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.


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*Round Robin*: SECOND SEASON Part 1
* Payback time !*
By Brian J. Mills

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"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.
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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.


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END OF PART 1