One Roll of The Dice (Chapter 2)

One Roll of The Dice

by

Derek Carroll

Chapter 2

Even hardened traders dislike flying through the Pirate sectors. As you fly through the south Gate of Atreu’s Clouds into Farnham’s Legend you feel the difference, it’s hard to put your finger exactly on it but there’s a sense of abandonment about the rogue systems, you feel more alone then ever, there’s a sense of waiting. The ships, which pass you, have a hurried tense feel about them, they watch you, as you watch them, each hoping the other won’t turn out to be a raider and unleash destruction without warning.

As the convoy moved out of the Gates control zone and turned south east towards Bala Gi’s Joy, the escort pilots busied themselves checking scanners, tightening seat harnesses and calling in weapon check requests to the commanding officer. For a few mizura’s the convoy lit up as each fighter let loose a few HEPT rounds to ensure his systems were working and properly synchronised. No one wanted to fly through these systems with a faulty weapon. The convoy consisted of a Mercury transporter and four Nova heavy fighters. Two of the escorts were flying 12 Km in front of the Merc and the remainder, roughly the same distance to the side and rear.

To the casual observer it looked like a standard military convoy, to anyone else, they would need to get a lot closer, close enough to see the insignia painted on the hull plating, to realise that this was anything but a standard military convoy. This was a Shadow operation and if they were close enough to realise that, they were probably dead already.

Although the name still struck fear through anyone who knew of their existence, the truth was the Shadow Units were no longer the force they once were. The days of limitless, un-accountable black-ops budgets were over. The cream of the cream was spread too thinly and gaps were starting to show, the equipment was still top of the range but like everyone else in the Argon Military it was finding someone to fly it that was becoming a problem. Successive governments, convinced that the Xenon threat was over and the Khaak threat was being exaggerated by the Military command, had taken their toll on the Argon Navy. The military budget had been reduced tazura after tazura until even units like Shadow had no choice but to hire mercenaries to fly missions like this one. Mercenaries like Chris Behringer, who’s massive gambling debts had left him no choice but to accept.

“Red Leader to Red Four, you’re drifting off station”
“Roger that Red Leader returning to position”
“Red Leader to squadron, OK people this is it……welcome to the Badlands. They don’t call this Plasma Alley for nothing so I want eyeballs and instruments. The nebula in this system is throwing out a huge amount of EM activity so don’t rely on instruments alone”

Chris glanced over at his wingman, who was anxiously craning his neck from side to side and found himself wishing yet again that Geiger was there instead. The mission itself was fairly straightforward, escort the TS with a cargo of, mind your own damn business, from here to there. Simple, unfortunately it was the “from here to there” part that was going to be difficult. Whatever the Merc was carrying, it was too fragile to withstand the stresses induced by an internal jumpdrive. So they had no choice but to do it the hard way and nursemaid the transporter from Herron’s Nebula through systems that got progressively more dangerous until they reached their destination an Ore Mine in Brennan’s Triumph.

The intercom burst to life, “Red Two to leader, I’ve got targets, multiple unknown targets approaching fast from behind….wait…shit there’s another group ten plus bandits coming straight towards us as well”

Chris, thumbed his mic, “Alright, keep calm everyone I need exact numbers, ID and distance. Red Three and Red Four Defence pattern Delta….I repeat defence pattern Delta. Come on Red Two give me the numbers…Over

Red Two’s voice crackled over the com, fear and excitement conspiring to raise it by a few semitones, “Roger Leader….they’re Khaak, sir we’ve got 1 M3, 2 M4’s and 5…no six M5’s 80Km behind approaching fast on intercept course.
“Copy that Red Two, what about the group coming towards us”.
There was a pause, “that group has 15 M5’s, 6 M4’s and 3 M3’s sir…they are 92Km ahead”..
The comm crackled and hissed with static but nobody spoke, what was there to say……8/1 odds with an enemy that also had the advantage of speed and weapons that were more powerful and of significantly greater range.

