he started to look for his commanding officer to report-in Cedric spots the Command Post for the first time. “By the goddess! What the frack did they hit us with? It couldn’t have been nukes.”

“It wasn’t. The Imperialists used thermobaric warheads. They didn’t need to use nukes Sub Lieutenant.” Cedric turned to look at the man who was talking only to receive a knife blade between the ribs. “Just like I don’t need a gun to kill your ignorant ass, just a sharp blade.” With a sharp twist and shove to the side. “And a little backwoods training in how to gut a whitetail deer. I hope you burn in hell River Slut.”

All across the destroyed spaceport the citizens of New Texas were taking out their revenge against the demoralized Amazons. It hadn’t taken the New Texians long to realize the greatest weakness in the Amazons. Without their officers to command them the front-line soldiers were as lost as a newborn babe in the woods. With the unexpected destruction of the Central Command Post the total Command Structure fell apart. Like all hive minds, you kill the queen and the hive dies. Which was what was happening all across New Texas. Without their Supreme Commander Von Bencher and his subordinates the front-line commanders had no idea of how to react to the new threat posed by the sudden arrival of thirty-six new Death Dealer divisions. Better known throughout the Empire was the Royal Combat Divisions or Death’s Own Divisions. The meanest, hardest, most diehard Death Dealer Combat Divisions in all the Empire.

The problems were compounded by the fact that all of the warrior class clones had been conditioned from birth to only follow the orders of their superior officers. The lower ranked officers were still being trained to be the ones giving the orders. Terresa Cole had planned the attack on Huston Spaceport to only cripple or destroy the clone ships. The fact that all three were taken out in the first strike allowed the rest of the Wraiths to go after secondary targets. Things like the Control Tower, Command Post, fuel and munitions depots, service yards, and communications networks. The Wraiths’ attack was having repercussions far across the planet.

A hundred miles to the south in the town of Billings. Those repercussions resulted in a total collapse of the front-line battle trace. With the loss of their air cover and coordination from their superiors the Amazons facing James and his RCT were meat for the grinder. When three of the divisions from the Royal Battle Group landed to their rear and deployed the Amazon forces broke into pandemonium. Even now six more Combat Divisions were surrounding the city of Huston and the remains of the spaceport. The outlying defenders had already been neutralized through sheer overwhelming firepower. Between the Long Toms and the long-range missiles of the Ogre class dropships few of the Amazon defensive positions lasted long under the weight of the artillery barrage.

The greatest blow to the Amazon forces was the total destruction of the Supreme Command Post. At the time of the attack Von Bencher along with his Command Staff where inside when the Mark 48 aerial drop torpedo slammed home and detonated. The five-story building that had been the final Command Post of the Amazon Expedition Force crumbled under the force of the Mark 48’s explosion. Buried deep under the ruble and twisted steal that was all that remained were Von Bencher, his XO, and the upper echelon of the command structure. This one blow had been delivered by the youngest member of the Wraiths, Lieutenant Kindra ‘Ratchet’ Stone.

With the fall of Huston and the spaceport to the Death Dealers the war would rapidly come to an end. Without their Supreme Commander the divisional commanders were at a loss for what to do. With the arrival of the four super-carriers of the Royal Battle Group the Mobile Command Posts for the Amazon Divisions were now being directly targeted by the bomber squadrons. By the end of the day only battalion and company commanders would be left on the battlefield. Not that it would matter as by that time all fifty-four Combat Divisions of the two Battle Groups would be fully deployed all cross the planet.

One-hundred miles south of Huston, the town of Billings.

James Nakatoma walked his White Tiger into the town square of the small town. The unrestrained destruction by the Amazon forces was everywhere. None of the small town’s buildings remained intact. James’s fury over the senseless destruction left him wanting to do more than just destroy the Amazons. He wanted to wipe them from the roles of humanity and history. He wanted to relegate the Amazons to the ash pile that was the Temple of Holy Light. Even as he fought to control his temper, he wished he had not reigned in his RCT.

Even as the remaining Amazons were surrendering he was tempted to pull the triggers of his main guns, but he was the Crowned Prince of the Empire, and therefore had to act as the stabilizing political influence for the area. That meant he had to allow the scum the chance to surrender. At least in the eyes of the Empire. The fact that he turned a blind eye to the occasional butt stroke of the rifle or kick in the ass would have to be overlooked by history. To him the Amazons had brought this on themselves pure and simple. That they only got what they deserved.

The arrival of a heavy lifting shuttle on the edge of town let James know that his time at the front was now over. “Looks like we need to report in Wild Cards.”

“Don’t you mean YOU need to report in, Joker.” The soft voice of Heather Pike corrected her long-time friend.

“I hate to say this Joker, but the Queen of Hearts is right. We don’t need to do anything. This is all on you brother.” Steven Light Horse quickly added.

“Joker, you got yourself into this mess all on your own. Don’t go trying to drag the rest us in with you.” Was all Derick Pike said over the open channel.

“Piss off, King of Diamonds. We’re either all in or all out.” Joseph Silver Leaf snapped at his old friend. “The same goes for the rest of you.”

“Chill King of Clubs. I know that our friends won’t leave Glinda to hang. After all this is the first time she has to face my mothers.” James was not above playing dirty, especially with his friends. “I know that none of us would want her to face them all alone, all by her little old self.”

Almost as one the members of his lance started to grumble. Heather even went so far as to accuse James of unfair tactics. It wasn’t that the four closest friends James had a problem with visiting Ryuk. It was what visiting Ryuk could lead to. An unwelcome visitation with the Empress, and War Princess. It wasn’t that the Empress or War Princess were mean towards them or anything. It was just that James’s mothers could terrify battle hardened generals on a good day. On a bad they could make Assault class APSs run the other way with just a glance.

James just chuckled at his friends bitching as he marched his White Tiger towards the edge of town and heavy lift shuttle. Keying his mike James contacted his XO. “Roughrider six, this Joker. Over”

“Roughrider six here, Joker. I take it that you and the Wild Cards are being pulled out? Over”

“Most likely Roughrider six. The RCT is yours. Try to keep them in range of the support trains this time. Over” James answer the Colonel that was his XO.

“Understood, Joker. I won’t let it happen again. Have fun with the Wave Dancer. Roughrider six. Out.” The radio went dead as James chuckled. Only a man who had served under his mother Maiha could make that kind of joke and get away with it.

James maneuvered the 85-ton APS into the special carriage that would be used hold it in place as they travelled to Ryuk. Once Reaper was secured in his cradle he turned over the suit to the AI. “Looks like we get to visit my moms, Reaper old boy. Please make sure to secure your systems.”

“James, the day I let some wrench monkey have full access to my systems is the day that Victory Maid gives birth. Now, get. I’m sure that your mothers are having the time of their lives with that Fury of yours.”

James stopped dead at the cockpit exit. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

“You may think you’re having private talks with Death James, but I hear everything in my cockpit. Besides I find the idea of the Man called Death marrying the Fury Tisiphone very appealing. Yes, I can see it now, the Fury of vengeful destruction and Death bound together in holy matrimony.”

“Oh, shut up! You old perv! I swear you’re worse than my mothers at times. Speaking of which. Have either Puss-in-boots or Victory Maiden contacted you?” James asked of his APS’s AI. He want to know if the Royal Command Lance was awake for a reason.

“Not as of yet, James. They normally don’t bitch me out until we are alone in the hanger. You would think that they are my mothers the way they act at times.” Reaper grumbled much to James’s amusement.

“Okay bubby. Well, I need to get my ass down in a seat. I don’t wait to keep the pilot waiting too long. I have a feeling that he is under orders to haul ass back to Ryuk as soon as he has us secured. See you in a bit.” James closed and secured the cockpit hatch then climbed down the front of his APS.

James smiled at Heather and Derick hugging each other. James’s AI, Stephen could tell that this show of affection between his friends filled James with jealousy ‘Don’t worry James. You’ll be in the arms of your Terresa shortly.’

‘Stephen, there are times that I really do envy those two. I just hope like hell that my mothers haven’t sent Terresa running for the hills. You know they get at times. I swear that poor boy that tried to date Ohmie is still in hiding.’ James told his bio-AI with more than a chuckle.

‘Yes, you’re quite right. The last I heard he joined a Pure Light monastery on Cayman Seven in the Caribbean System.’

James just shook his head and joined his friends as they took their seats in the heavy lift shuttle. The pilots didn’t waste any time once their passengers were seated and secured. The takeoff was a little rough, but the flight smoothed out once they had gained altitude. James leaned back in his seat and relaxed. Closing his eyes James did his best to let the past six hours fade into the background. The nonstop fighting of the war had reached a point where it was beyond barbaric.

Once word of what the Amazons had been doing spread through the ranks of the Death Dealers no quarter was given. Whole Amazon units had been slaughtered to the last man. As much as James wanted to say that the Death Dealer divisions were obeying the Rules of the War, he couldn’t. Not when the Amazons were refusing to surrender or showing quarter themselves. This war had long ago become one of annihilation. On both sides of the lines. He knew that his report to his mothers wasn’t going to be one that would sit well with them.

James felt the shuttle touch down on the recovery deck of Ryuk before his friends. Releasing his harness James stood up with a smile. “Pass my compliments to the pilots, airman. Smoother flight couldn’t be had.”

