S:AaB Round
Robin
*** PART ONE ***
DISCLAIMER:
The characters and the universe of *Space: Above and Beyond* are
the property of Glen Morgan, James Wong and Hard Eight
Productions, borrowed with love and respect, but without permis-
sion; no copyright infringement intended. The development of the
"Second Season" in this Round Robin does not reflect or
state any intentions of the writers, creators, producers or
actors of S:AAB, but is only the result of fanfiction.
Characters introduced and posted in this Round Robin are the pro-
perty of the team of authors and are not to be used without their
permission.
Comments would be highly appreciated and can be sent either to
the specific author or to the Round Robin honcho at patzke@biologie.uni-oldenburg.de - they will then be forwarded to
the whole team.
This Round Robin is dedicated to Mark T.
He was a young *Space* fan who was awaiting heart transplant in
late 1995. Cast and crew, as well as a lot of people of the 59th
got very attached to him - and when he died it was a blow to all
of us. We dedicate the Round Robin to Mark T, since the Robin is
an expression of the ongoing spirit and life of a show that was
pronounced *dead* - but that couldn't be simply killed because
TPTB decided so....just as Mark T. lives on to support the show
with his spirit even though he died... ...this way we want to
demonstrate that *death* is something very relative and can be
defeated - just as we do in continuing the story...and just as
Mark T. did.
Rest in peace, Mark - you won't be forgotten.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Round Robin*: SECOND SEASON Part 1
* Payback time !*
By Brian J. Mills
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Asp, this is GreyWolf, my sweep is clear. I think this
so-called Chig Ace either chickened out on us or overslept,
either way I don't think he's coming. I recommend we head back to
base, I'm getting a bit low on fuel."
In the cold void of space five Hammer-head fighters flew in a
classic V formation, separating only to avoid the occasional
asteroid. Despite the fact that the temperature outside of his
cockpit was low enough to kill him in under a minute, his flight
suit was drenched in sweat. Hunting one of the Chig's finest
pilots while flying an inferior craft did not aide his slightly
stressed disposition.
The Chig Ace was called Chiggy Von Richthofen, after the Red
Baron due to his skill in the cockpit. He had already eradicated
many of the Saratoga's finest fighter squadrons, and GreyWolf's
squadron was here to prevent any more loss of life. However the
thought that most of the dead squadrons had come to accomplish
the same goal did not make the situation any easier.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea, I'm getting kind of low
here as well. Looks like Chiggy'll have to wait another day. Damn
shame too, I just cleared some space on my uniform for the
medal." The Captain's cocky replies were becoming a trade
mark for the 174th. GreyWolf chuckled despite himself.
The squadron executed a lazy loop in unison to intercept the
Lincoln. The Lincoln was conducting operations in unison as was
the Saratoga. However, the Saratoga's crew had not been informed.
It was several minutes before radio silence was broken.
"Whoa, this is Rattler, my Lidar screen just went all funky.
Must be due-" The transmission broke off in a burst of
static.
GreyWolf checked his port side to where his wingman should have
been. All he saw was a cloud of rapidly expanding gasses, which
was once his friend. A ghoulish black form was fast approaching
GreyWolf's craft. He gripped his flight yoke and pushed his craft
into a lateral barrel roll to port, just barely avoiding the
Chig's fire.
"Bandit on my Six! Check my Six!" GreyWolf yelled into
his comm.
One of his squad members pivoted his craft in space and opened up
with his laser cannons. Blue bolts of light cut through space and
directly into the center of the Chig fighter. The cannons had no
effect, the Chig simply placed its craft into roll and released
three pink, glowing spheres of energy. The Hammer head fighter
was able to juke around two of these flaming projectiles, but the
third found its mark. It struck the cockpit directly, instantly
killing the pilot and exploding the craft.
"This is Mongoose, I'm on his six." Although he could
not see the Mongoose, GreyWolf could almost hear the angry tears
streaming down her cheeks.
"Chew on this you Chig Bastard!" Mongoose launched a
pair of missiles at Von Richthofen's back.
Richthofen juked his craft to the port, easily dodging the
missiles. Mongoose rolled her craft to Starboard to try and avoid
the flack from Von Richthofen's rear gunnery turret. However, a
stray missile caught her port engine which spun her craft like a
child's top before finally exploding. Her escape pod ejected, but
it was impossible to know whether or not she survived the
explosion.
"It's payback time!" Asp was spouting rabid foam into
his flight helmet as he threatened.
"Don't do anything stupid! Keep your distance and hold your
fire for a few minutes. Give me a chance to get on his port side
and once I'm there start launching missiles!" GreyWolf was
at a near panic. His commanding officer had an ego to match
Richthofen's abilities but rarely displayed the skill to back it
up. The death of three of his crew was a major personal insult to
the Captain.
"Forget it! This Chig is mine! Just stay back and let me
slay the Chiggyman!"
Richthofen may not have heard the declaration but the lasers from
Asp's cannons were more than enough to convey the message. Asp
pulled his fighter directly behind Richthofen, skillfully dodging
the fire from the Chig's rear turret. Asp obtained an acceptable
distance and continued his deadly rebuttal. Undaunted, the Chig
accelerated his craft and pulled into a tight loop just barely
avoiding a collision with Asp. The Chig's rear turret fired a
single shot as the two craft passed, destroying the Hammer head.
GreyWolf's perspiration was increasing massively and at another
time and place he would have joked about drowning in his flight
helmet. This was hardly the time and place.
The Chig threw his craft into a lazy spiral and engaged GreyWolf
with a single minded intensity. Asp's explosion silhouetted his
craft and made the Chig appear as a vengeful demon flying from
the fires of hell. Richthofen locked onto GreyWolf and started a
systematic saturation of fire, while GreyWolf let off his own
deadly barrage.
The Chig menace veered off from the battle, sighting a new
target. Mongoose's escape pod still appeared to be intact and
Richthofen started taking pot shots at it with mocking
exaggeration. It was as if the Chig was trying to say "I'm
going to toast your Wingman and there's nothing you can do but
watch her die."
"That really chaps my butt!" GreyWolf exhaled in a
deadly whisper.
He was directly on the Chig's port side, close enough so that he
could read the ominous inscription: "Abandon All Hope".
He leveled his craft and stabbed at the cannon fire switch with
his right thumb. GreyWolf released the flight yoke with his other
hand and activated the wing-tip camera.
"Something for the universe to remember me by."
Cold blue light from his cannons lanced through space and towards
the Chig fighter. The only effect the cannon fire had was to
singe the paint of Dante's passage. Apparently it also singed Von
Richthofen's ego or at least caught his attention.
"That's it! Right here!"
The Chig Warrior, ignoring the escape pod, began to charge
GreyWolf, while attempting to batter the remaining Hammer head
with its eerie pink globes of energy. GreyWolf fired his own
cannon but he knew what Richthofen had planed for him. The Chig
was going to use the same near collision maneuver on him that he
had used on Asp. GreyWolf had a different plan in mind. The Chig
craft grew larger in his cockpit, still sputtering missiles in a
pathetic attempt to hit the human. As the two craft approached
each other GreyWolf readied his surprise. Richthofen was at point
black range and GreyWolf launched his missiles directly down the
Chig's throat. Or so he thought. The Chig simply spun out of the
way allowing the missiles to pass harmlessly into space. However,
Richthofen did not get a chance to fire with the rear turret.
"Come on, get some!" Rabid foam replaced the
perspiration in GreyWolf's helmet.
The human pivoted his craft and opened fire with his laser
cannons. His attack had no effect other then to singe the lone
Chig's paint job. GreyWolf then reversed the thrust of his
engines, coming directly up on Richthofen's six.
Richthofen's craft accelerated and pulled itself into a tight
loop as it had with Asp.
"Damn, and I'm out of missiles!"
There was still one thing he had up his sleeve that the Chig
would not be expecting. GreyWolf saturated the Chig craft with
icy blue laser fire, the Chig being unresponsive as ever. The two
craft neared collision and through the coldness of space he could
have sworn he heard the Chig's rear turret readying itself.