Chris took a breath before thumbing his mic, “Ok, ok I know those odds don’t look good but I’m not planning on dying this tazura and neither are any of you, so here’s the plan. We go at them in 2 groups, Red 3 and 4 take the group coming at us head on. Red 2 and I will handle the group on our ass. We go in step formation Red 2 and Red 4 switch to Ion Disrupters and fly as the bottom steps Red 3 and I will stick with BHEPTS and fly top step above and behind. We go in fast using our afterburners and strip as many of their shields down in the first pass as possible, then its Dragonfly’s and lasers for the M4’s and 5’s and Hornets for the big bastards OK…..Red leader to Transport we are going to hit them as far out from you as possible about 30 Sezura’s after we go I want you to launch 2 groups of 25 drones. Target one group to each group of bandits then head for the BoGas Factory as fast as you can. Its my guess that the M3’s are going to ignore us completely, they expect the M4’s and M5’s to keep us tied up while they go after you. We’ll sort out the small and medium fighters as quickly as possible and use the turbo’s to get back in time to take out the M3’s. Ok are we ready to do this, let me hear it”
The replies were quick and positive, “ Red 2 to Leader, roger that Sir”.
“Red 3, understood Sir”
“Red 4, Aye aye Captain”
“Red Leader to squadron, afterburners on my mark 3…2…1.engage”

The combined velocity of the two groups was enormous and ten sezura’s later Chris switched the turbo off and slipped into position above and behind Red 2. There’s no adequate way to describe the sound a Kyon Emitter makes as it reaches out towards you. Chris watched them arc across the shrinking space between the fighters and heard the angry Doppler buzzing as they swept past and knew that their chance’s were practically zero. The swarm grew larger at a frightening rate and as the beams found their target and the shields began to fall, he could hear Red 2 frantically panting out his mantra “Nearly there, just a little closer”.

A sezura later and the area lit up as streams of Ion energy arced across the swarm, depleting the small to medium ships shields rapidly. Chris opened up with his guns destroying three in quick succession and then they were upon each other. An M4 appeared out of nowhere and slammed into the starboard side of his ship, its hardened point gouging a deep furrow along the length of the upper nacelle, a huge shower of sparks flew across the cockpit exterior temporarily blinding Chris who was thrown about like a child’s rag doll. The ship began to shudder as stabiliser systems gave out and the computer tried unsuccessfully to re-route the functions to secondary systems. Chris vaguely heard a voice in his headset “Red 2 to Red Leader…….Red 2 to Red Leader, respond please….Sir are you all right?” Chris blinked and shook his head, he quickly glanced at the main readouts and saw with relief that apart from the shaking his ship still seemed to be battle worthy, he switched on his mic, “Leader to Red 2, I’m OK….what’s our status”

“We got 5 of them, Sir, 1M4 and 4 M5’s. The others are co…”
Red 2’s voice faltered as something blocked out the sun behind him and coldness washed over him. Chris brought his ship around just in time to see the Khaak M3 open up with all three lasers at point blank range. Red 2’s ship seemed to almost arch it’s back in agony before blossoming into an expanding ball of metal and energy, secondary explosions tearing at it’s symmetry as its ordinance blew up in the heart of destruction.

“Collision Alert“ the computer announced. Chris dragged his eyes away to see an M4 hurtling suicidally towards him. Too late, he pushed the column forward but ended up only presenting a larger target to the enemy as the fighter smashed into him, “Shields Critical”. A crack appeared above Chris’s head and grew rapidly in jagged lines across the canopy. Alarms went off, “Hull Integrity failure, explosive decompression imminent”. Without further thought, Chris pulled his visor shut checked his suits readout and pulled the ejection lever, punching out through his failing canopy sezura’s before the Nova disintegrated

As the seats ejection boosters ran out of fuel, Chris hit the harness release and used his suit’s manoeuvring thrusters to get clear of the seat. He wanted to present as small a target as possible, he didn’t know whether the Khaak took prisoners or not, but if they did, he didn’t plan to be one. He used the suits integral VEG system to zoom in on the rest of the battle or what was left of it. Red 4 must have bought it, there was no sign of him. Red 3 was still alive and using his turbo to try and get back to the Transport with a swarm of M5’s tearing at his ship from behind, “Come on……come on you can do it” Chris muttered, willing his comrades survival. Just as the first of the Fighter Drones reached them, Red 3 seemed to stall and slow down, a trail of debris appeared behind him as the ship came apart and the cockpit section side slipped into a sheet of flame. Chris hung helplessly screaming “Bastards”, but no one was listening.

