John F. Kennedy
United Earth Alliance Headquarters
Brussels, Belgium
Earth
Since the attack on Earth and her off world allies, the Headquarters once home to NATO, and now home to the United Earth Alliance, had played host to an endless stream of tense meetings. Unspoken of by participants, officers and enlisted service members from nations spanning the globe had begun a betting pool on the number of ulcers that had sprung up within the UEA high command. While far from being politically correct, unsanctioned activities such as these offered many a much needed stress relief mechanism. For those embroiled in heavily classified meetings within UEA headquarters, no such mechanism existed.
The latest of those meetings was coming to order, in the single most heavily secure area of the United Earth Alliance headquarters. Seated within the meeting area were military leaders, and envoys from many of the most powerful and influential nations of Earth involved in off world affairs. One of these participants had moments before beamed directly into UEF headquarters from his Pentagon office in the United States. That man was Major General William Ronson, commanding General of Home World Command. The first truly multinational command, Home World Command spoke with the power of a handful of national leaders. On this day, Home World Command would deliver instructions that would alter much on Earth, and elsewhere in the Milky Way galaxy.
"Can you explain to use exactly what is happening in Montevideo?" A Dutch representative requested.
"The Uruguayan government has extended full access and courtesies, which stem largely from South American governments responding very positively from being given an equal seat at the table, as far as the world government to come is concerned. Mr. McQuillen is already on scene in Montevideo. In the harbor where Andromeda Clipper is docked, a number of strike teams have been brought in, and remain aboard cargo vessels. These strike teams are composed of forces from the Russian Spetsnaz Alpha Group, German GSG-9, and British SAS. These three groups are present as a secondary option, should the need arise.
The muscle in this operation comes from the United States Marine Corps, in the form of a company sized element from the Raiders. Their focus is ship boarding, and ship seizure. McQuillen's intention is to wait until Andromeda Clipper departs, and conduct boarding and seizure over the South Atlantic." General Ronson explained.
"What guarantee, if any, do we have that those aboard Andromeda Clipper won't realize that they are surrounded by military forces? What if a dockworker tips them off to a strange sighting?" The Italian representative questioned.
"The Uruguayan government assisted there. All dockworkers have been replaced with Spanish speaking military personnel, each with the requisite skills to make it look believable. Andromeda Clipper is surrounded on all sides, with eyes watching from all angles." Ronson answered.
"When can we expect efforts to capture those aboard the Andromeda Clipper to begin?" The representative of South Africa asked.
"Mr. McQuillen expects capture efforts to commence within twelve hours." Ronson replied.
"Now that we have established that the military angle is covered, my government is concerned about the political fallout that will surely stem from not just this event, but from the attack on Earth. Our concerns revolve around the citizens of Earth that assisted the Lucian Alliance. How many are currently in custody?" The Hungarian representative inquired.
"As of two hours ago, several hundred are detained aboard Warspite in orbit. These are the ones that Mr. McQuillen's team has been able track down, that participated in the attack. In truth, we might never capture all that were recruited." Ronon answered promptly.
"Has thought been put into what will be done with those in custody? If we give these people a trial, as each is guaranteed, we could have a large potential problem. Any trial will divide the citizens of this world. Let us not fool ourselves into believing an unbiased jury exists, or could even be found. Such a trial could also embolden others to follow in the footsteps of those who sided with the enemy of our world. This is something we cannot allow to happen." The Hungarian representative stated.
'I agree with you, as does my government, and other governments around the world. What we need is a Plan B. Is it in any of our interests to see those who helped the Lucian Alliance potentially go free?" Ronson asked openly.
"What is it you propose?" The Finnish representative asked pointedly.
"A public forum for those involved is in none of our mutually interlinked interests. What if we could simply sweep this issue under the rug, never to be retrieved? Many millions died during the attack. Adding another hundred and eight names to the list of casualties would not draw attention from anyone. A way of doing this exists, but would require the absolute silence of all governments. Our form of government is changing as we speak, and paperwork has a way of being misplaced. To solve this issue, all we need to do is remove the source of that problem from this world." Ronson mused.
"Are you saying that we whitewash this? What of those recruited that are not yet in custody?" The Finnish representative demanded in shock.
"For the sake of our world and way of life, that is exactly what we must do. Once this is done, we can forever close this chapter of history. This never happened. As for those not currently in custody, that is a bridge we cross when we come to it." Ronson responded.
Over the next half hour, the assembled representatives discussed Plan B. When done, however distasteful as it might be, all agreed Plan B must move forward. In certain situations, ethics and ideals believed to be sacrosanct had a way of becoming inconvenient, and pushed aside. In conflict, the victor possessed the ability to record history in a way that lionized their own actions, while overlooking wrongs found in the victors conduct. Plan B would go down as the last great secret of governments soon to be relegated to the annuls of history.