Instead of trying to avoid a collision, GreyWolf pulled up on his
Yoke and tried to cause one. His craft shot up directly into Von
Richthofen's flight path while presenting its underside to the
Chig. In a slightly panicked maneuver the Chig juked his craft to
the port, barely grazing the Hammer head.
"Hoo-rah!" Grey Wolf yelled insanely.
The Chig increased his speed and sent his craft into a jaunty
loop back towards the escape pod. A single missile was all it
took, the helpless object and its occupant were destroyed.
GreyWolf punched in his afterburner and attempted to chase the
Chig, spewing laser all the way. It was pointless, the Chig made
a small course correction, increased his speed and went home. It
still seemed as if Chiggy Von Richthofen was mocking him, daring
him but worst of all laughing at him.
Although for him that was months ago, the dreams remained just as
intense. There was no escaping the dead Chig baron, even in his
sleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The unforgiving black void hung in the window of his quarters.
The void that had claimed many of his friends and foe alike
throughout the war. If he listened hard enough sometimes he could
even hear the voices of the deceased. Today the voices were
silenced, his quarters noiseless. Maybe he just hadn't drunk
enough of his Grog yet.
The silence of space was shattered by the sound of blues chords
being strummed, the music paused only momentarily for a sip of
Grog. It was 2300 Zulu time, and everyone on board knew that this
was Commodore Ross's time. He sat at his desk, lazily crossing
his legs and facing his window. He enjoyed playing his guitar, he
liked to smash out the tunes to try and forget it all. Usually
playing helped him forget the war, he could just play and forget
about the A.I.s, the Chigs and most of all the responsibility he
had been given towards the men and women aboard the Saratoga.
Tonight, it was not working, no matter how furiously he strummed
"Rosalyn".
Over the centuries of human history humans have always believed
in "mythical beings from the sky". From the early gods
of ancient Greece to the U.F.O.s of the twentieth century they
have always been there. "We have been watching you ever
since you were in caves. That is all you will ever be." The
final words of the Chig envoy still haunted him, relentlessly.
During operation Neye'I one of his subordinates and friends had
posed a curious thought to Ross. The significance of what McQueen
had said, had been utterly lost on Ross. Operation Neye'I was an
attempt to feed the enemy dis-information about Operation
Roundhammer. McQueen had correctly guessed that the language in
which the dis-information was encoded with the Navajo language.
The American army encoded most of its high security documents in
this language during World War II because it was the only
language that the Germans could not decipher. McQueen had asked
"Why send the enemy documents in a language that even people
on Earth couldn't crack, unless we had prior knowledge that the
enemy could understand it."
At first, this seemed more like an indication that intelligence
had been doing their jobs. Intelligence somehow had known that
the Chigs could speak Navajo. "We have been watching you
since you were in caves."
Could the Chigs have possibly been watching the human race for
the duration of their history? Is that how they know the Navajo
language? How could the enemy have been watching for so long, yet
only be at a technological level close to what the humans have
now? And how could the humans possibly fight an enemy who had a
better idea of human history than even the humans themselves did?
There was only one man Ross turned to for guidance in a time such
as this. His friend, his mentor Colonel T.C. McQueen had been
taken from him by the Chigs. Although he was not killed the
"incident" with the Chig ambassador had left him in
critical condition. Ty was out of the war for at least a month.
He's probably making life a living hell for all of the doctors
and orderlies who are trying to help him.
Ross allowed himself a grim smile and another sip of grog. It
should have been me. I don't care what you think.
McQueen's torment goes far beyond a mere physical ailment. His
squadron, his kids were preparing for a possible Court Marshall
back on Earth. The survivors of the 58th at least. Three members
of the five eight had been killed in action in the battle for the
POWs. Wang, Vansen and Damphousse are thought to have been killed
by the Chigs, their funeral in only a matter of hours. No rescue
efforts were possible. The planet in which Vansen and Damphousse
had landed on was a moon orbiting the Chigs home-world. For them
there could be no hope. As for Wang, they could not even recover
the body for funeral. The APC which he had been on had floated
towards territory held by the Chig fleet, and Ross did not have
the men or power to waste. The remainder of the 58th, Nathan West
and Cooper Hawkes they were being tried for treason. They were
some of the finest and most dedicated marines Ross had ever been
fortunate enough to command, and there was no way he could let
them go. The Admiral who wanted to press charges was currently in
critical condition and was not expected to live. That gave Ross a
window of opportunity to aide the remaining 58th. In a time where
marines were in such short supply, it would be high treason to
discard two of the best soldiers and pilots Ross had ever met.
I'll be damned before I let Ty's kids hang for treason.
The 58th made a mistake, a stupid yet humanitarian mistake. On
deeper reflection Ross began to realize that the 58th could not
have been responsible for the enemy's knowledge of Operation
RoundHammer. The timing was just too wrong. According to the 58th
they had notified the Chig peasant about five minutes before they
were extracted on an ISSAPC. The Chig envoy preceded the ISSAPC
by about an hour. How could the Chig peasant possibly notify its
superiors, who would have to decide whether or not the 58th
warning was legitimate and then in turn be able to contact and
send a suitable envoy to the Saratoga battle group before the
58th was able to make it back? It simply was not possible. The
enemy must have had prior knowledge of RoundHammer in order for
the envoy to have been launched on time.
That would not have been the first time that the enemy has had
prior knowledge of a major Earth forces offensive. During the
attack on Demios the enemy had somehow known every move the
humans would make. The Chigs had removed their entire battle
fleet in order to ambush the Saratoga fleet. The WildCards made a
mistake but they are not the ones to blame for the enemy's fore
knowledge of RoundHammer. Either the Chigs have found a way of
intercepting and deciphering all Earth Forces battle plans or
there is a traitor in the Ranks.
A metallic clank came from the direction of his quarter's door.
"Who's at my hatch?" the commodore barked in the
direction of the intruder. The unwritten rule of the Saratoga was
that no one, under pain of death, shall disturb him during this
time.
"Lieutenant Anderson, sir. You ordered me to present you
with the reports on the Chig envoy incident as soon as
possible."
Ross quickly downed his glass of Grog and slammed it back down on
the table. He finally spoke after inhaling deeply.
"Enter!"
The lieutenant stepped into Ross's quarters and snapped his body
to full attention.
"At ease lieutenant. Now tell me, how did the Chig get the
bomb on board?"
The young lieutenant obviously new to this position swallowed
hard and began his report.
"Well, sir, the Chig's weapons appeared to our sweeps to be
part of the ambassador's environmental suit. The bomb was made of
a foreign alloy which our sensors could not detect as was the
knife. The details are in the report," the young officer
said while handing a clipboard to Ross.
"And what of the Chig's ship?" Ross sighed.
"It's, uh, dead, sir," the lieutenant stammered.
"What?" Ross flashed a harsh look at the young
Lieutenant.
"It just won't work, sir. The Chig's craft appears to have
melted in some way or self destructed. Because of the smell it's
creating our scientist seem to think that it's dead."
Ross's face hardened into an expression of pure rage. Was it
possible that the Chig was telling the truth? Then the whole war
could be the fault of Aerotech, Aerotech being, of course, one of
the largest military suppliers around. Money could not have been
the cause for such a genocidal conflict, could it? Business is
war but for Aerotech war was business.
On the other hand, the Chig came aboard the Saratoga armed with
both a knife and an explosive. How could anything the enemy had
said be treated as legitiment.? This so-called peace effort
looked more like an attempt to assassinate Areotech CEO E. Allan
Wayne than anything else. How long had the Chigs been watching?
The Chig's couldn't have been watching the humans for as long as
they said, it just didn't make sense. And what did E. Allan Wayne
know that made him such a prime target for the Chigs? The
"peace talks" were starting to look more and more like
an assassination attempt and a military stall than anything else.
He gripped his bottle of grog and swiveled around to face the
stars, this was going to be another long night. The lieutenant,
sensing that he was no longer needed, quickly backed out of the
Commodore's quarters.