The rest of James’s lance gave the same respects to the airman and followed James off the shuttle through the rear ramp. James was the first to be pinged by the ancient AI that ran the massive battle platform. James stopped and opened a channel to Ryuk. Calling out in a clear voice for all to hear. “Permission to come aboard Old friend?”

The voice that answered James’s question was rich and highly cultured. “Permission granted, James. Welcome home. It has been a while since you last graced my decks.”

“Thank you, Ryuk. You are right it has been a while since I was last home. I hope that you won’t hold that against me? I have been kind of busy with certain commitments and performing my duties as an officer of the military.” James said aloud. Which got the others chuckling. They all knew that Ryuk was more than just a battle platform to James. The ancient warship was his home in a very real way.

“You’re forgiven James. Just remember that you can always stop in while on leave.” James could have sworn the ancient AI was laying on a guilt trip. Then again Ryuk was as much a parent and teacher to him as his mothers. “Your mothers are in the upper observation dome as usual. Colonel Terresa Cole is in the pilot’s ready room.”

“Thanks, Ryuk.” Turning to Derick, Heather, Steven, and Joseph. “If you guys want to bail I’ll understand. I know that more than one of the mess halls is still serving. Why don’t you guys get yourselves something to eat?”

“Sounds good bro. We’ll catchup with you later. Go find Terresa before heading off to see your moms. She’ll need you by her side when they meet her for the first time.” Heather ordered James.

“I agree with Heather, mate. Terresa may be hot on the stick, but she sure as hell isn’t ready to face your mothers on her own just yet. Frack. I don’t think anyone is ever really ready to do that. They are flat out scary.” Joseph cracked.

“Scary is an understatement, Joseph. I remember the first time I met them. I damned near pissed my pants.” Derick said honestly as he shivered. “Empress Maiha can be terrorizing with just a simple look.”

“You can say that again. Don’t forget the War Princess Alison and that frown of displeasure she has. I mean, come on. Who would turn that look on a ten-year-old just for finger painting the Royal Corridors.” Steven complained. Which naturally got all of them laughing at the memory of Steven and James’s greatest adventure in the art world. Even Ryuk was chuckling as he followed the five members of the Command Lance through his decks and corridors. “You didn’t need to rat us out Ryuk.”

“Oh but I did young Steven. I will never lie to the Royal Couple. Especially when they have been entrusted with the wellbeing of a child.” That alone got them all to laugh even harder. “I should warn you all that Nia is going to be going over your APSs while they are on board. She said something about finding what the yahoos in Maintenance missed.”

That brought a round of chuckles from the four young men and one lady. The personal maid and APS Technician for Empress Maiha and Princess Alison was known for her prickly attitude towards those who worked on the Royal APSs. The last person to cross the old woman’s path in that manner ended up missing ten-pounds after the ass-chewing. Nia treated the Royal APSs like they were her children. And woe be to anyone who dared to hurt one of her children. They had only gotten halfway to the exit from the recovery deck when a scream of bloody murder rang out over the normal din. “WHERE THE HELL IS THE CROWN PRINCE?! WHAT THE HELL DID HE DO TO MY BABY?!”

“RUN.” Was all James said as he took off like a bat out of hell. His friends were right behind them as they heard the rage of the old woman climbing at the sight of their APSs’ damage. None of them wanted to be on the recovery deck with a pissed off Nia. The woman was known to take out her displeasure with pilots in unique and interesting ways that often resulted in a painful lesson.

Once the five APS pilots were safely out of range of the pissed off Tech/maid they started to laugh. James hugged Heather then waved to the guys. “I’ll catch up later guys. I need to go find Terresa and her squadron. Before my mothers’ Lady’s maids do. No way in hell am I going to subject her to that just yet.”

The very mentioning of Gin and Kina was enough to get the battle-hardened vets laughing again. With the exception of Heather who shivered at the thought of facing those two women and their assistants. The look she gave James conveyed more than her words. “Better run and not look back if they get a hold of her first.”

James got the none to subtle hint and took off for the pilot’s ready room at a dead run. He knew he had to be in time to save Terresa from the none too tender mercies of his mothers’ personal maids. They were set in their ways on how a young lady should present herself in public in a High Family setting. Military uniforms didn’t play into their view of how things should be. Terresa would likely try to gut the two old women and find out the hard way her mistake.

Pilot’s ready room, Ryuk.

The air in the pilot’s ready room was thick with the smell of stale sweat, old coffee, and tobacco ash. More than one of the chairs had burn marks from dropped cigarettes, or cigars. Even now there was a thin haze of smoke drifting at chest height that filled the room. Only three of the twenty pilots gathered did not have a lit cigarette, cigar, or one case a pipe in their hands. All had been given a black flight suite and their choice of tobacco upon landing. When shown where the ready room was, all they asked for after that was for three urns of hot coffee.

Terresa sat behind the desk at the front of the ready room going over the after-action report with Spider and Smoke. She was amazed by the number of confirmed kills for her squadron, and that of the Strike Eagle squadron. Eighteen KV-81s were destroyed over Huston. With a total of twenty-eight IL-2s and fourteen IL-4s over the town of Billings. At first, she couldn’t believe the actual number of kills. They just didn’t add up. That was until Spider pointed out that the IL-2s and IL-4s were reinforced half way through the air battle over Billings.

“Did anybody spot where those reinforcement come from?” Terresa asked of her pilots.

“I did ma’am. And I don’t think that there will be any more from that area.” Jimmy ‘Hawk’ Two-knives answered her quickly. Then went onto explain. “One of those Ogre’s dropped right on top of that position ten minutes after we engaged the reinforcements ma’am. That satellite base has their own problems to deal with right now.”

“Thank you, Hawk. That helps out a lot. Anyone have any idea of how many more of those satellite bases there are?” Terresa asked of them all. She had already found that if she was honest with her pilots they were honest with her.

“According to the latest intel around ten to fifteen, Colonel.” Micky House answered quickly as he was the squadron’s Intelligence Officer.

“Any way to get that number firmed up Mouse?” Terresa asked him.

“I’ll need to get with the Intel Office on board ma’am. But I doubt that they will be much of a threat for much longer.” Mouse took a heavy drag off of his cigar before continuing. “I overheard that the battleships and destroyers are heading out to pound all of the outlying airbases in the next two hours.”

“Between the battleships, destroyers, and the supercarriers those bases will be nothings but ash by the end of the day, Colonel.” Ratchet told Terresa with a smile.

“Why do I have the feeling that you would love to be out there with those carrier squadrons Ratchet.” When the young lieutenant nodded her head Terresa chuckled. “You’re not the only one. I believe that the rest of us want to be out there pounding the River sluts some more.”

“Yah, why were we pulled out of the fight, ma’am?” Otto ‘Ice pick’ Johannsson asked with some heat to his voice, but a lot of respect for Terresa.

Terresa could understand the big man’s anger at being pulled out of the fighting. Of all those here, he had the most reason for hating the Amazons. His hometown with his family was one of the towns that had been evacuated by the Amazons. So far only Terresa knew what had happened to Otto’s family. Oh, she knew that her pilots had heard of what happened in a lot of towns, villages, and cities across New Texas. So far, she had been able to keep her pilots on a tight reign. Instead of running off on seek and destroy missions all across the Western continent.

Terresa was saved from having to answer that question by the arrival of someone she really want to hug just then. “Attention! General in the ready room!”

“At ease! Continue with your briefing Colonel Cole.” James said with a wave of his hand. “Pay me no mind.”

Terresa stood up and glared at James. “That will not be happening General. You walk in on our mission debrief you can expect to be shown the respect you have earned.”

“I’m only here to sit in on your briefing Colonel. I kind of need the perspective of you and your pilots for my own briefing later on.” James said with a smile. “One that I am afraid you’ll be joining me in. You have thirty minutes to complete your debrief. Will that be enough time?”

Terresa grimaced and turned to Spider. “How about it Spider? That enough time?”

“Only one other thing ma’am. It concerns those Mark forty-eights we used ma’am. I’ve been receiving requests from Fleet Command for an impact statement. How do you want to proceed with the request?” Spider said.

“Tell Fleet Command to go piss up a rope Spider. We don’t answer to those shitheads. If they have a problem tell them to come talk to me.” Terresa snarled out. “They weren’t here when we were the only thing keeping the River Sluts from over running the planet. Besides, we’re Death Dealers and we don’t answer to Fleet.”

“Well said Colonel.” James said out loud as he walked to the front of the ready room. “And Major, if the jackasses in Fleet Command give you any grief tell them to take it up with General Davenport.”

“Yes, sir, General.” Spider just smiled at the thought of tell Fleet Command to go piss up a rope or talk to General Davenport.

James turned to Terresa. “As much as I know you would love to sit here and bullshit with your pilots Colonel. We’ve a meeting to attend.”

Terresa just glared and stood up. “Spider double check with the air boss. If we’re on stand down, see if you can round up some beer for everyone.”

“Ryuk old buddy, you got a minute?” James called out into thin air. A few seconds later the ancient AI answered James.

“For you James any time. What do need?”

“Is Gunnery Chief Davis still operating his brewery?” James asked.