Arkos
Sol Solar System
Milky Way Galaxy
A sense of normalcy had returned to the Ancient designed and constructed shipyard of Arkos Station. Were it not for the actions of the ascended Ancient's, a people who knew all of the secrets of Arkos, return of full function might never have been possible. Playing a more significant role than any other single piece of Ancient technology, Arkos was the main source of Earth's interstellar might. Restoration of full function to Arkos assured Earth its remarkable advantage over any potential foe, now and in the future.
As remarkable an achievement Arkos might be, the station and its many systems were the product of technology millions of years old. Since the time of the stations completion, the technology comprising many systems and subsystems had advanced by orders of magnitude. Simply repairing the station made little sense. Instead, the Ancient's opted to upgrade systems deemed outdated.
This effort had been broken down into three key elements. The Arkos artificial intelligence, tasked with managing all functions of the station, was replaced altogether. Taking the place of the dated artificial intelligence core was a new distributed neural array, housed across systems and subsystems spanning the station. To this neural array was added the intelligence that was Arkos. No longer would a single point of vulnerability remain, as the entire station would now house the artificial intelligence construct of Arkos. In many ways, the intelligence controlling Arkos would use the station itself as a brain. Unshackled, the Arkos artificial intelligence would now be permitted to add to its own processing power, which it was hoped, would result in an unprecedented increase in efficiency, and adaptation.
Damaged power conduits, another area of vulnerability exploited during the attack, were repaired. Redundant conduits were also added. To further the safety margin, critical systems, such as the shielding separating the interior of Arkos from space, were equipped with wireless power delivery. Repurposed from the same technology used to deliver power to Ancient drone weapons, this technology would ensure that should power conduits fail again, shields would not fail.
The final area concentrated on was the gate those of Earth had added to Arkos. The gate, as a portal designed to enable travel throughout the galaxy and universe, was a security vulnerability. This vulnerability was one the Ancient's addressed, well aware of Goodly's use of the gate to make her escape. Moving the gate to a secure storage area, the Arkos gate was equipped with an iris shield identical to that used aboard city ships. The gate was also tied directly to power generation systems aboard the station, which would allow for direct dialing of extremely distant gates in other galaxies.
Internally, Arkos was filled to the brim with warships of many classes, belonging to the individual nations of Earth. Brought in from Earth to replace those lost in the Attack on Arkos, new personnel of all nationalities could be seen. Normally a chaotic flood of activity, Arkos was now positively overflowing with preparatory activity to ready the fleet, for what was hoped would be the final battle, in the war against the Lucian Alliance.
Aboard vessels, teams of technicians checked and then rechecked systems aboard each warship. Similar checks were performed on weapons systems. When fault was found, no matter how minor the fault, repair was not undertaken. Instead, weapons and systems were simply pulled and replaced in full. Never before had Earth's fleet been brought to such a state of material readiness.
On the outer hull of each vessel currently docked within Arkos, arachnid construction robots swarmed. One of these bots could be seen on each vessel. While checks and rechecks took place within the hull of each warship, changes were taking place externally. Each vessel of the Earth fleet bore an etched flag of national ownership. The swarming construction bots were busily engaged in removing these flags of many nations. Replacing these was a single symbol; the point of origin chevron representing Earth. Never before had an interstellar warship of Earth deployed without its flag of ownership and origin. In the coming final fleet action against the Lucian Alliance, these vessels would not travel into battle as ships of separate national fleets, but as vessels sharing the identifying mark of a unified Earth Fleet. Forevermore into the future, this single symbol would come to represent Earth, and those she sent out among the stars.
The clock was running, and ship crew and Arkos assigned personnel alike knew it. In three days time, the fleet would depart Arkos, in small detachments. Their destination would be Fleet Station McHenry, where the fleet would assemble in full. On the fourth day, the fleet would depart the space surrounding Fleet Station McHenry. On that day, the full weight and measure of the most powerful fleet in the Milky Way would engage in battle, a battle all members of the fleet hoped would be the last in this short and vicious war.
Montevideo, Uruguay
Earth
Milky Way Galaxy
Sitting at dock, Andromeda Clipper sat moored to her anchorage, hovering over the waters of Montevideo Bay. Built in Canada, Andromeda Clipper represented not so much the next step in commercial interstellar shipping technology, as she represented the collective response of the people of Windsor, and the nation of Canada. On an episode of the Colbert Report, the host had jokingly mocked Windsor, referring to the city as 'Earth's rectum'. Naturally, Windsorites took offense to this. Refusing to be the butt of jokes any longer, Canadian industry responded. The product of that response came in the form of research, engineering advances and finally Earth's fastest commercial vessel; the Andromeda Clipper.
Built to service cargo routes, Andromeda Clipper came equipped with two dozen suites, to house travelers that might wish to book passage to and from Earth. For the coming voyage of the vessel, each of these suites were filled. The occupants of these suites, known to several members of Andromeda Clipper's civilian crew, were about to make their escape from this world.
Each Lucian Alliance deep cover operative had a tale to tell. Their individual escapes from several continents had been tense, and nerve wracking affairs. By air, rail, and sea they had made their escape. In several instances, a combination of the three modalities had been used. To each, the realization that they had made it this far was nothing short of amazing. During their escape, each had believed that national security forces of all nations were hot on their tail, with capture imminent. That capture had yet to come was nothing short of a miracle. Still, escape from this world was not yet certain.