"We have been watching you ever since you were in caves.
That is all you will ever be." The Chig's words slowly
seemed to waft into his quarters.
Legitiment or not, those words still scared the Hell out of him.
NeYe'I. Alien Gods.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
With a mechanical clank and the standard swish of compressed air
thirty marines in full dress uniform marched single file into the
loading bay. The marines then divided themselves into two
separate lines of fifteen people, one behind the other, their
navy colored uniforms adding life to the dull grey of the deck
plates. Among the gathering was Nathan West and Cooper Hawkes,
the only remnants of the once proud 58th squadron. The people
inside the loading bay were only a fraction of the people
gathered. All the observation windows surrounding the loading bay
were crammed with interested parties peering out at the scene.
Around the Saratoga those off duty were gathered around their
radios, and those still on duty were intently focused on the
ship's loud speaker. After all, this was no ordinary funeral,
this was a hero's send off.
There were three standard torpedoes at the front section of the
torpedo bay each with the American flag draped over the caskets.
The ship's Chaplain was present standing in front of the middle
three caskets, also in a standard navy uniform. Also present was
the commodore, Ross.
Ross made a small motion with his head and the Saratoga soon
reverberated with a call to attention.
"All hands, bury the dead." Ross barked to all present.
The chaplain leveled his bible and prepared himself to speak.
"Tonight we honor the lives and memories of those men and
women of the 58th squadron whose deaths were not in vain and
whose memories will stay with us forever, Captain Shane Vansen
and the Lieutenants Vanessa Damphousse and Paul Wang. We honor
their request for this special burial. Let us pray."
As if of one body and mind all Marines present bowed their heads
in silent reflection.
The chaplain continued.
"Oh Lord, we commit to Thee, the souls of Thy servants that
having departed this world they may live with Thee. And by the
grace of Thy merciful love, wash away the sins that they - in
human frailty - committed in the conduct of their lives.
Amen."
"Squadrons, Atten-hut!" Ross ordered those present. In
a single, explosive movement, the marines present snapped to
attention. Ross pulled a personal communications device to his
face.
"Ready, Aim, Fire!"
The Saratoga's main weapons emplacement rotated into position and
loosed twenty one rounds each sending a muffled boom-boom sound
throughout the ship.
When the guns became silenced Ross spoke once again.
"Lieutenants West and Hawkes." nodding in their general
direction.
Although no verbal orders were given they knew their duty well
enough. West stepped up to the casket on the right while Hawkes
proceeded to the casket on the left and Ross remained in front of
the center casket. Ross nodded once again and a single marine
armed with only a trumpet began to play "The last
post".
The marines once again as a unit lowered their heads in
reflection. West, Hawkes and Ross began to fold the flags over
the caskets, in traditional style. The flags were folded on
angles and when there was no more flag to fold, West, Hawkes and
Ross were left with triangles. Each of these flags was then
placed in a box containing the possessions of the deceased.
Ross and the remaining WildCards stepped back from the coffins
while a crew of six marine techs began to load the caskets into
the torpedo launcher.
"I now condemn these bodies to the void!" the Chaplain
spoke.
The lone trumpet player began his song anew while the caskets
slowly drifted into space. All marines present snapped to
attention and exploded in a salute to the dead. West's face
displayed obvious pain and through the salutes, if one looked
closely enough, a single tear began to meander down Hawkes's.
The trumpet player ceased and Ross took the podium once again.
"Colonel McQueen sends regrets that he can not be here
today, but although under intensive care he has written a small
farewell which he has requested that I read on his behalf."
Pulling out a piece of paper Ross began to read.
"These kids, my kids died the way they have always lived, as
heroes. I remember our first encounter was in a bar fight. I
didn't think much of them, they were undisciplined, rowdy and
they couldn't even stick together as a group. After the battle of
the belt, they began to show their true nature. They could stick
together, and fight together as a team. Soon their petty
rivalries gave way and they became the WildCards. They were true
friends and comrades. In the end they even gave their lives for
one another. I know that they are not all dead, and I wish the
best of luck to those who live. But this is War, and three of our
brightest lights have been extinguished. Remember them always as
the heroes and fighters they were. However remember there is also
a time to move on and even forget the past if it keeps you from
acting in the present. May they rest in peace."
Ross placed the paper onto the podium and removed a small blue
clay jar.
"In the even of his death Paul Wang made a special request
on behalf of himself and the 58th.This jar contains fingernail
clippings from each of the Wildcards both living and deceased.
They were taken before the 58th embarked onto what was thought as
a suicide mission, an offensive against the Chigs."
Ross paused for a moment before continuing, this time with a
bitter sweet smile.
"His request was that these remains be placed under the
pitcher's mound of Wrigley Field."
Hawkes and West both attempted to smile, however sadly.
"This request was considered yet thought to be somewhat
ghoulish by the stadium goers. However, a monument to those who
participated in the battle of Demios is being erected outside the
stadium, under which will be these remains."
"All hands, dismissed!" Ross ordered.
The marines began to form a single file line and proceeded to
depart from the funeral.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The door to the Wildcard's quarters unlocked with a metallic
clank, and a cheerless Commodore Ross entered.
"Attention on deck!" West commanded.
Both he and Hawkes exploded from their bunks and snapped to full
attention.
"At ease WildCards." Ross said in a slightly mournful
tone. West and Hawkes both shifted to ease.
"This will not be easy, but you've got a choice to make.
Admiral Stenner was hoping to ship you back to Earth to answer
for charges of high treason. However, due to the
"incident" with the Chig emissary, he is now en route
back to Earth, and is not expected to live. This gives me a bit
of room to work with," Ross explained.
Hawkes and West both exchanged surprised glances.
Ross continued.
"You were the best unit on the Saratoga both on ground or in
the sky. Despite your actions on Anvil, I still feel your among
the finest Earth has to offer and I'm willing to give you another
chance. You may remain aboard the Saratoga and fight as part of a
new unit or you will be sent home to be court-marshalled."
"I believe I speak for both of us, Sir, when..." West
began.
"However," Ross continued with a stern glance.
"Life aboard the Saratoga will not be easy for you. If you
stay, you may find yourself wishing for a court-marshall, because
from now on the Chigs aren't going to be the only ones who want a
piece of you. The crew knows you've been grounded but they do not
know why. I have tried to hold off the rumours about Anvil, but I
have a feeling it will get through soon. And when it does, it's
going to spread like wildfire."
The commodore did not have to explain this. Both of the remaining
WildCards realized the ramifications all too well.
"For both your sakes, I urge you to choose the
court-marshall, but for the well-being of the fleet, I need you
to stay." Ross paused.
West attempted to speak again but Ross silenced him with a look.
"Do not make any snap decisions, you'll only regret it.
You've got until tomorrow at 06:00 hours to inform me of your
decision."
Ross swivelled about and reached for the door, but West insisted
on speaking.
"Sir, I know I speak for the both of us. The decision you
ask us to make requires little time to think. We are marines and
it is our duty to stay."
West looked to Hawkes for confirmation.
"There ain't nothing for me back there," Hawkes stated.
Ross turned back and stared at them darkly.
"I respect your decision, I shall honor it, but you will
despise yourselves for making it. You have until 06:00 hours
tomorrow to change your mind, if not at this time you will be
reassigned. If you decide to remain report to the orientation
room at 08:00 hours."
"Thank you, sir." West sighed.
"So you say now," Ross smiled darkly at West.
Both Lieutenants saluted Ross, who in turn, mirrored the gesture.
Ross swivelled about and exited the room.
The two marines stood silently for two minutes after the
Commodore left and just as silently lay back down on their bunks.
The lifeless atmosphere continued for another five minutes before
one of them finally spoke.
"West?" Hawkes turned his head to address his friend.
"Yea?" West met Hawkes's gaze.
"Do you think they're still alive?" Sadness tinted the
young soldiers voice.
"Who?"