“Don’t worry James. The old Chief is still in operation. He even has a new beer. One that the younger crewmen say is extremely smooth. Should I send him a request order for the Wraiths? Say a twelve pack each?”

“So long as they’re not on duty, Ryuk. I don’t need them getting in trouble with the air boss.” James answered quickly.

“As per her Majesty’s orders the Wraiths are on a forty-eight hour stand down from all flight operations, James. I have already sent the request to Chief Davis. He said that he’ll have six cases of his newest brew sent up within the hour. And James, your mothers know that both you and the Colonel are aboard.”

“Thanks, old man. You always know how to take care of the troops.” James called out. Then took Terresa by the hand with a smile. “Come on Terresa. Time to face the music. We do not want my mothers hunting us down.”

“Then I suggest that you put a little pep in your step, boy. They have been waiting for the both of you for the past hour.”

James just pulled Terresa along behind him as she thought for a way out of having to meet the Royal Couple. “Don’t I get a say in this? Damn it, James! Let go!”

James did let go of her hand but only once they were alone in the corridor. “Terresa, love. I know that you’re afraid of meeting my mothers, but you’re going to have to meet them sooner or later. I would rather that you meet them now in an informal setting. When you can jut be yourself. Than at some fracking State function or some other bullshit public forum. Somewhere that we do not have control.”

Terresa ground her teeth as she understood all too well what James was getting at. She either met with his mothers now in an informal setting or later in the throne room in front the whole damned Empire. In Terresa’s eyes neither option was a good one. Then again it was not like she had much choice. Her own mother had warned her about getting involved with the Prince. That warning was now coming true.

“Can I at least find a regular uniform before we meet your moms?” Terresa whined.

“You’re fine the way you look now, Terresa.” James looked her up and down with a smile. “By the way where did you and your squadron get those black flight suits?”

“Don’t ask me where they came from. We landed, and the deck crews were handing them out. Hell, I’m trying to figure out how they got our damned sizes correctly. When I asked the crewman, who gave me mine all he said was talk to the big guy. When I asked who was the big guy I just got a blank look followed by a either a chuckle or giggle depending on who I asked.” Terresa bitched as James chuckled.

At her look of displeasure James called out. “Ryuk, old buddy, would you care to introduce yourself to Colonel Cole?”

“Good afternoon, Colonel Cole. It is a pleasure to finally be introduced to such a lovely and passionate young lady. I was the one to provide the flight suits for both you and your squadron. It was a rather easy task. All of your measurements are on file after all with the Quartermaster Corps.” There was a smugness the ancient AI’s voice that had Terresa’s eyes bugging out.

“Don’t worry love, he does shit like that to me all the time. You’ll get used to him after a while.” James said with a sly smile. “That or go around the bend.”

“I will have you know James that I have never driven anyone around the bend, except for you and those four younger siblings of yours.” Ryuk huffed. Only to have Terresa bust out laughing at the ancient AI. “See. Terresa doesn’t have the problem that you do. She has a sense of humor.”

James frowned at the comment. “Oh, bight me, you old fart.”

“Biped pinky!” Ryuk retorted with a chuckle. “Your mothers are waiting. I suggest you get a move on kids. They have their bows out.”

“Shit! Come on Terresa. We’ve kept them waiting long enough if they are working with their bows. They only do that if they are trying to calm down.” James rushed Terresa through the corridors to the one elevator that would take them to the upper dorsal observation dome and the Zen garden that was Maiha’s second most favorite place on the ancient battle platform.

Terresa could only keep up with the man she had come to love as he ran through the corridors. She knew that something was up, but no what. She fought to keep track of where they were in the corridors. Terresa alright until they got to the four-way intersection. It was here that she lost her direction. The last thing she could truly say she knew where she was, was in the elevator rising to dorsal observatory.

Ryuk’s Dorsal Observatory.

The thud of an arrow striking home on the heavy wooden target was followed by a second. One of the two young women asked of the other. “How much longer should we give them Pussycat?”

“Let them have another thirty minutes, Kitten. Young love is such a fragile and beautiful thing. Especially in wartime.” Alice told Maiha with a small smile. She knew how much Maiha loved their oldest son James. And how she had worried over the proud young man. Alice was the only one who saw the devastation in Maiha’s heart the day that Cathy Pike was laid to rest in Fiddlers Green. Maiha had truly worried that loss would forever haunt their son James. “They will be here shortly. Then you can finally terrorize the young woman who has finally captured our son’s heart.”

“I will not, as you put it, terrorize the young woman.” Maiha harrumphed then stuck her tongue out at Alice. Then lowering her bow Maiha gave Alice playful look. “I just want to make sure that she good enough for James. After all, we both know that boy has been catting around long enough. It’s well past time that he settled down and gave us some grandchildren to spoil.”

The laughter that suddenly filled the room was full of joy and light hearted. “Maiha, you’re worse than I ever was. Give the boy a chance already.” Dai Etsu scolded her daughter. “As it is you already have four grandchildren. No need to be greedy. Ohmie and Ahmie are more than happy in raising their families.”

“I will quit pestering the boy the day he settles down.” Maiha huffed, then with a sigh, smiled. “Which I’m glad to say has finally happened again.”

“Does that day still haunt young James?” Reverend Mother Katsumi questioned her.

“I believe that it still haunts all of the Wild Cards Reverend Mother. Just as it haunts me. I never should have allowed that situation to reach the level that it did.” The anger that filled Maiha at that day and the people who brought it about filled Maiha to the point that golden cross-hairs flashed within her eyes. “One of these days the Vanderbilt High Family will pay for what they did.”

“There will be a line around my outer hull on that day, my Empress. But it STARTS with me.” Ryuk’s voice sounded harsh and was filled with the promise of great violence for the Vanderbilt Family. “Before you correct me Reverend Mother understand something. The harm they caused MY students is too great for me to let go. When the day comes they shall taste the fury of my main guns.”

The elevator sounded the warning tones for someone raising to the observation doom. “Your son has finally arrived my Empress.”

“Thank you, Ryuk. Don’t worry old friend once this war is done. We’ll be settling accounts with the Vanderbilts. For now put such thoughts to the side. Let us welcome our newest Princess to our family.” Alice called out.

“You know that this is going to cause a shit ton of problems with the Parliament.” Dai Etsu said with a smile. “How are you going to swing her Peerage?”

“Simple mother. I’ll use our own Peerage as grounds for Terresa’s. After all Alice was in the same boat as Terresa when Daniella pulled that War Princess crap.” Maiha pointed out rather smugly.

The two older women chuckled at the look on Maiha’s face. Dai Etsu put their feelings into words. “Even after all this time. You still cannot get over my student out foxing you. When will you just give up?”

“When she is in the grave mother Dai Etsu. You know how Maiha is. No retreat, no surrender. Not then, not now, not ever. She is just too much of a Death Dealer to be any other way.” Alice pointed out for them all.

“True. Even when she was married to my sister Matsu, Maiha was this way.” Dai Etsu sighed as she reached over and hugged Maiha. “The Owens family are very much samurai in every sense of the word. They never needed to be taught the code of bushido.”

“Nope, we just needed to be taught restraint.” Maiha smirked. “We’re still working on that thought. I don’t understand why people say I can’t use a PPC to settle disputes within the Parliament. I mean bang! No more dispute.”

The four women had gotten so caught up in their banter they failed to notice the arrival of James and Terresa. “Because mother, as much as that would end the problem it would also mean special elections every few days.” Alice and Maiha turned as one smiling at their son. Alice was the first to embrace James in a hug before letting Maiha get in her own hug. “It’s good to see mother Maiha. I wish that you weren’t here though. This whole mess should have been avoided.”

“I wish that it hadn’t even gotten to this point myself, James.” Maiha sighed as she pulled back from her son. “The Amazons just won’t allow the rest of the Empire to help. It was never against the law for them to clone or to use clones on their colony worlds. All they had to do was tell us just how bad that clones factory failure was, I would have sent them the needed scientists to help. They were just too damned proud to accept the help.”

“No ma’am. I’ve battled them in the skies. It was not pride that brought them to this point. It was arrogance.” Terresa wasn’t thinking when she corrected the Empress. She just wanted the truth to get out.

Maiha looked over at Terresa with curiosity. “Tell me Colonel Cole. How do you come by this insight? I for one would greatly wish to understand the Amazons.”

Terresa gulped hard. James saw Terresa start to shrink back then square her shoulders and face his mother head on. “It is not insight, your Majesty. It is hard earned respect and admiration for my enemy. The warrior class of the Amazons are not push overs. Their greatest problem is the greed and short sightedness of their leaders.”

“I like her James. She has real fire. When are you going to propose?” Dai Etsu asked bluntly. Much to the embarrassment of the Crown Prince.

“Damn it grandmother! When are you going to stop harping on me to get married?” James grumbled as Terresa giggled. “Don’t you start on me. I get enough of it from my sisters and brothers, Terresa.”

Alice leaned in close to Terresa and stage whispered. “He was always a late bloomer, dear. Give him a little time but don’t wait to long. The first girl he ever went out on date with had to ask HIM out.”