The swarm completely ignored the drones, some of which were already starting to run out of fuel and shut down. The surviving M5’s caught up with the remaining M3’s and accelerated towards the Transport which had almost reached the Station. The docking lights turned green, while the swarm were still 15 Km away and with a sigh of relief Chris saw the Merc slip into the tunnel and land.

With the VEG at full zoom Chris watch as the Khaak swarm came to a complete halt. At the centre of the group the remaining M3’s formed a pyramid shape and used their manoeuvring thrusters to close in on each other. Apertures in each of their hulls slip open and clamping grips moved into position locking the ships together. The M5’s formed a circle around the nucleus and slowly the circle tightened until the cluster was reformed. Chris watched fascinated, in spit of his feelings towards them, any moment now he expected to see a warp tunnel opening as the cluster jumped back to wherever they came from. Instead the combined cluster engine brightened as they began to pick up speed and turn slowly and deliberately onto a collision course with the BoGas station. On the station itself the traffic controllers realised that the unthinkable was about to happen and frantically issued orders for their fighters to scramble but it was too late a lone fighter was emerging from the docking tunnel when the cluster plunged into the huge storage tanks causing an explosion which turned the station and everything within a 10 Km radius into a blinding ball of light.

As the shockwave hurtled towards him, Chris wondered briefly what cargo could have been so important, that the enemy were prepared to take out a station, its 5000 inhabitants and themselves, to prevent it from reaching it’s destination. He was still thinking when darkness took him………….

Silas Kavorian, leaned against the parapet and looked out across the city. Sonra had set about a tazura ago and the Winterblossom Mountains stood majestically purple against the darkening sky. Down below the evening rush was ending and now it was mostly leisure traffic at the lower altitudes. Vibrant though the city was, he always felt more comfortable up here on the 500th level of the A.N.I building, he was closer to space, that was it, away from the inane bustle of civilian life and the constant bombardment of advertising which screamed for attention from every building, window and monitor. As Director of the Argon Navel Intelligence Division, he was accorded the privilege of a penthouse office and balcony, deservedly so he felt, considering the workload the job required. At this height, traffic was restricted to military and government use nevertheless a steady stream of sub-orbital transports were heading towards Nathan’s Landing spaceport, where shuttles waited to transfer the cargo up to its destination, an unfortunate inevitability when an operation of this magnitude was approaching a state of readiness. As the convoy passed, he thought back with satisfaction and a degree of wonder at the level of planning and logistical preparation that had been necessary to get to this point.

An extensive campaign of misinformation, designed to keep the ever present news hounds, both domestic and foreign oblivious to the truth, had started over 18 stazura’s ago. Stories about military budget cut-backs, leaks regarding dissatisfaction among the high command, Government announcements that an era of peace had arrived. All carefully planted to protect the secret and delay the premature publication of the headline Kavorian dreaded most “ * * * WAR * * * ”.

If they failed, the media and public opinion would tear them to pieces, if it succeeded no one would care. From the earliest encounters with the Khaak, it was clear to the military that if they were allowed to retain the advantage they would quickly become un-stoppable. Their ships were more manoeuvrable, faster and their weapons more powerful and had greater range. They were independent of Gate technology, having the capability of jumping into any part of a sector.

Something had to be done and yet the Argon Government feared that a war weary population would not stand for another conflict. And so the planning began, in outlying sectors front line vessels were quietly withdrawn, replaced by reserves. Secret bases, far from established trade routes were set up. Material and ships were secretly stockpiled, a veil of secrecy unparalleled in history protected the operation.