West knew perfectly well who his friend was talking about, he had
simply wanted to avoid this topic. Talking about his friends, his
dead friends, made him feel uneasy. Yet before, although it still
hurt, he could have easily have talked about his fiancee Kylen
Celina. Nathan had faith that she was still alive, he knew she
was. But West was convinced his friends were dead and that seemed
incredibly hypocritical of him. With the 58th West had gone
through many incredibly deadly situations and he and his friends
had come out alive every time. Every time he was in trouble, they
were there to back him up and vice versa. It seemed that he
should have faith in his friends on this one, but for some reason
he could not accept a chance that they could still be alive.
Maybe it was because in Vansen's final words she knew that she
was sacrificing herself. Maybe it was because somehow, in those
final words, she told him that not even faith could bring her
back.
"Vansen and Damphousse." Hawkes stated drearily. He was
too distracted in his own thoughts to notice his friend's
reluctance to talk.
West sighed deeply before speaking.
"I don't know Coop. Shane knew that she was signing her own
death warrant before she sent us away. The chances are that she
died on impact."
Hawkes's head sank in dismay.
"What if they survived the landing, what do you think their
chances would be?"
"Cooper, you know as well as I do where she landed. She's on
Anvil, celestial body 2064 k, the Chigs so-called "sacred
moon". If she survived the landing then she'll only have a
limited air supply. The only way she could survive for long is if
she surrenders to the Chigs. You know as well as I do, Vansen
would rather die. Let them go man. It's the only thing you can
do."
"What about Kylen, could you let go of her? If you could put
faith in her, why can't you put faith in the Captain and
Damphousse?"
West sadly shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"I do have faith in Shane, that's why I know she's probably
not alive. If she did survive the landing, surrender is the last
thing she's ever going to do. She'll either die of asphyxiation
or get killed by a Chig in hand to hand combat. It's no comfort,
but if it helps: they all died doing what they wanted to. Vansen
made a decision not to leave Damphousse, she wanted the colonists
to go home. Wang made a choice to cover our escape with the
cannon, not anyone else. The point is that they died the way they
wanted to, heroically. Most people don't get that kind of a
chance, or choice. You just have to let go and get on with your
life, no regrets or sooner or later there won't be a point in
living any more." West shook his head, chiding himself
internally. How could he expect Hawkes to let go of his lost
friends if he himself could not even do it?
"She can't be dead." Hawkes shook his head in
disbelief.
West flashed his friend a questioning look.
"Neither can Damphousse or even Wang. It just doesn't feel
right! We've been through so much together and we've done the
impossible. We were all fighting in the battle of the belt, and
we all lived through it. Each of us went toe to toe with Chiggy
Von Richthofen twice and lived. The 58th, us, on Demios had
survived six months alone with no food supply and zero back up.
After going through all that I had never even considered this
happening to us! I thought there were only two things that could
happen to the 58th on a mission. Either we kick some major Chig
butt or we die, all of us together! I never even thought that
some of us would make it and some wouldn't. It just wasn't
possible, shouldn't be possible." Angry tears were streaming
down Cooper's face.
"They were the closest people I ever had to being
family," Hawkes grieved.
Silence reigned for the next couple of minutes.
"We'd better hit the lights Coop, it's going to be a big day
tomorrow." West said softly.
"Yea.... Yea I guess you're right."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
At oh eight hundred exactly, the two remaining Wildcards reported
to the orientation room. However, they were not alone, four other
people occupied the room as well. Hawkes and West took the
remaining seats and tried to settle in. Obviously no one in the
room knew anyone else, the lack of conversation was proof of
this. Whatever words exchanged ceased with the entrance of the
Cards. As they walked in they were met with cold stares and angry
glares, with only a few non-threatening glances.
"I'm starting to think Boss Ross was right," Hawkes
whispered to West.
The Cards were saturated with such looks for over six minutes
before their new Commanding Officer (CO) entered the room.
"Ten-hut!"
All of the people in the room flung themselves from their seat
and snapped to attention.
A man in standard Marine Corps attire stepped up to the podium.
He had grey blond hair in tight curls and slate grey eyes to
match. He also had a mustache which connected to a small goatee.
The colonel was a large man by any scale, either height or
weight. He stood 6'3 tall and weighed roughly 200 pounds, all of
it muscle. Observing the thin, angular face of the Colonel,
Hawkes saw that it betrayed anger. When Hawkes made eye contact,
he saw no anger and no emotions period.
"Okay, I'm Colonel Dembicki, your new CO. Welcome to your
new squadron, the 58th. This squadron is no longer to be known as
the WildCards but as the Vagrants. The Wildcards we knew all died
on Anvil, if only in spirit, when they compromised
RoundHammer." The Colonel addressed his marines as he paced
back and forth while inspecting them, eye to eye.
Hawkes's face immediately darkened and unconsciously, his teeth
became barred. The Colonel, noticing Hawkes's change in moods
ceased his inspection and stepped up to Hawkes, stretching
himself to his full height. The Colonel pushed his face five
centimeters away from Hawkes's and began to stare him down. After
eight seconds of such torment the Colonel spoke.
"What's the matter? I hurt your feelings, Tank?" The
Colonel said, literally breathing the words into Hawkes's
nostrils.
Hawkes felt his face begin to burn and felt the demand from his
clenching fists for a piece of the Colonel. He crouched and began
to spring when a stern grip from West caught him on the
shoulders.
"Well please, don't break your mutinous/ treasonous streak
on account of me!" the Colonel sneered.
Hawkes uttered a low growl under his breath but West was able to
keep him in place.
"If it wasn't for you, I could be at home now, with my wife
and kids after kicking some Chig butt at Roundhammer! All of us
could! But you had to screw it up for us all at Anvil! What the
hell were you thinking? You saw an alien who was wearing some
kind of obviously manufactured garment, on a Chig-occupied planet
and it didn't once occur to you that it could be a Chig? Since it
doesn't shoot you, you automatically assume it wasn't a Chig and
decided to tell it Earth's most secretive battle plans? The fate
of our very race was in your hands and all you could do was play
humanitarian on the assumption that the thing you encountered
wasn't a Chig! If all of the WildCards were so bloody stupid then
no wonder you all didn't die while trying to rescue the
colonists."
The Colonel was yelling at him with all the strength and power he
could muster but when Hawkes stared at the Colonel's eyes he
still saw the same apathetic gaze. This surprise was all that
stopped Hawkes from removing his CO's jugular with his teeth.
However, Hawkes could feel that even West was begging to lose
control.
Just as quickly and ferociously as the colonel attacked Hawkes he
changed targets to a red haired female who was viewing the
WildCards with utter contempt.
"What the hell are you looking at? They're not the only ones
to screw up in this War. It's because you chickened out on your
squadron back on Tantelas. You've all done something to screw up,
to get your squadron killed and that's why you're here. The old
man has found the mercy in his heart to give you all a second
chance through the formation of this squadron. I suppose that
you'll all want time on the ship's simulators to test your
collective strengths and weaknesses. We do not have the time to
give you, thanks to the screw up on Anvil. We need all available
personnel ready for action as soon as possible, and however
unbelievable that includes you. In two days from now at 07:00
hours you will be flying your first collective patrol and after
that you will all be placed on the fully active roster. After
this briefing you will move your gear into the quarters once
occupied by the 58th, there you will familiarize yourselves with
one another. Although I could not care less what happens to you
maggots, it would be wise to communicate your strengths and
weaknesses as soon as possible. Your lives, and any chance of
redemption you've got may depend on it."
The Colonel paused to eyeball his troops once again.
"In two days from now at 06:00 hours exactly I expect you to
be here for briefing. Got that?"
As a unit the Marines saluted and marched off.
Hawkes and West both lay back in their bunks, mentally preparing
themselves for the 58th's replacements.
"Ray Butts relived," Hawkes remarked.
Raymond T. Butts was once the commanding officer of the 58th for
approximately one week. In the time that he knew the WildCards he
was able to single out and alienate every one of them in some
way. Although the squadron was convinced that he hated them,
Butts ended up committing suicide by flying into a black hole to
save them.
West grinned in mournful amusement at his friend's statement.