“Ah for the love of the goddess, MOM!” James quickly saw where his family was going. Looking over at Maiha. “Don’t you start on me either mother. I can handle my love life just fine without you sticking your noses in it.”

Maiha just smiled at James then smirked when Katsumi drove the nail in his coffin. “Why shouldn’t she do that? After all, my student, your mother has always looked out for your best interests. Even when you could never see them.”

“Ah shit! I knew I should have just stayed at the front.” James complained. “At least there I could shoot back, and the odds weren’t so lopsided.”

Terresa was by this point laughing outright. Maiha smiled over at the young woman. She liked what she saw, in more ways than one. Terresa Cole was everything that she wanted in a wife for her son. Strong willed, independent, extremely intelligent, extremely passionate, and honorable. All of this was topped off by her unearthly beauty. The petite Claymore had an air about her that drew one to her eyes. Those silver eyes that held all the pain, hurt, and death she had witnessed over the last months. Yet they also held a tenderness that offset all that death and pain. Here was a true daughter of House Nakatoma.

“Terresa may I have a moment of your time alone?” Maiha asked out of the blue. Totally catching James off guard. Terresa’s answer sent his mind reeling.

“My time is yours, Empress.” Terresa just followed Maiha off to the far end of the dome. When they reached the far edge of the dome Maiha just stared out at the skies. Terresa let her eyes be draw to the contrails of the CAP fighters.

“Tell me Terresa, what is it you want from your life? There has to be more than just flying your beloved fighters.” Maiha could feel the young woman’s distress at her unknown future. “What would you do if you could no longer fly?”

Terresa sighed and let her eyes be drawn to the far horizon. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. All I have ever wanted to be is a fighter pilot. I knew that I would never command something like a supercarrier. So I never thought along those lines. Back when I was a man I wanted to find a good woman, get married, have two or three children and work my way up through the ranks. To, maybe one day, command a squadron. I never expected to be a bird Colonel before I was thirty.”

Terresa sighed and looked over her shoulder at where James stood with the Grand Lady Dai Etsu, Princess Alison, and the Reverend Mother Katsumi. “I do love your son, Majesty. I just don’t know if I belong among the Nobility, let alone the Royalty of our Empire. I am just a simple fighter pilot, from a military family. I have no High Families blood in me nor do I have the social graces that is required to function among those circles.”

Maiha chuckled and placed a hand gently on Terresa’s shoulder. “Allow me let you in on a very poorly kept secret Colonel. The Princess Alison was a lowly APS pilot when I first met and married her. An orphan with no ties to the High Families. Just as my grandfather was. The only tie that I have to nobility or the High Families is my grandmother. A lady who married one of the rudest, rowdiest, socially unacceptable, Death Dealer Sergeants, that ever graced the battlefield. James J. Owens may have arisen to the highest rank among the Death Dealers, but he never forgot where he came from. If it had not been for my grandmother, he would have never gone past the rank of Command Sergeant Major.”

Looking over at Dai Etsu and the others. “The Grand Lady Dai Etsu is my great aunt but with the death of my grandfather she adopted me. It was from her that I learned how to be a noble lady. Let this be your first lesson in the ways of the so-called upper class. They put their pants on one leg at a time just like everybody else. That and that none of them with all their highly overrated sense of superiority are worth the one credit forty-five to blow their asses to hell.”

Terresa couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh. Here she was being given her first lesson on how to be a noble lady from the Empress herself. And Maiha was telling her to basically screw whatever she had ever heard. Maiha took Terresa by the hand and led her back to where everyone was standing. Reaching over she grabbed James hand and placed Terresa’s in his. With a smile she stepped back looking her son in the eyes the whole time.

“Tell me James. Have you proposed to Terresa yet?” was all that Maiha asked.

“Not yet, but I wanted you and mother Alice to meet her before I did.” James answered with his reasons for holding back.

“Then don’t wait any longer. I find her ever charming and, despite her protests, to be very much your equal.” Maiha told him smugly.

James knew an order from his mother when he heard one. She wanted to be there when he proposed and wasn’t going to wait any longer for him to delay. “Only one problem mom. I don’t have a ring.” James knew he had Maiha.

Alice just smiled and reached inside her kimono to pull out a small velvet cover box. “Here. It should fit her just fine. We talked with her mother to get Terresa’s ring size. Not to mention all of her other sizes.”

“Did your squadron appreciate the new flight suits dear?” Dai Etsu asked.

“Um… yes ma’am. We were all a little surprised to be given flight suits when we touched down. We’ve kind of gotten used to flying in just our bio-armor.” Terresa answered Dai Etsu shyly. “I do have one question. Why are the squadron patches all marked with Ryuk’s designation number?”

“Oh that silly thing.” Katsumi waved her hand as if to brush away an annoying fly. “Your squadron has been reassigned to Ryuk as the Royal Escort Squadron.”

Terresa was going to blow her top but was stopped by Katsumi’s next words. “Just as James’s lance has been reassigned to the Royal Battle Group’s Command Battalion.”

“Okay just what the hell is going on here mothers? What does Reverend Mother Katsumi mean by these reassignments?” James demanded.

“Simple, you and your lovely fiancée along with your units have been reassigned to Ryuk until further notice. I’m not about to have the next Royal couple placed in harm’s way without good damned reason.” Dai Etsu told him pleasantly.

“Don’t we get a say in this, grandmother?” James complained. Only to get a one word answer from the four most powerful women in the Empire.

“No!” James just gave Terresa a sad smile opened the box and took out the ring inside and dropping to one knee.

“Terresa Cole, would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man within the Empire?” James held his breath as the beautiful elfin white woman held his fate in her hands with a simple word. Until now, James had never even thought that she might not accept his proposal. When Terresa said nothing but held her left hand out, James slid the diamond engagement ring slowly onto her ring finger. When she still said nothing only nodding her head James grabbed her and swung her whooping for joy. Gone was the restrained and refined Crowned Prince of the Human Empire. All the while, Terresa screamed at the top of her lungs “yes” over and over.

Unseen by the young couple a group of Hellhounds entered the observatory. In their Commander’s hands were two wooden boxes. The first wooden box was five-feet in length, two-feet wide, and eight-inches thick. The wood was a deep red, polished to a mirror reflective shine. The top two-inches were a hinged lid with the Cole Family crest carved in it, with matching mother of pearl and black jade inlay.

The second box was just as ornate. Only the wood was as dark as the blackest night. Even though it had been highly polished, no light reflected from the surface. It was as if the box refused to give up the life giving warmth of the sunlight. Inlayed on each corner was a blood ruby red, and pure ivory white, pair of roses wrapped around a silver sword. This was the crest of the once great family now lost to the annals of time. They held one of the lost Princedoms within the Empire.

“James now that your lovely fiancée has said yes we need to take on the small matter of her peerage.” Maiha reached over and took the smaller box from the Hellhound Captain. Opening the box slowly with far more reverence than James had ever seen his mother use Maiha took the silver and black onyx circlet from its blood red velvet bed. “This is the tiara of the Princedom Fire Winds.”

James staggered back a step as Terresa grabbed his arm for support. The lost Princedom of Fire Winds was said to be founded by the ancestors of the Scottish High Landers. It was one of two such planetary systems in all of the Empire. The other was the home world of the Owens Clan and the Blood Red Knights. Only the Wallace could claim that system, just as only the Bruce could claim Fire Winds. James knew the second he laid eyes on that circlet what his mother was going to do.

Maiha stepped over to Terresa smiling. “For the last three-hundred years the Princedom has been without Prince or Princess. The last Bruce to hold Fire Winds died of old age without heirs. It was placed in the trust of the Empire until such a time that a certain warrior appeared. A warrior of unparalleled skill. A warrior of unmatched bravery. A warrior with unquestionable honor. Yet a warrior who showed compassion and respect for their foe. This simple piece of metal has sat waiting for three long centuries for that warrior to appear. As have the people of Fire Winds. I am happy to say that their long wait is now at an end. Kneel.”

Terresa did as ordered dropping to both knees bowing her head as she did so. “Do you Terresa Cole swear your undying loyalty to the people of Fie Winds? Do you swear to hold and protect those same people from all enemies? To never cease in the pursuit of justice in their name? To never take up arms against your people but only to protect them and all they hold dear? To rule with honor and mercy?”

Terresa let her eyes grow wide and looked up at the Empress. This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be happening. Yet it was happening. Looking over at where James now stood behind his mother the Empress with his hand on his sword’s hilt. The thought of where the hell did he get those ran through Terresa’s head. Then she noticed that Maiha was wearing the two swords she had seen earlier. With nothing else to give for an answer Terresa swallowed hard then a load clear voice.

“With all of my being I give my blood, my word, my heart, my every being to the people of Fire Winds. Most especially I give them my fury only in their defense. Just as I give my fury to those who dare to threaten the Empire.”

Maiha slowly placed the onyx and silver circlet on Terresa’s bowed head. “Welcome home Princess of Fire Winds, the first Countess of Bruce, Duchess of the High Lands, Terresa Cole. It has been a long wait for your people. Too long.”