Information was controlled on a strictly need to know basis and as Kavorian acknowledged stoically, many that needed to know, had made the ultimate sacrifice as a result. The risks were too great to allow even the slightest chance of a leak. There was no doubt in Kavorian’s mind that in this case the end definitely justified the means. This was to be a war for the very survival of the Argon Race and while the other races conspired and manoeuvred against each other, blinded by hate, greed or indifference to the real danger, the Argon Navy would defend they’re existence too.

As he mentally reviewed the order of battle, even his logistical mind was awed by it’s magnitude. 9 M1 Class Carriers, in 3 battle groups, 60 Titan Class destroyers, 120 Centaur Class Corvettes and over 1200 fighters. The main objective was straightforward, to destroy or at the very least neutralise the Khaak as an effective fighting force for the foreseeable future. The plan, an all out attack on the Khaak sectors. Three Battle groups would jump into 3 different systems, dividing the enemies attention and causing confusion by arriving at different times. As with all military operations, surprise and timing were crucial but with this plan there was one other facet that only a select few knew about. Like any gambler, Kavorian was not comfortable unless he had an ace up his sleeve and in this case his was Operation Embrace, a computer virus which could be transmitted to any Khaak ship, where it would propagate itself throughout the ships systems and re-transmit copies of itself to other vessels. It was programmed to shut-down the life support system killing the occupants and as well as granting remote access to navigation and weapons systems. Developed by a group of scientists at a remote laboratory on an asteroid in The Wastelands.

The virus had already undergone extensive testing, in fact Kavorian was at this moment awaiting the results of the final dress rehearsal before the virus was declared operational. This weapon, would tip the balance firmly in their favour and ensure a glorious victory. A gentle beeping from the comm panel on his desk brought his attention back to the present. He walked into his office and pressed a button,

“Yes Tamara, what is it ?”
“Sorry to disturb you, Admiral but you have a priority message on the secure channel”
“Thank you, Tamara I will deal with it. I’m just about finished here, you can head home now”
“Very good sir, good night”
“Good night, Tamara, have a pleasant evening”

Kavorian, opened a drawer and took out a headset, it was a sign of the times that even the director of Navel Intel could not be sure who was listening to conversations in his office. He pressed a button on the panel,
“Admiral Silas Kavorian 3254747Alpha”
“Sir. Captain Tillermann, Operation Embrace has been a complete success”
Kavorian allowed his shoulders to sag just a little with relief,
“Excellent news, Captain, ……..the subjects ?”
“ Destroyed, Sir they rammed a Bogas station where the bait had landed”
“…and the escort….what is their status ?”
“All dead, Sir, there were no survivors”
“Very well, Captain return to base. Well done”
Kavorian, switched off the communication channel and typed a short sequence of numbers into a keypad on his desk. At the north gate of Farnham’s Legend an Argon Discoverer exploded, killing its pilot Captain Ernst Tillermann and erasing the little information he had for ever. Back in his office the admiral picked up his portable terminal,
“Lights.”
As he walked to the door the office lighting dimmed into standby. It had been a long but successful day and he was tired, if he recalled correctly his favorite opera was being broadcast on the entertainment channel this evening. A large whiskey and some music would be the perfect way to end this tazura…….

………….Breathing…..the sound of laboured breathing was deafening……..it took several sezura’s before Chris realised that the breathing was his own and several mizura’s more before his mind cleared enough to remember what had happened. As he opened his eyes and tried to focus the motion of the star field made him close them again as nausea set in.

Explosion……shockwave….slowly it came back. Activating the suits thrusters he used some of his precious fuel to bring his rotation to a halt and re-orientate himself with the sector. He was prepared for the worst yet it still came as a shock when he saw just how far out the successive shockwaves had carried him. The nearest station was over 200km away, so the fuel he had just used made no difference, he wouldn’t have made it anyway. He checked the life support readout built into the sleeve of his suit. He would be out of oxygen in a little under 20 mizura’s. The automatic distress beacon was working but this far out there was little hope of rescue.

He toyed with the idea of opening his helmet, rapid decompression would be infinitely quicker than a drawn out suffocation. Before he could make a decision, a movement in his a half seen movement in the corner of his eye made him turn his head. Behind him the cargo doors of a Bayamon gaped like the mouth of an Argon Batchik, as it swallowed him …………