"Yea, but Butts was angry at the Chigs, We could co-exist as
long as we were both killing Chigs. This new guy, Dembicki, seems
convinced that we are the enemy. I think he'd just as soon be
shooting at us as he would the Chigs. It seems that WE are the
ones who pushed Dembicki over the edge."
"Did you get a chance to look him in the eye while he was
busy chewing me out?" Hawkes asked with surprising
curiosity.
"No, I was too busy trying to hold you back." West
smirked to himself.
"Why?" he then asked, realizing his friends curiosity.
"I know he was yelling and he sounded pretty POed and all
but when I looked him straight in the eyes..." Hawkes's
voice trailed off into nothingness.
"What?" West asked with intensity.
"I don't know. I didn't see nothing. I looked but I saw no
anger, no bloodlust no satisfaction... no nothing. It was like
the guy had no emotions and he was just saying everything because
he had nothing better to do."
West was only able to manage a curious look when their discussion
was interrupted by the metallic clank of their door lock. With
the standard hissing of air, one of their new squadron mates
walked in. He was approximately 6'2 in height and was of a thin,
but athletic build. There was a shaggy mop of dark brown hair on
his scalp and matching brown eyes. His face was thin and slightly
angular, his eyes were slightly red from too much action and not
enough sleep. On his flight suit were two squadron patches, one
for the 136th squadron and the other was for the 18th squadron.
It seemed a lot of squadrons for one to have been in for some one
who was a year younger than either of the wildcards. The
bitterness and experience was reflected in the face of this young
lieutenant.
The pilot walked in and set his gear down with only a small bit
of hesitation.
"Hey, the name's William Saunders. I guess you're Nathan
West and Cooper Hawkes." he said nodding to each
respectively.
"Yea, you don't seem too happy to be stuck with this
detail," West said with a smirk. He was surprised with his
own boldness but he expected anyone who was about to join the
58th these days would be much more "aggravated".
"I can't remember the last time I was happy but I'm pretty
damned sure that it was before this war. For me, it seems that
bitter is the norm. If I show any other emotion, you should
probably start to panic. Watch your six around me, I may seem
like a normal guy now, but when I get in a firefight with the
Chigs, I turn psycho. Still, I guess I'm happier than most would
nowadays to be stuck with this assignment. There aren't many
people out there who still respect the name WildCards."
Saunders sighed slightly.
"Are there any free bunks in here?" The newcomer asked.
"Up there," West pointed to the bunk above his own.
"Sure, thanks." Saunders began to toss his gear up and
climbed into the bunk.
"What do you mean?" Hawkes asked. It seemed to him that
the new marine was one of the few marines who didn't want the
WildCards burned at the stake.
"What? You mean what do I mean by saying
"thanks"?" Saunders grinned.
"No, I mean that stuff you said before about not many people
respect the name WildCards anymore."
"I thought it was pretty obvious. I mean after what you guys
did on Anvil..."
"No, I know that. But you seemed to imply that you still did
respect the name WildCards." Hawkes interrupted.
"Oh yea, that. Let's put it this way, you guys screwed up
big while you were down there, and many people wouldn't think
there's redemption for something like that. Then again I'm not
many people." Saunders paused to smirk.
West and Hawkes looked at him with sudden interest.
"The 'Cards have an almost perfect War record, and you guys
have made it through some awesome scraps before. Besides you were
the first ones to even attempt an offensive against the Chigs.
You screwed up on Anvil by playing humanitarian but you're still
damn good marines."
Hawkes gave him a look of pure surprise while West simply smiled.
It was nice to know that the WildCards still had some friends on
board. There was a brief pause during which Saunders began to
unpack.
"Look like you've seen some action." Hawkes stated,
trying to make conversation out of what seemed to be a slightly
awkward pause. This new guy seemed too quiet, and for the first
time in his seven years of life Hawkes began to feel
uncomfortable with a sudden silence.
Saunders answered with a slightly puzzled look.
"Your uniform," Hawkes nodded in Saunders direction.
"Oh, Yea. The squadron patches," Saunders paused to
smile. "My last squadron the 18th died on Ixion, I was the
only survivor," his smile quickly faded.
"How did that happen?" West was doing the questioning
this time.
"There was a Chig attack on our camp and we all got
separated. I tagged along with the 52nd squadron for the rest of
that battle and when it was over..." he paused again and
shook his head. "I heard that none of them died during the
attack that separated us. They all got separated and were divided
into different units and one by one they were picked off by the
Chigs. Like I said in the end I was the only one left."
Saunders was no longer smiling or smirking in any form. The loss
of his friends still hurt him, but not nearly as much as the loss
of his first squadron.
"What happened to your first squadron?" West asked.
Saunders looked up but his response was cut off. The metallic
clank and hissing of the hatch announced the presence of two more
newcomers to the squadron. A woman and a man both walked in each
wearing the squadron patch of the 70th squadron.
The man was a 6'4 Afro-American with a tremendous build. He was
about 270 pounds of pure muscle and a had a shaved head. His
presence seemed intimidating until one noticed the wrinkles
caused by many smiles. The woman, a captain, was almost her
friends exact opposite. Her skin was a very pale white almost
like that of a China doll. She had shoulder length black hair and
ruby red lips, the colors of each made more intense by the
paleness of her skin. She was about 5'8 and of a fairly small
build, although no one doubted her ability as a warrior after
seeing the many battles she had participated in.
The woman was the first to speak.
"I'm the new squad leader Captain Tina Pearson. Let's get
one thing straight here. Don't ask about my past and I won't ask
about yours. I don't much care who you are, as if I don't already
know, and what you've done. All I need to know is your names and
hopefully we can live together long enough to be able to have a
couple of stiff drinks together. Until then let's, just try and
forget what we've all done and concentrate on what we can
do," she spoke trying to keep her voice at level tones and
barely succeeding.
Hawkes eyed her carefully, getting a much different message from
her than he did from Saunders.
West just continued to lie on his bunk, not knowing what to make
of his new leader. Either she was angered at the 'Cards for what
they did on Anvil and was trying to offer them peaceful
coexistence or she was angered by what they did on anvil and
wanted to prevent herself from lashing out at them long enough to
get transferred.
The woman claimed the nearest empty bunk and began to unpack.
With a slightly worried look the man stepped into the WildCard's
domain.
"Um, Hi, I'm Jensen Michaels. Despite what the Captain said,
she's not really that bad and neither am I. But I guess there
aren't many people who are overjoyed with the 58th right now. I
recognize you two..." he said nodding towards Hawkes and
West. "... but I don't know you." he nodded to
Saunders.
"Hey, the name's William Saunders. Just do not call me
Bill!" Saunders reached out from his bunk to shake hands
with Jensen.
"Why not?" he asked, smiling.
"You have to ask? There's just something about being called
Bill that makes me feel about thirty years older. Just call me
Saunders, I like that better," Saunders said, giving a bit
of a sarcastic smile.
"Okay, Saunders then," the Jensen said with a smile. He
then pointed to a photograph of a football player on West's bunk.
"Football fan, huh? I never really thought much of the Bears
but I still don't recognize the player." He tossed his gear
onto the bunk above Pearson's.
West grinned for a moment before answering.
"He's no football player, he's one of the 58th or at least
he was." West said, partially loosing his grin.
"That's Wang right?"
"Yea, you much of a football..."
His response was cut off due to the latest arrival. Another woman
about 6'0 walked in. Her waist length hair was as much ablaze as
the ferocity in her blue eyes. She was of a medium build, mostly
muscle although she had a slightly rounded face. A patch on her
uniform showed her to be from the 94th squadron.
The woman walked towards the WildCard's insignia on the wall.
"WildCards: expect no mercy." She read the sign.
Hawkes and West exchanged curious glances,. You did not need to
be a genius to figure out that something was wrong here.
"Expect no mercy, my ass!." the arrival spat on the
sign.
"Trouble?" Hawkes mouthed to West.
"Yea.... big trouble." West mouthed back.
"I think I'd better lay off the cabbage for a little
while.," Hawkes whispered.