Terresa slowly climbed to her feet and noticed that James was also wearing a circlet similar to her own. The biggest deference was his was made of gold. Seeing where Terresa was looking Alice pointed to her own head with a smile. “They were brought in earlier by the Hellhounds. Don’t worry Terresa, we almost never wear them unless it is for some stupid pain in the ass state function. Maiha almost never wears hers even when she is supposed to, like when crowning someone a Princess.”

“Hush you! I am not done with my Royal duties yet.” Maiha turned back to the Hellhound Captain and opened the large box. Reaching in with her left hand Maiha was glad for her enhanced Death Dealer strength as she picked up the massive two-hand battle sword laying there. Turning back to Terresa, Maiha drew the blade one handed from its scabbard. Even for Maiha it was a struggle as the blade an unwieldy weapon, two inches broad, doubly edged; the length of the blade three feet seven inches; of the handle, fourteen inches; of a plain transverse guard, one foot; the weight six pounds and a half. Handing it to James along with the scabbard. “Do your duty Prince James.”

James set the massive sword point down then reached down to help Terresa to her feet. “Remember when I told you that there was one more reward coming?” Terresa nodded her head. “Well, this is it. You’re becoming a Knight of the Realm.”

Taking the scabbard and draping over Terresa’s shoulders so that it hung across her back. James fastened the decorative yet functional clasp over the center of her breast. Lifting the massive sword by the hilt with the point up. “This is the sword of the Prince or Princess of Fire Winds. She has a blade that is two inches broad, doubly edged; the length of the blade three feet seven inches of folded and twisted steel. Its handle, is fourteen inches of the finest leather wrapped oak. The transverse guard may be plain but it is one foot of Damascus steel. The total weight six and a half pounds. Feel the weight.” With that James just dropped the sword in Terresa’s hands. The second Terresa saw the massive blade Lilly gave her the name for this type of sword. One that would forever ring in her heart.

In a voice barely above a whisper. Terresa let her wonder fill the room. “A Claymore for a Claymore.”

-----tbc-----

Chapter 27
The Battle platform Ryuk.
Andria Cole led her oldest daughter and son through the corridors of the massive battle platform. She moved as if she knew exactly where she was going. Then again this was not her first time aboard these Shinigami. She had spent her first tour of active duty walking these corridors as a young Medical Officer. The sights and sounds of the ancient warship were a welcoming embrace.

“Mom do you have any idea of why we’ve been pulled out the line?” Sylvia asked.

“I have an idea Sylvia, but until I get confirmation I’m keeping it to myself.” Andria’s answer pissed off both of her oldest children. Especially Sylvester.

“General, you can take that answer and shove it. What the frack is going on?”

“Sylvester, I am still your mother. You will keep a civil tongue in your head. I don’t care how many jumps you got under your belt.” Andria snarled. “If you can’t do that I’ll be more than happy to beat the ever-loving crap out of your ass.”

Andria’s sharp retort brought both younger Coles up short. They could tell that their mother was on edge. Not just from the long shifts in the O.R. or commanding a MASH unit on the move for seven days straight. They knew their mother was worried about their sister. It had to be that as no one had heard from their sister Terresa since the end of her squadron’s last mission. The last anyone had heard they were redirected to one of the carriers for refueling. That was over two days ago.

Andria was even more pissed off when she heard that her daughter’s squadron had been diverted to provide air support to one of the RCTs. It was bad enough they were flying at the extreme range of their fighters. But to have some REMF sitting back in a control center giving them additional secondary missions was too much. Andria had been fuming over those orders since she found about them.

Then there was the arrival of a HSST shuttle at her MASH unit. The only thing that kept Andria from just shooting the pilots and their escorts was their uniforms. If they had been any other Death Dealer unit the men and women would be on an operating table having their asses reattached. Andria took one look at the Hellhound insignias and demanded what they wanted. After a second landing at the Command Post for the 101st Special Operations to pick up Sylvester the HSST flew out over the water to the Royal Battle Platform. Andria knew the ship at first sight. It was like a dream or nightmare from her past raising up out of the ocean’s surface. She still hadn’t figured out which one yet.

When they touched down on the flight deck they were greeted by an escort of Hellhounds. After a quick shower and change of uniforms their escort led them towards the center of the ship. Andria knew where they were going the moment they passed the central elevator banks. The guards guided them into the waiting elevator that only went to one set of decks. The Royal Family residence.

“Let me be perfectly clear children. Whatever happens do not reach for or activate your weapons. I want to collect as much of my retirement as possible.” Andria knew for a fact that the Hellhounds were the meanest of the mean, badest of the bad, deadliest of the deadly. They were truly a cut above the rest of the Death Dealers. They had to be. They were the Royal Bodyguards, and their loyalty was without question. The last person who tried to attack the Royal Couple never got past the point of reaching for their weapon.

“Mom, I know this is going to sound stupid. But just where the hell are we?” Sylvia asked as they exited the elevator to find six Hellhounds in full Land Warrior Armor.

The biggest of them pointed to a table. “Place your knives, and sidearms on the table.” It was not so much a request but outright order. One the Cole family quickly followed. They may be Death Dealers, but they were facing Hellhounds in Land Warrior Armor. They were at a very distinctive disadvantage. “Follow the red line.”

The Cole siblings fell in behind their mother as she led the way. Andria Cole knew where that red line led. She wasn’t too sure as to why they would be on this deck level, but she had her suspicions. As they neared the end of the corridor there was a set of golden double doors. Andria knew that those doors may appear to be gold they were far from it. Each weighed close to fifteen-hundred pounds apiece and were made of solid battleship armor plating. Embossed on each was the crest of House Nakatoma in black and red. Those two doors could take a direct hit from a PPC and ask for more. On each side of the doorway stood a Hellhound in Land Warrior Armor. All three Coles knew they were in a part of the battle platform that was rarely seen by outsiders.

Andria looked over at her oldest daughter. “You want to know where we are Sylvia. On the other side of those doors are the Royal Apartments.”

“You have got to be shitting me mom? Please tell me that this is a great big fracking joke. That we really are not about to be in front of Death’s Own Daughter.” Sylvester was almost shitting his pants at the thought of being before the Empress. It was bad enough he had to deal with the Crown Prince as one of his COs. Dealing with the Empress and the War Princess was a totally different story. The Hellhound guard to his left chuckled at hearing the Special Operations Officer whine about having to face his boss. Then again, most Line Officers were afraid of the Empress.

Sylvester gave the man a death glair. “You know this isn’t funny Captain?”

“Sorry, Colonel Cole, but yes, it is. Empress Maiha is not the great bogyman that everyone makes her out to be. Just relax and be yourself.” The Hellhound answered happy that his helmet hid his smiling face.

“Relax the man says. I wonder if he would be so calm if he was the one facing his execution?” Sylvester grumbled just before Andria elbowed him.

“Do not antagonize the Royal Guards, Sylvester.” Andria hissed. “They don’t need permission to shoot your ass.”

“Even here General Cole, there is this little thing we like to call the Law. The Empress would personally gut anyone of us if we do not have a DAMNED good reason for shooting first and asking later.” The Captain corrected Andria. He held his hand up and then signaled the other guard. The two of them reach over and twisted a handle next to the doors. “You can go in now General.”

The massive doors slid open to reveal the private chambers of Empress Maiha and the Royal Family. Unlike the Royal Throne Room this area lacked the opulence and trappings of Royalty. The area was modestly appointed in the traditional Japanese style of the late Tokugawa period. All three Cole family members were stunned by the simplistic beauty that surround them. They were so entranced by the beauty they failed to notice the five women and one man standing at the center of the room.

“Here I go out of the way to arrange for their transport to Ryuk. And what do they do? Stair at the furniture. Gee thanks a lot mom.” Terresa quipped.

All three of the older Coles turned to face Terresa each with a different expression. One of joy, one of confusion, the last was one of wonder. Upon seeing her younger sister Sylvia Cole ran across the room. Sylvester just stood there staring at Terresa as if she had risen from the grave. A grave that belonged to some ancient Scottish noble woman. Andria though took in the whole image before her and the four women, one man standing with her youngest daughter. Of all the Coles, only Andria had ever truly been in the presence of the four women that stood with James and Terresa. Andria wanted to smack her daughter Sylvia for not showing the proper decorum in front of the Royal Couple and their two most trusted advisors.

Terresa choaked out. “Jesus, sis. Can you let me get my breath, already?”

Sylvia let go and stepped back only to Terresa in the shoulder. “The next time you go galivanting off you better inform Command where you’re going.”

“Sorry, Sylvia. It’s just that Air Command ordered us off to provide Air and Ground Support for a unit in deep shit. We were the only Air Asset in the area that had the needed firepower. We went, we saw, we kicked their fracking asses.” Terresa smirked at her sister’s annoyed face. Only to get slapped on the back of the head by Sylvester as he walked up to her. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“For being a dumbass and not passing on your new landing zone. You stupid dink.” Sylvester snarled. “And I don’t care if James is banging your ass. You’re still part of this family and you don’t drop off the radar like that. Got it?!”

Terresa just smiled at her brother and sister. She had already figured out that they hadn’t noticed the Empress and War Prince standing just a few feet away. When Terresa looked over at her mother it was whole another story. Andria Cole was walking slowly over to stand before the Royal Family. With her back ramrod straight, arms at her sides, and head slightly bowed, Andria Cole bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Your Majesties, for looking after my daughter. I hope she hasn’t embarrassed our family while in your care.”