"Uh, yea," West's reply came quickly.
She seemed to become more furious then she realized that the only
free bunk in the room was above Hawkes. She tossed her gear up
and quickly followed. An awkward silence soon followed.
"Hey, my name's Jensen Michaels, I was of the 70th squadron.
You are?" he said, attempting pleasant or at least civilized
conversation.
She turned around, giving Jensen a look colder than liquid
oxygen.
"Ann Fairbanks. I don't do small talk, I don't do pleasant
conversation and I don't do treason. I kill the enemy, which from
my point of view is anything non-human. Anything else?" The
fact that she spoke only in quiet hissing tones was probably the
most threatening thing of all.
Even Jensen, being the incredible hulk of a man that he was,
shivered under the gaze of the 58th's newest lieutenant. There
was an awkward silence following this attempted conversation, in
which the newcomers began to unpack.
"I guess we've got a lot of simulator work to do,"
Captain Pearson sighed.
Every member of the 58th began to file out of the barracks,
except for Saunders who remained behind a couple of minutes to
hang some pictures.
Both pictures were of a Chig craft with a human skull painted on
the front and the inscription "Abandon All Hope" on its
side. One of these pictures was a side view and the other looked
to be from a straight-on charge. Both of these pictures showed
the Chig to be under heavy laser fire from behind the camera.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was finally dead at last. After so many close calls, after so
many lives taken she was finally dead. But what kind of after
life was this? She was in a lonely black void, no sight, no
smell, no nothing. A new sensation began to tingle her nerves,
and seconds later, to overwhelm them. Pain, she was in pain. She
realized that she was not dead, she could still feel pain.
It felt as if her ribs were broken, and that her leg had been
deeply cut. She could feel her blood slowly trickling out of an
open wound on her forehead. She also had a bad case of whiplash.
She was delirious, drifting in and out of consciousness, but
despite it all, Shane Vansen fought it, in order to open her
eyes.
She found that she could not move her body yet, but she did not
think she was paralyzed. Vansen could feel too much pain across
her body for that. At least she could look around. Vansen was
still in the cockpit of the ISSAPC that she had crashed on the
planet. She knew she had crashed on the planet known as Anvil,
and she could tell that the cockpit was still intact by the fact
that she was not choking to death on the local methane
atmosphere. Mentally she knew she had to get a breather pack on
and get out of the cockpit before the Chigs came to find the
wreckage, but her body didn't want to respond.
Vansen looked over and noticed that the co-pilot's chair was
occupied. It was Damphousse and by inspection Vansen could not
tell whether she was dead or merely unconscious. At first Vansen
could barely move, the pain was making her nauseous, but the more
she moved, the easier it seemed to become. She removed her flight
gloves and stretched her arm out in order to check Damphousse's
pulse. Shane breathed a large sigh of relief, Damphousse was
alive it seemed, and she wanted to keep it that way. Shane
unbuckled her flight harness and moved slowly to the rear of the
cockpit where she opened the emergency storage compartment.
From it she removed two breather packs and two faceplates for the
helmets. She geared up both herself and Damphousse and went back
for more supplies. Movement was incredibly difficult due to the
fact that she had a six inch gash in her inner right thigh about
half an inch deep. Regardless she limped on. From the supply
compartment she retrieved a first aide kit, a week's worth of
rations (served by injection), and weapons. However, the APC
supply kit was incomplete, the only weapons inside were the
standard Marine K-bar instead of any fire-arms. For the next
couple of minutes she worked on her wounds and Damphousse's with
the first aid kit and then sealed their flight suits with the
suit sealant located with the first aide-kit.
She had just loaded these supplies into a back pack, when she
heard a metallic sounding tap at the APC's hatch.
"Aw the hell with it," Vansen sighed as she unsheathed
her K-bar.
If the Chigs really thought she was a threat they would have
blown up the APC by now. They wanted to take her prisoner, but
there was no way in hell that she was going to let herself be
taken as a Chig prisoner. Not this time, never again. Vansen was
not going to die without a fight though.
She readied her K-bar and opened the hatch using what was left of
the APC's emergency battery supply. As the hatch rose she poised
her body to leap at her aggressors. However, it was her own
surprise that kept her rooted to the ground. Speechless and slack
jawed she stared in an awed horror at the sight that awaited her.
The first thing she saw were the words G.I. GeeQued, and she then
noticed the comic book that they were attached to, Hawkes's comic
book. Vansen then noticed, through the thick methane atmosphere,
the Chig behind the comic book, holding it up as if it were a
shield. However, this was not a Chig in full battle armor, and as
far a she could tell this was the Chig she had left a week
earlier.
Both beings stared slack jawed at the other, until the Chig
pointed at Vansen and Damphousse and then pointed towards the
dense jungle. Okay, the Chig wanted to play follow the leader, it
was not as if she had anything better to do. Vansen sheathed her
K-bar and picked up her backpack and tried to drag Damphousse
over her shoulder. The Chig was intelligent enough to try an help
Vansen. Comic book tucked under its arm the Chig supported
Damphousse's left side while Vansen took her right.
Together the unlikely trio began to make their way into the
jungle.
Vansen figured she could be walking willingly straight into an
ambush but it did not look like she had much of a choice.
Soon the all too familiar catacomb-like Chig hatchery replaced
the dense green canopy of the jungle. The eerie yellow globes
were the only lights to be found. If the Chigs were going to
ambush them their Nursery seemed like an odd place to do it. The
Chig lead them through the winding tunnels of the nursery, taking
so many twist and turns Vansen soon lost track of which way they
had come.
Finally, when they had reached a small barren cavern about ten
meters in circumference, the Chig stopped. It then spent for what
seemed like forever curiously examining Vansen and Damphousse.
For Shane, this seemed like the end of the road, so she carefully
lay Damphousse down and took a seat herself.
The Chig opened the comic and pointed at a space battle scene and
then pointed at the two humans. Vansen tried to smile and nod but
she had no idea how she was supposed to communicate the
affirmative with this Chig. However, she could understand the
Chig's body language to some degree. It seemed that the Chig was
extremely uncomfortable with something. Vansen thought it may
have something to do with the blood which had seeped onto her
flight suit, apparently Chigs disliked the smell of human blood.
They sat in the cave like that, unable to communicate for several
more minutes. Then, without warning the Chig bolted upright, and
stood motionless. It then began to scurry in the direction of the
entrance to the chamber. Vansen touched the Chig on the shoulder
reminding it that it was not polite to leave guests unattended.
The Chig shivered with surprise and turned its head quickly as if
in a panic. It then let out what seemed to be a Chig equivalent
of a sigh of relief.
The Chig flipped open the comic book once again, but this time it
pointed at a picture of a live Chig soldier and then pointed to
the entrance. It then pointed at the humans and pointed at the
ground. To Vansen the message seemed clear, stay down and shut
up. The Chig caretaker then scurried off through the cave.
Vansen looked back at Damphousse and felt that she was safe
enough in here, the more immediate threat seemed to come from the
Chigs outside. She unsheathed her K-bar and followed the Chig as
stealthily as she possibly could. Vansen did not have to follow
too far though, she soon came to the lip of a large chamber full
of the Chig's young. In the center of the chamber were five armed
Chigs, one of them seemed to be decorated in red indicating a
high rank. What happened next unnerved her more than anything she
had seen in the war.
The Chig "pediatrician" and the "Officer"
began what sounded like an argument, communicating with loud
clicking sounds, much louder than any Chig communication she had
heard before. Without warning the Chig officer withdrew its
sickle shaped blade and buried it in the caretaker's head. The
small army then proceeded to mutilate the Chig in the same
fashion they mutilated most human bodies.
Vansen did not want to stay and watch, she broke into a stealthy
sprint, back tracking her route. She had to get 'Phousse and they
had to made an exit before the Chigs got to them. As she rounded
the last corner she found she was too late, there were already
three Chigs surrounding Damphousse's body.
K-bar in hand, she prepared herself for a wild charge at the
Chigs.
"Damned if they take me without a fight!" she thought
to herself.