“Rise, General.” Maiha commanded with a smile. “Family should not be so formal when in private. And no, your daughter has not been an embarrassment.”

Andria stood straight then smile at the Empress. “It has been a long-time since I last walked these halls, Your Majesty. I doubt that I would be considered as family. After all it has been more than twenty years.”

All four of the women laughed at Andria’s reply before Terresa held out her hand to her mother. “Um… mom, I think that me being engaged to the Crown Prince kind of makes us family, now. I’m still trying to figure all that out.”

“YOU’RE WHAT?!” Sylvia shouted then grabbed her kid sister’s hand. There on the ring finger of the left hand of Terresa Cole was a diamond big enough to be classified as a deadly weapon. “OH MY GOD! HE FINALLY ASKED, AND YOU SAID YES?!”

Even Sylvester couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. His one-time baby brother, now baby sister, was engaged to the Crown Prince. The rock on her hand provided the truth to what had to be a dream or nightmare. He wasn’t sure which. Sylvester looked over at James who was nodding his head at the unspoken question. They really were engaged to be married.

Andria though had a slightly different opinion of the situation, then her two oldest children. “Is this what you want Terresa?”

Terresa smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, mom. I really do want this.”

Andria turned to Prince James, not General James Nakatoma, but the Crown Prince. Andria didn’t care that the Empress, War Princess, and his grandmother, Grand Lady Dai Etsu were present. “I hope you remember the warning I gave you James. Because if you haven’t I will carry out my promise.”

James swallowed hard as both of his mothers and grandmother started to chuckle. Maiha gave her son a look that said more than her words. The faint smile did nothing to warm the look in her eyes. “Remember my son. A son is a son until he takes a wife. A daughter though is a daughter all of her life. Mothers tend to be far more unforgiving when it comes to their little girls. Just ask your two sisters, and how we always saddled them with more guards than we did you or your brothers.”

“Damn it mom. I know that already. Sheesh, I think the one guy that tried to date Ahmie is still in hiding on some back-water planet.” James griped.

Andria though wasn’t paying attention to the by-play of the Royal Family. She was looking at the silver circlet that Terresa was currently wearing. There was something about that simple silver band that tugged at Andria’s memory. Then as if struck by a bolt of lightning Andria remembered where that particular tiara belonged. With a bow that match the one she gave Maiha, Andria smiled at her.

“Greetings, your Highness. It has been a long time since the people of Fire Winds had reason to celebrate.” Andria’s sudden change of attitude toward their sister grabbed both Sylvester and Sylvia’s attention.

Alice started to chuckled. “I see that the General’s memory is still as sharp as ever. Yes, General Cole, that is indeed the tiara for the Kingdom of Fire Winds.”

“I was the one to bestow the title and peerage, General.” Maiha said with a smile. “No, it was not so she could just marry my son either. Of all the Death Dealers on New Texas, your daughter has done the most to shorten the war.”

“Excuse me, your Majesty, but how does what my sister did equal her becoming a Princess?” Sylvia asked bluntly. “What I mean to say is.”

Maiha, Alice, Dai Etsu, and Katsumi all chuckled. Maiha placed her right hand on Sylvia’s shoulder. “Relax, LADY Sylvia. I understand what you mean.”

Dai Etsu stepped up the to the confused younger woman. “Under normal circumstance what your sister has been able to accomplish would be impossible. Her uncanny abilities and selfless dedication were more than enough to promote her elevation to Princess of Fire Winds.”

Looking over at Sylvester Dai Etsu let her smile grow slightly. “Your sister Lord Sylvester is one in a very small few who truly understand the meaning of the words Loyalty, Honor, Integrity, Duty, Sacrifice. Of all our subjects your family shinning examples of what should be the standard among all of citizens. It was not the Empress who made the decision to coronate your sister. I was the one who made the suggestion and proposed the Princedom for her to hold.”

“So, she really is a Princess in her own right?” Sylvia asked.

“Very much so, Lady Sylvia. By the way with your sister now being a Princess you are all by extension among the Nobility of Fire Winds as well. Sorry no help for it really. You see, this is what you get when the Crown Prince is your future brother-in-law.” James grabbed Sylvester by the arm. “Come on brother, time for a little brotherly bonding. I know of this great little off the grid place.”

With that the two young men walked out of the Royal Apartments. Leaving Terresa, to deal with her mother, sister, and future in-laws. “Just fracking great. Not even married yet, and my future husband is being stolen away by my brother.”

Terresa’s bitching got a laugh out of the gathered women. Andria pulled her youngest daughter into a hug. “It’s alright darling. Your brother will bring him back in time for the ceremony. James has to have a bachelor party after all.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that James is in for the time of his life.” Maiha snarked. “I know for a fact that his lance mates are waiting to ambush him tonight.”

“Excuse me your Majesty. But where is this bar that Prince James was talking about?” Sylvia asked in wonder. She had heard that all of the Fleet Vessels were dry. It had to be doubly so for the Royal Battle Platform.

Katsumi chuckled. “I think I should answer this one Maiha. Lady Sylvia, it may be Fleet policy for all combat vessels to be dry, but that policy is hardly ever enforced. That policy is there for the few Captains whose ethics point to a sober life. There is at least one speak easy bar on every ship. Even the Flag Ships.”

“Oh. But where do they get the booze and beer? They just can’t put in a requisition.” Sylvia pointed out the one problem with those bars.

“Where does any soldier get their booze and beer, child? They brew it themselves.” Katsumi chuckled as she pointed out the answer for the young woman. “Ah, it is so refreshing to find one that has yet to be soiled by the harsh reality of life. A truly innocent among the jaded.”

“No offence Reverend Mother, but I am not that innocent. I just couldn’t figure how or let alone where, some could setup a still on a warship.” Sylvia groused.

This got her mother laughing. “Sylvia, I love you dearly but like the old saying goes. Where there is a will there is a still.”

Terresa just chuckled as she thought about all the illegal stills and breweries that she had already found as a young line officer. Sylvia may have more time in service, but she was a Medical Officer. There was always an EM, NCO, and Officer club nearby those units. Something that combat units normally didn’t have on the line. There was always at least one mobile hooch or gin mill in every line unit. Why not have a speak easy on a warship.

The talk soon turned to the upcoming wedding of Terresa and James. Maiha decided to hold this conversation in a more comfortable setting. Leading the Cole women deeper into the Royal Apartments she took them to a small room that held a tea table and eight chairs. After seating everyone Maiha looked over at Gin and Kina. The two elderly maids quickly set to work preparing tea for their Ladies and their guests. Maiha and Alice had offered the two old women their retirement several times and been told they would retire when the time was right. Just as Nia had told them that she would be the one to decide when she was ready to retire.

Andria and Sylvia were amazed at the way the two elderly women still moved. Little did they know that both Personal Maids were well into their nineties. Neither one showed any sign of slowing down. For Terresa it was something she was still trying to understand. Her first introduction to the three Personal Maids had been yesterday and involved her being dressed as be fitting a Royal for the first time. That lesson had also come with a very rude and pain paddling.

Yesterday had also involved her explaining to her squadron they had been transferred to the Royal Battle Platform. Of the twenty-two pilots only one wished to remain on New Texas, Bobby ‘Snowman’ White. All of the others had jumped at the chance to leave New Texas, as they had no ties holding them to the planet now. Bobby was the only one who still had family on New Texas and he wanted to stay to help rebuild. Terresa used her new position among the Royal Family to swing his reassignment to the garrison force that would remain on New Texas. The Amazon forces had capitulated within hours following the destruction of their Command structure. By the early morning hours of today, all resistance to the Imperial Forces was crushed.

The war was over on New Texas. Even on the Home Planets of the Amazon Collective the war was rapidly winding down. The sheer firepower of the Death Dealer Battle Groups was sweeping away any and all resistance. All thanks to Terresa’s battle plan of targeting their High Command Centers for the Home Guard. Only the Drone Class was spared the wrath of the Empire’s deadliest combat units. The reports coming in from the other Battle Groups showed that within the next week the Warrior and High-Born Class’s of the Amazons would be a thing of history.

For Terresa and her squadron this meant they were no longer needed for combat missions in the foreseeable future. Maiha had placed them on Stand-bye until further notice. Peace had finally returned to the backwater planet of New Texas and the New Confederate Systems. The Amazon gamble had failed. All that remained now was to plan the next Royal Wedding. For which the greatest challenge was turning a very reluctant young lady named Terresa Cole into a refined and cultured Lady befitting the tittle bestowed on her by the Empress. Even Andria Cole, a battle-hardened combat medical officer, had to cringe at the thought of that battle. When Dai Etsu commented that Gin and Kina were more than capable of handling the challenge it was Terresa who cringed this time. Much to the amusement of her sister and mother.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t just where my dress blacks for the ceremony?” Terresa whined as she rubbed her backside. “By the way, has anyone ever thought to check and see if Personal Maids can be brought up on Crimes Against Humanity?”

The supercarrier Akagi
Emily Calisto sat up slowly in her medical bay bed. Looking down at the new cyber prosthetic arm and leg she could only imagine what her life would have been like if she had, had this type of medical care in the Amazon Collective. Unlike the old ones, where you see the physical differences, there was no demarcation between flesh and prosthetic. Even though she had lived with her prosthetics for years now, she was having problems adjusting to the new limbs. She was more surprised by the way her captors were treating her than anything else.

Emily had expected to wake up from her surgery in an isolation cell. Instead she woke to find herself in the medical bay of the Carrier Akagi. Not only had the nurses and corpsmen fed her, they treated her with respect. When the Intelligence Office had come in to question her a few hours after her surgery one nurse threatened to have them brought up on charges. Then the short but extremely feisty young Lieutenant had the guards throw the Intelligence Officers out of the medical bay. Saying something about the health of her patients came first.

“Well, looks like I get to at least live long enough to face a War Crimes Trail.” Emily mumbled to herself.

“I hate to tell you this Flight Leader Calisto, but you’ll most likely be getting a pardon.” The man in the bed next to her commented. At Emily’s look of confusion, he started to chuckle. “Lieutenant Jack Hunter, ma’am. I asked who you were when they brought you in yesterday. You are the Black Witch, Emily Calisto?”

“I am. I’m also a little surprised by your statement about a pardon. Why would the Empress or any member of the Empire pardon any of us, Lieutenant? We’re all war criminals by the Conventions.” Emily was truly confused.

“We got into the clone programing records Flight Leader. We found the blind loyalty conditioning programing that you all undergo. In fact, more than a few us on the ward are trying to figure out how you were able to break your conditioning.” Emily could tell that the Lieutenant was being honest with her.

“I can give you that answer with two words. Terresa Cole.”

“Hold on here a moment Flight Leader. What does Colonel Cole have to do with you breaking what was supposed be unbreakable?”

“Terresa Cole is a COLONEL?!” Emily practically screeched. When the man nodded his head, Emily slumped back in her bed. “I never stood a chance. I was trying to fight someone way out of my league. No wonder she wiped the floor with me. Even with me having the advantage in two out three fights, she was just that much better. Gods how could I have been so arrogant?”

Jake sat up in his own bed looking worriedly over at the woman next to him. He had expected some great resistance to his questioning of her. Instead what he got was honest respect and fear of Terresa Cole. This was not what the Profiler had told him he would be finding. Something was wrong, and he needed to figure out what it was. Excuse me Flight Leader, but you don’t look to well. Are you okay?”

“It’s just Emily now Lieutenant. And please drop the act. I know that you’re with Counter Intelligence.” At his stunned look Emily chuckled. “Please, it is the oldest trick in the book. I’ll save you the hassle and answer your questions freely. What do you really want to know? Before you ask, I may have been a Flight Leader, but I was never privy to the High Commands over all plans. For that you need to capture Supreme Commander Von Bencher. His current command post location is the Huston Spaceport. I believe your forces know where that is. If not ask Colonel Cole.”

“That won’t be necessary Flight Leader Calisto. Supreme Commander Von Bencher died during the bombing of Huston Spaceport by the triple seven Wraiths. Now can we please return to my original question? How did you break your conditioning?”

“I found that I faced a foe who did not act the way I was taught by the Political Officers. I was forced to think outside of the box to fight her. Every time I faced off against Terresa Cole she would do something so insanely impossible I had to figure out how she did it. I had to push my boundaries to be a better pilot just to survive against the woman. The more I did this the more I questioned my Commander and those above me in the Chain of Command. I was still a soldier Lieutenant, but I would no longer blindly follow the horseshit dogma of the Political Officers.”

Jake sighed and then stood up. “I was afraid it was something like that. I wish that it was not the case, but it can’t be helped. You truly are a one of a kind Emily Calisto. Just as your adversary is a one of a kind.”

“May I know why you wanted to know how I broke my conditioning Lieutenant?” Emily was afraid of the answer she was about to get. She had a good idea of why.

“The few prisoners that we have been able to take are all showing signs of suicidal tendencies and thoughts. We’re trying to prevent any needless and avoidable deaths.” Emily could tell that Jake was being honest with her. The thought of hundreds of clones just committing suicide was abhorrent to the Lieutenant and the Imperialists. “We were hoping that you could give us a clue in how to break their conditioning.”

Sat there looking at the young and inexperienced Intelligence Office for a few seconds before chuckling. “Just give them an order to not die, Lieutenant. Have one of your Generals walk out in front of them in uniform and give the command to live. You’re capturing members of the Warrior Class. Every last one of them. Give them an order and they’ll follow it to the very end.”

“No offense, Flight Leader Calisto, but it can’t be that simple.”

“It is that simple, Lieutenant. You have to remember that they are clones conditioned from the day of the conception to follow the orders of the superiors blindly. No matter who that superior is. You just need to place a General Officer of the Medical Field in front of them and give the order.” The more Emily explained the situation to the Lieutenant the more the man stared at her in disbelief. The answer was so simple that no one even thought to try it.

“Thank you, Flight Leader. You may have just saved the lives of those men and women.” With that the young officer got up and hurried out of the medical bay.

Emily just laid back in her bed chuckling. “Some one should talk with that Lieutenant about keeping his cover until AFTER he has completed his assignment.”

“I’ll see what I can do about that Emily.” The voice was familiar, but the face was a total unknown. Not that Emily needed to know the face to know who this person was. She just wasn’t expecting to see the woman here in a medical bay. There was no doubt as to the young woman’s identity in Emily’s mind. She would have to be a fool to not recognize Terresa Cole. She was after all the only Claymore pilot among the Death Dealers. “How are the sawbones treating you? You need anything?”

Emily chuckled at the young woman’s total lack of respect for the Medical Officers. “I take it that you hate doctors, as much as I do, Terresa. Though I can honestly say that these doctors are far more competent than the ones I am used to.”

“It’s good to hear that they’re treating well.” Terresa moved to stand next to Emily’s bed. “As you have most likely guessed I am not here for a social visit.”

“I figured as much. What can I do for you Colonel Cole?”

“We need to know how many satellite air bases were set up.” Terresa figured that being honest with Emily would get better results than trickery. Besides she had far too much respect for her former enemy.

“I wish that I could give you an accurate account. That was one of the many defense plans that Von Bencher kept to himself. I know of only fourteen satellite bases for certain. There were rumors of more, but no one could find proof. Sorry I can’t be of more help. Towards the end Von Bencher trusted me and the other Sub Commanders less and less with each mile lost to the Death Dealers. He became extremely paranoid. The man didn’t even trust his Vice Commanders.” The more Emily told Terresa the more Terresa frowned. Emily wanted to shorten the war as fast as possible now.

“Emily, tell me something. Those four bombing attacks. On whose orders were those attacks carried out? The local Supreme Commander or the Collective’s High Command.”

“Those orders came from Von Bencher only. The Collective High Command had no idea of what he was doing. As for the pilots and crews of those bombers don’t waste your time hunting for them. I blew them out of the skies. I had no problem targeting military personnel and equipment. But I never held to the idea of civilians paying the price for rebel forces. Those attacks should never have happened.”

“Thank you, Emily. You answered a major question for us. Do you know why Von Bencher ordered the attacks by chance?” Terresa knew that Emily’s answer would go a long way towards removing her from the War Criminal list.

“Retribution for all the Insurgent Attacks. Von Bencher felt that if he destroyed the four cities with the highest Insurgency levels, while laying the blame on the Insurgents, he could quell the uprising.” Emily’s blunt answer floored Terresa. “If you’re wanting the REAL criminal behind those attacks Von Bencher’s headquarters is underneath the Control Tower at Huston Spaceport.”

Terresa visibly winced when she heard the location for the Amazon headquarters. “Looks like we won’t be bringing him or his staff before a Military Tribunal. The Tower took a direct hit from a Mark forty-eight torpedo.”

“Holy Shit! You used forty-eights for your attack on the spaceport! Are you crazy?! What the hell were you trying to do?! Shatter the coastal quake zone?!” Emily couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of the woman before her.

Terresa smirked. “Nope. If I wanted to do that I would have arranged for the use of the main guns on the Katsumi. Besides, I knew that you wouldn’t come out to play if you weren’t faced with a flight of aerospace fighters. Why would I use a sledgehammer when a scalpel would get the job done?”

Emily looked up at Terresa for a few seconds before finally bursting out laughing. It took the older woman more than ten minutes to regain her control. “Terresa Cole, if I could get my hands on a bottle of good Brandy right now. I would get you rip roaring drunk. As it is I owe you a drink for sparing my life.”

Terresa reached into the thigh pocket of her flight suit. She pulled out a silver one-liter flask with the crest of the Royal Family. Screwing off the top Terresa hand the flask to Emily. “It’s not Brandy, or Scotch, but it has alcohol.”

Taking the flask Emily tipped it back and took a swallow of the fiery liquid. Emily screwed her eyes shut and coughed as the liquid burned its way down her throat. When she could finally breath again, Emily coughed out. “What the hell is that shit? Is it even considered alcohol? By that I mean on any planet.”

Terresa just chuckled and took the flask of moonshine back. After taking a sip Terresa handed it back. “That, Emily is some of the finest moonshine in the Empire. And yes, it is considered alcohol. Illegal alcohol, but alcohol none the less.”