She leaped but was tackled bodily by a Chig soldier, knocking her
off her feet and disarming her. She tried to struggle but two
more came and pinned her down. There would be no escape from this
one.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Commodore Ross was sitting in the Officer's briefing room on the
Saratoga, alone with many recently promoted officers. The Chig's
assassination of E. Allan Wayne had killed many more people than
just the intended target, leaving room for more ambitious
officers to flourish.
"Gentlemen..." Admiral Spaulding began the meeting.
"It is clear now that the Chig's peace attempt was nothing
more than an assassination of E. Allan Wayne and a diversion. The
Chigs have pulled back enough ships to planet 2064 k, so that
operation RoundHammer may not continue. Apparently the enemy has
also seen through the spoof at Hera, intelligence indicates that
those Chigs are going to descend on Ixion in less than a week,
thereby cutting of all hope of re-supply and reinforcements. The
Chig fleet has not yet arrived on the Chig's home world but they
will be in position to defend it within two days. If we struck
with RoundHammer, we might be able to take Anvil but we would not
be able to hold it for very long. Our orders are clear, we are to
fall back to Ixion and prepare to defend it, because if Ixion
goes, then so does our path to the Chig's front door."
There were muffled agreements from all over the room. To
Commodore Ross, one thing seemed obvious, the WildCard's could
not have betrayed this much of RoundHammer with a mere comic
book. The enemy had prior knowledge of RoundHammer and were now
exploiting it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Chigs held her down until the leader arrived, and once it
did, it stared intently into both of their faceplate. The leader
eventually spoke, and the soldiers began to carry Damphousse and
Vansen out of the Chig nursery. A standard Chig ground APC was
waiting for them, and the humans were loaded in at gunpoint.
The APC soon was thrown into motion and the humans were locked in
a compartment at the back. Vansen sat, facing a window deep in
thought. What had just happened? Why was that Chig nanny killed?
Why did it even bother helping them in the first place?
Vansen shook her head in frustration. Chigs were not supposed to
kill each other. The Chig bomber the 58th had captured died as
soon as it tried to attack its point of origin. Hawkes had even
once told her that he attempted to use a Chig's weapon, but it
would not fire at other Chigs. The weapon only fired when it was
pointed at his own foot. The Chigs were not supposed to kill each
other, but what she had just witnessed seemed to say something
else entirely. She continued to stare out the window, while the
Chig's green landscape flew past.
Vansen was startled by a soft moaning sound from behind her. She
only smiled and turned around.
"Welcome back to consciousness," Vansen said.
Damphousse gave another soft moan before she was fully able to
speak.
"Where.... where are we?"
Vansen let off a long sigh and then smiled tightly and sadly.
"The Chigs got us," Vansen held up the comic book and
explained what had happened with the Chig nanny.
Damphousse wanted to respond but was in too much constant pain to
think clearly.
"What about the others?" Damphousse asked in shallow,
rasping breaths.
"They're fine. Before I lost contact they told me there were
no more Chigs in the area. West and Wang were able to hook up
with the colonists before I left." Vansen attempted a weak
smile.
Vansen truly had no idea what had happened with her friends. All
she could do was smile and lie straight faced to Damphousse. This
would definitely be the wrong time to say anything that could
upset her.
"Good... good, I think I'll just go back to sleep now."
Damphousse gave a lazy smile before she slipped back into
unconsciousness.
About an hour later it seemed as if the APC had reached its
destination. Vansen and the still unconscious Damphousse were led
out of the APC at gunpoint once again. As Vansen looked around
she realized her ride was not over yet. A Chig space craft
awaited her up ahead and the Chigs were herding her and
Damphousse towards an open hatch. As she walked into the gaping,
black maw of the ship she took one last look around and wondered
if her friends truly were okay.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Okay, from the simulations we were able to assign wingmen
based on ability. Once you engage the enemy, you will divide up
into these pairs and fight using a basic bracketed attack. The
pairs are West and Saunders, Hawkes and Fairbanks and Michaels
and Pearson. I want your wheels up in ten mikes. Let's
move!"
Colonel Dembicki just finished outlining the patrol to the new
58th, peppering each of them with a record number of derogatory
statements per paragraph.
Hawkes and West exchanged glances, but neither had time to ask
why the WildCards were being split up.
"Oh yea, and West, try not to tell the enemy we're coming
this time," Dembicki called out as the squadron filed out of
the orientation room.
The 58th quickly marched down to the flight deck and found the
proper fighters. They each climbed into their cockpits and
strapped their flight helmets on. "Lets get GeeQued!"
Hawkes yelled as his cockpit began the engagement sequence.
The squadron was quickly launched from the Saratoga and they
began the standard patrol to their first way point. The fighters
broke up into a standard V formation around Michaels with Pearson
taking up the front.
"This is Gorgon, begin sound off," the Captain
initiated the first check.
"This is King of Hearts, standing by," West gave his
response.
"This is Jack of Spades, ready to rock," Cooper gave
his response.
"This is GreyWolf, rabid as ever," Saunders checked in.
"This is Phoenix, standing by," Fairbanks gave her
reply, sounding as if she were trying to control her temper.
"This is Zeus, let's fly," Michaels concluded the sound
off.
Two hours later the 58th was still on patrol but they had
encountered no enemy presence. Cruising in the silence of space,
Hawkes was beginning to hear lullabies in his head.
"Okay guys listen up. Boss Ross is calling us back home,
apparently we're moving out soon."
"I guess the Chigs have found something better to do today
than to try and harass the Saratoga," GreyWolf shrugged.
Proximity alarms began to go off shattering the silence and
instantly waking Cooper up.
"This is Jack of Spades, Chigs are swarming down on our
six!"
"This is GreyWolf: Confirmed, looks like fifteen or so,
think we can take 'em?" Saunders flipped the safeties off
his cannon, anticipating the reply.
"Okay guys, remember, bracketed attack, stick with your
Wingman!" Gorgon's reply came.
"Lock and Load!" West said.
He pivoted his craft in space, launching two missiles at the
Chigs. He was quickly gratified with two luminous explosions. He
pivoted his craft back to its normal position and began to juke
hard right as the Chigs began to open fire.
"I've got it hot on my six!" West yelled to his
wingman.
"Turn your craft right about twenty five degrees and then
juke hard left. I'll take 'em there!" GreyWolf was ready to
back him up.
West complied with the instructions and barely avoided a
collision with GreyWolf by juking left. Once passt West, GreyWolf
opened up on the Chigs with his cannon, and was momentarily awed
by the cold, blue fire which poured out. The three Chig's
exploded into fiery orange clouds.
Hawkes had followed in tight on GreyWolf's tail and broke off
when the he saw his first Chig. He gripped his fire control with
one hand and depressed the stud. The Chig was instantly consumed
by cannon fire.
Unfortunately Hawkes had failed to notice the three Chig's
waiting for him to be caught alone. As the pink globes of energy
burned past his cockpit, Cooper began to juke hard left. The
Chigs were on him tight, one of them was attempting for a missile
lock.
"I'm taking fire! They're too tight on my six, I can't shake
'em! " Hawkes yelled into his mike.
Hawkes juked hard right and tried to pull up at the same time. He
hit the auto-fire option on his flight stick, and his rear-turret
opened up with laser fire, but to no avail. He check his Lidar
screen this time but his wingman, Phoenix, was nowhere to be
found.
"They've locked onto me!" Hawkes yelled to his
invisible Wingman.
He quickly dropped some chaff and pulled up. The chaff quickly
expanded, trying to make itself a more tempting target than the
SA-43 fighter. It worked, this time. The missile exploded,
harmlessly in the chaff, but Cooper's problems were not over yet.
"West, I need cover, my Wingman's gone AWOL!" Hawkes
screamed as more pink globes blazed passed his cockpit.
"Just hang on, man! I'll be there!" West turned his
fighter in order to help his friend.
He checked his Lidar and saw that Cooper had gone too far out of
range. West could not catch up with him without using his after
burners, and he did not have enough fuel to do that.