Following Terresa’s example, Emily took a sip of the potent beverage. Returning it to Terresa with a smile. “Nice flask there, Colonel. When is the wedding?”

“Not for a few weeks, Emily. And it is just Terresa, between us now. The Amazon Collective and its Warrior Class is now a relic rendered to the annals of history.” Terresa told her with a chuckle. “You’ll be happy to know that yes you and all of those not among the General Command Staff will be pardoned. The Empress has taken your conditioning into account as the primary factor for the pardons.”

After taking another sip Terresa handed the flask back to Emily. “You never answered my question, Terresa. When is the wedding?”

Chuckling at Emily’s persistence Terresa gave her the answer that was on everyone’s mind in the Royal Battle Group. She waited until Emily was taking her sip from the flask. “Next month on Hades Prime. How would you like to be a bridesmaid?”

Emily’s spit-shot was perfect. The moonshine came out of both of her nostrils. Once she had regained her composure again. Emily gave Terresa a death glare before questioning her sanity. “Now I know what this stuff is used for. You do know that torture is against the Conventions.”

“Hay! That’s ten credits worth of grade A hooch in that flask. I should know, I paid for it.” Then Terresa smirked. “But, you’re right. I should have waited for you to swallow that last tug. Now, you going to answer my question?”

“You’re not serious about me being a bridesmaid?” When Terresa just raised her left eye brow, Emily realized that she was. “Good lord! Me? A member of the Wedding Party for the Royal Couple. Why on earth would you want me there?” Taking another sip of the shine Emily handed the flask back to Terresa. As if by some unspoken agreement the flask and moonshine had become a symbolic peace treaty.

“Simple, I want you there as both an honored foe and respected friend. Of all the pilots I have face in this war, you were the only one who was a true challenge of my skills. I had to keep pushing myself to be better. You were just too damned good to not take seriously and show you the respect you had earned.” Terresa smiled at Emily then dropped the bomb she had been holding back. “Besides, part of the conditions for your pardon is ten years of service with the Wraiths.”

“Wait what?!” Emily’s eye bulged out at what Terresa said. “You know that I can’t serve with your squadron. They’ll skin me alive the first chance they get.”

“That’s why you’ll be escorted off the Akagi later on this afternoon by two Nightingale Sisters. Emily Calisto will die of her wounds while being treated. It will be someone else who joins my squadron. You get to pick your new name, Emily.” As Terresa laid out the plan for her to disappear Emily began to believe she might truly get a second chance in life.

“Why are you putting yourself on the line here Terresa? You don’t owe me jack shit. Why do this?” Emily knew there had to be more to it than just the pardon.

“Simple, Emily. The Empire was able to crack the main servers for the Collective. All of the cloning records are now in our hands. We know all about the conditioning and illegal cloning practices.” Terresa took a swallow of the moonshine and handed the flask to Emily. She knew that Emily would need the alcohol for what she was about to learn. “You’re not the only Emily Calisto. There are over a hundred and fifty copies of you.”

Emily stared at Terresa in shock for a few moments then threw back the flask taking a massive swig of the moonshine. She had always believed that she was the only one. Yes, she knew that she was a clone, but she was told there was only one of her at a time. To know that she had ‘sisters’ out there somewhere was a disturbing thought. Terresa could see that the revelation was having an effect on Emily. Reaching into her top breast pocket Terresa pulled out a pack of Empire Blacks and a lighter. She gave them both to Emily with a smile. At the woman’s questioning look Terresa just said. “Screw the docs. You need one of those right now. I can tell.”

After lighting one of the cigarettes and taking a deep drag Emily smirked. “Won’t be the first time I’ve pissed off the Medical Staff. Do I get a choice about joining your old squadron?”

“Nope. I’m down one pilot and you fit the bill. And what do you mean by old squadron? I have transferred out yet. And I’m not about to just turn it over to some yahoo.” Terresa gripped. Only to have Emily chuckle as she hand the flask back to Terresa.

“You need that more than I do right now. You might want to join me with a cig.” Emily watched as Terresa gave her the evil eye but did as suggested. Once Terresa had a lit cigarette Emily explained her reasoning. “Do you really think that the Empress and War Princess are going to let you continue to fly in a war zone? The answer to that is no. Besides I doubt that you and the Crown Prince will have much time to yourselves. The whole Empire has known of the Empress’s desire to step down for ten years now. She and the War Princess want to go off somewhere and be teachers. You and Prince James getting married is just the needed excuse.”

Terresa sat there smoking her cigarette and drinking from the flask. “Do me a favor and keep your theory to yourself, Emily.”

“Don’t worry Terresa, I will. Besides I doubt that anyone will believe me.” Taking a deep and final drag of her cigarette, then a final swing of the moonshine. “When am I supposed to be moved?”

“Later today. Why? You going to accept the offer?”

“Considering that I have nowhere else to turn to. I might as well sign up for life. At least with you I’ll still get to fly.” There was a wistful smile playing at the corners of Emily’s mouth. That was all she needed to see to know that Emily would be one of the most loyal pilots in the Wraiths.

Terresa raise the flask. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

Emily took the flask from Terresa and repeated the toast. “New beginnings.”

Epilogue
It had taken another three months to hash out all of the wedding plans for Terresa and James. The biggest problem they had was with finding enough bridesmaids for Terresa. She ended up using four members of her squadron as bridesmaids and her sister Sylvia as her maid-of-honor. Then there was the dresses. Terresa wanted to just wear her dress black uniform. The Royal Herald not to mention the Grand Ladies Dai Etsu and Andria put a stop to that idea. The location was another fight.

The Nakatomas want the wedding held on Hades. The Coles wanted the wedding held on Fire Winds. James and Terresa want to hold it on a neutral planet. Some place like New Texas or Earth Prime. Thankfully that problem was salved by Ryuk. He suggested that the wedding be held aboard him on the flight deck. After all, Terresa was a pilot and her bridesmaids were pilots that it was only befitting.

Between the three mothers they had the actual wedding ceremony was planned out as if it was a planetary assault. Poor Terresa was driven to taking her fighter out for two to three hour long flights. Even in deep space the Claymore was a cut above the fighters of Ryuk’s other squadrons. The triple seven, were fast to earn a reputation as the squadron to beat. For Terresa, those little flights were her way of escaping the stress of planning her wedding.

It was during the second month that a new Colonel arrived abroad Ryuk. The woman was a tall statuesque beauty with raven black hair. Her accent was a little off putting as no one could nail it down. The new Colonel quickly proved to the Wraiths that only Terresa was her equal. The two women would often take training flights that pitted them against each other. Their mock battles quickly became a new income source for the bookies as members of the different squadrons would place bets on the winner. The only thing that no one could figure out though was where the new Colonel came from. She was as big a mystery as Terresa Cole was at times. All anyone had been able to find out about Colonel Raven Nevermore was her number of victories and years of service. That and she had been raised by the Knights of Ida-ten.

No one could figure out how Raven and Terresa first met or became friends. They just knew that they were good friends and that Raven was taking over the triple seven following Terresa’s marriage. The day before the wedding Ryuk made planet fall on New Texas. It had been decided that Ryuk’s upper flight deck with the blast doors open would be used for the ceremony. It also gave enough room for all the guests and the press with their equipment to cover the wedding.

On the day of her wedding it was Raven that helped to calm Terresa’s nerves. No one knew what was said but the two women laughed for more than thirty minutes until Terresa was ready. The ceremony was a simple one, even if well-attended. There was a Representative from every system in the Empire at the ceremony. All walks of life were represented at the Wedding of the century. The squadrons of the Royal Battle Group did fly-byes during the wedding. The last fly-bye was timed to happen with the end of the ceremony. With the Wraiths thundering passed overhead an extremely happy Princess Terresa Cole y’ Nakatoma walked down the isle on the arm of her Prince to the sounds of the National.

The next morning Ryuk once again lifted off for the stars while the young couple slept. Andria, Sylvester, and Sylvia joined Maiha and Alice for breakfast in the Royal Apartments. Maiha and Alice discussed their plans for the newest Royal Couple with the Cole family. Only Sylvester found a problem with their plans and voiced his opinion. Of course, he was shot down by his mother and sister. They, along with Maiha and Alice were sure that their plans were in the best interest for the young couple. Besides Maiha and Alice had been planning for this day for years.

Maiha smiled as the young couple finally joined them for breakfast. “Well, James. Now, that you're all settled, I'm going to schedule the coronation for next week and start moving Alice and me to the Dower house.”

“But, Mom! I'm not ready to be Emperor…” James figured that he could avoid this conversation for a few more years. He just had to figure out an angle.

“Emperor? Who said anything about crowning you? We'll just crown Teresa as Empress. Maybe Ryuk can keep her out of trouble.” Maiha smirked as she looked over at a stunned and very confused Terresa.

When Maiha’s words and their meaning sunk in Terresa rounded on James screeching. “WHAT???!! MEE??? I am not even one of the so-called High Families Ladies! I can’t be EMPRESS!! Tell me she’s kidding James, or I’m OUTTAHERE!”

The deep rich baritone voice of the ancient AI known as Ryuk broke the silence of the dining room. “My Empress, commencing hyperspace jump. Next stop, Hades System.”