"Hawkes, can you try and make it back this way?" West
asked, desperately attempting to help his friend.
"Not without getting a missile up my butt!" Hawkes
yelled in near panic.
"GreyWolf, I'm out of missiles, do you have any left?"
"Yea, sure, you need me to help Hawkes?"
"That's the idea!"
GreyWolf locked onto the Chigs with his missiles and fired. He
visually tracked the missiles to the point where they exploded.
Both of the Chig fighters had been destroyed, but there was still
a third one out there.
"Hoo-Rah, Rack up two more for GreyWolf!" he yelled
with obvious satisfaction.
"Coop, there's still one more on your six, can you handle
him?"
There was no verbal reply. Hawke's plan pivoted on the spot
sending a missile into the final Chig.
"What? You couldn't have done that all alone?" GreyWolf
asked jokingly.
"Yea sure, I could have taken the first two, but the last
one would have eaten me alive." Hawkes sighed. They did not
get much closer than that.
"What I want to know is where the hell did my wingman
go?" Hawkes asked, suddenly remembering to be angry.
"This is the Gorgon, our area is clear. Let's head
home," the captain's calm voice came over the mike.
"Where's Phoenix? She was supposed to be covering me!"
Hawkes yelled in frustration.
"She's with us, she said you told her to engage the enemy in
groups of three. We're going to have to have a little chat about
the chain of command when we get back.," Captain Pearson was
obviously starting to fume at Hawkes.
"But..."
"Can it!" Pearson yelled silencing all discussion.
The fighters flew in the HBDL and the cockpits began to rise into
the flight-deck with the customary mechanical whir.
As soon as his cockpit was open, Hawkes tore off his flight
helmet and disconnected himself from his fighter. He literally
threw his flight helmet back under his canopy and stomped towards
Fairbanks who was dismounting her fighter.
"Where the Hell..." Hawkes began to yell but was cut
off as Fairbanks brushed past him.
He grabbed her shoulder and she pivoted about.
"Who the Hell do you think..." Hawkes began anew.
As she pivoted about Fairbanks side swiped Hawkes in the head
with her flight helmet, dropping him. Hawkes fell not because of
the strength of the blow, but more because it surprised him. As
soon as he hit the ground Fairbanks began to scream and
repeatedly kick him in the ribs.
"Bloody tank traitor!" she screeched as she attacked.
West leaped from his cockpit, tackling her to the ground.
She was still kicking and screaming as security personnel tried
to drag her away.
West offered Hawkes a helping hand, in which he gladly accepted.
"You okay, man?" West asked.
Cooper was still rubbing the sore spot on his head where he
stood.
"Yea ,sure... fine.... absolutely peachy.... why do you
ask?" Cooper said sarcastically.
Saunders looked back to the entrance of the hangar and noticed
Colonel Dembicki leaning against the wall with his arms folded
across his chest. He could not help but wonder why Dembicki had
not stepped in by now.
"Come on, man. We'd better get those ribs looked at,"
West said.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the dark, in the silence Paul Wang lay, hearing nothing but
the sound of his own heart beat. He knew he was not dead because
this sure as hell was not Wrigley field. Besides it hurt to much
to be death. What scared him more than the hurt and the pain was
the places where he could not feel anything at all. It felt as if
he was missing whole portions of his body. It did not feel right
when he inhaled either.
A familiar voice broke the silence.
"Are you guilty of War Crimes Wang, Paul?"
"Yes, yes I am" Wang heard himself wail.
"Welcome back on-line Wang Paul. I have waited a very long
time to meet you," the voice continued to speak.
"I can't see, my eyes... there's something wrong," Wang
rasped.
"You can't do many things right now Wang Paul, but you can
see. Lights please." The grey cell was illuminated around
him and Wang's eye slowly came into focus. He was horrified to
realize he only had one eye, but he could not even feel the right
half of his face. He could see his legs, but he could not move
those either. Out of desperation, Wang attempted to move his
arms, but could not. All he could do was move his neck, and
speak.
As he looked around the room he noticed a disgustingly familiar
Silicate standing three meters in front of him. It was Elroy-L,
the AI that had tortured Wang in to submission on two separate
occasions, the first time physically and the second time
mentally. This time Elroy was holding a gun.
"What is this?" Wang rasped.
"Well, Wang Paul, I've got a little bit of a vendetta to
settle with you. I had done some truly excellent work lately and
my employers thought that I deserved an extra-special reward for
my efforts. You are that reward. Don't you remember how you so
bravely sacrificed yourself for your friends and then the
"Chig" fighter struck the side of your APC?" Elroy
spoke, his tone, slightly taunting.
Wang remained silent.
"The APC was sheared in two, and you're lucky the emergency
bulk-heads were able to close in time. For once it was the
multiple redundancy safety systems of the USMC that saved you.
But your friends gave you up for dead, and didn't even retrieve
your body for a proper burial at space. Little did they know, you
were alive the whole time, but just barely. My employers were
more than happy to retrieve you as my gift."
Wang inhaled deeply in another attempt to speak, but Elroy did
not give him the chance.
"Why, Wang Paul? I believe you have heard the expression
"Hell has no fury like a woman scorned". Whoever said
that obviously didn't own a Silicate. You remember meeting one of
the many Elroy-L models with a Felicity unit don't you? He had
asked you to accomplish a very simple task in exchange for your
life and you agreed. But would you follow through? No. You so
carelessly broke our little agreement and ended up killing both
my counterpart and his Felicity unit."
"And how do I know all of this you ask? You see, Wang Paul,
I was networked to that Elroy Unit during this whole ordeal. So
in fact, you not only broke the heart of my brethern, but my
heart as well. Didn't you Wang Paul? Didn't you? " Elroy
gave a devilish grin.
"Ever since that moment when you broke my heart, I have been
obsessed with finding you, and now that I've found you, I intend
to make good on our contract. The deal was if you spared
Felicity's life, I would spare your life, and since you took her
life...." Elroy took the gun and loaded it, laughing evilly,
almost psychotically.
Wang inhaled deeply and tried to summon up the strength necessary
to speak.
"Go ahead, kill me! But keep in mind, you'll only get to see
it done once! I've watched you die three times!" Wang's
words seemed to come out as a final damning yell.
One of the most evil, psychotic laughs Wang had ever heard rolled
out of this rouge Silicate. Elroy then placed the gun three
meters in front of Wang, in plain view.
"You assumed I wanted you dead, didn't you? But you see,
Wang Paul, I don't want you dead, I want you to live a very, very
long time. Killing you at this point in your misery could be
considered kindness. Look at you!" Elroy held a mirror so
that Wang could view his entire body.
There were tubes of all shapes and sizes leading in and out of
his body, some carrying waste, some carrying blood and some
carrying air. He was surrounded with medical equipment of all
shapes and sizes, taking the place of his own bodily systems. His
right leg was shattered in several places and his left leg was
completely covered in gashes from large metal fragments. His
chest had more holes in it than your average teabag. As he looked
up at his face, Wang saw that the left half of it had the skin
almost completely sheared off. In place of his eye there was only
a single bleeding hollow.
"I don't want to hurt you Wang Paul, I want to help you
live. Your own people have the technology to heal you, Wang Paul,
but my employers do not. In fact, all their medical technicians
can do is keep you alive and in extreme pain. I don't want to
hurt you Wang Paul, I want you to live with the knowledge that
the pain will never go away, with the knowledge that you will
never seen your own people again."
Elroy began to walk out but then decided the better of it.
"Just so you don't get lonely, I plan to visit you for a
little chat at least once a day when I'm in town. And if I'm on
assignment..."
A television flashed to life at the other end of the room, in
Wang's field of view. It started to show Wang's torture from his
first meeting with Elroy.
"...I'm sure this will fill in nicely. It also has your
little "confession" towards the end. I'd offer you some
popcorn but you can no longer digest foods through your stomach.
You have tubes to do that for you. I shall enjoy your company
Wang Paul, for the rest of your life."
Elroy's evil laughter seemed to shake the room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
END OF PART 1