In one of the passenger suites, the three senior most operatives were meeting. This meeting, away from the earshot of the other operatives aboard Andromeda Clipper, promised to be tense. Questions remained, and those questions were ones with no answers on the horizon.
"The time to depart is nearly at hand. We should depart now." Alik Bogdanov suggested.
"Why exactly are we waiting for the planned departure time? The ship is under our control. We can leave anytime we choose, so why are we waiting?" Troy Phillips demanded.
"We will depart when I say we depart. I am in command here. Those that hunt us have no clue where we are. We can afford to wait for Goodly to arrive." Trevain deflected irritably.
"She should have arrived days ago. It isn't certain that she survived her portion of the plan. If she was captured, she could have revealed our escape plan. We should have changed our escape route." Bogdanov argued.
"Its too quiet out there. They know we are here, I know it!" Troy Phillips hissed.
"Do you see an army on the docks? They know nothing! Out of respect for your accomplishments, I will take your request under consideration. Make certain we are ready for departure, and report to me when done." Trevain instructed dismissively.
On the docks, the appearance of dockyard workers going about their daily tasks could be seen by any who bothered to look. Days before, each and every dockyard worker of the Port of Montevideo had been replaced. These replacements, each a fluent spanish speaker and heavily trained, were all skilled military personnel. Drawn primarily from the United States Army, these fill-in dockyard workers came from both 7th Special Forces Group and 20th Special Forces Group. Both of these units specialized in operations in Central and South America, and were well versed in the local language and customs. Their purpose here was twofold. First, they were to present to prevent normal port personnel from accidentally exposing the military presence. Second, they were under orders to contain those aboard Andromeda Clipper to the ship itself, to prevent escape and possible bloodshed.
Before the effort to prevent Andromeda Clipper and those she carried from taking their leave of Earth began, Reginald McQuillen had ordered collection of relevant facts, as they related to this effort. Those facts, gathered, checked, and then rechecked, presented a picture McQuillen dreaded. Several members of this ships crew were close associates of multiple Lucian Alliance operatives, as proven by cell phone call logs.
This presented a problem. If the crew, even if only a few, were acting in cahoots with the operatives being sought, then any effort to seize control of the ship, and all aboard, was most likely doomed to fail. That realization brought a change in the operations concept, leading all to believe boarding and seizure of Andromeda Clipper must take place after its departure. Once high above the waters of the South Atlantic, detonation of the ship's power generation systems by those desperate to escape capture, could in no way harm result in the loss of another city.
In the operations center, set up in the industrial complex ringing the Port of Montevideo, McQuillen checked his watch for the eighth time in ten minutes. According to the departure plan on file for Andromeda Clipper, four hours remained before the ship set sail. McQuillen was happy for that remaining window of time, due to certain key pieces of the coming operation being not yet in place. Marine Raiders, in a warehouse complex two blocks away, prepared for movement to the vessel they would launch from. Only Captain Aiden Ford, and two of his Marines, were ready should the enemy throw a curveball. A minimal combat air patrol of two cloaked F-302's lazily orbited the Port of Montevideo. Galactic Express would not arrive for another two hours though, and that tried McQuillen's patience greatly. All would be well, if the Lucian Alliance operatives stuck to the plan as it was known to McQuillen. Sadly, enemies rarely played by set rules, or by a schedule convenient for defending forces. Subscribing to chaos and a timeline of their own, events cared little for even the most intricately laid of plans.
Chaos, the great trickster, had already set events in motion. Aboard Andromeda Clipper, both Troy Phillip and Alik Bogdanov, acting as agents of chaos, were making their moves. In agreement, both Troy and Alik disagreed with Trevain's wishes, and saw his instructions for both of them as nothing more than simple placation. A healthy dose of fear drove both men to seize the initiative, and not so much disobey as disregard Trevain's instructions.
In the engineering section of Andromeda Clipper, Alik Bogdanov gathered the ships engineers. Issuing orders that brooked no argument, Bogdanov instructed these crew members to bring all systems online, in preparation for an immediate departure. Aware of Bogdanov's standing among the Lucian Alliance operatives, the ships engineers complied, believing these instructions to have come from Trevain himself. Quickly, a deep hum filled the engineering spaces, as onboard reactors were brought online. Throughout the vessel, environmental control systems similarly came online.
On the bridge, Troy Phillips arrived without warning. Standing at their stations, the in-port standing watch took note of his arrival. Like the engineering staff, the in-port watch was fully aware of Troy's standing among the operatives aboard. Gathering the in-port watch around him, Troy Phillips began to issue a series of rapid fire orders.
"Release the umbilicals of all dockside power connections. Retract boarding platforms, and seal all external airlocks. Disengage the mooring cables quickly. I want this ship moving in five minutes." Phillips ordered.
"Port departure control will take notice. Our departure plan lists our scheduled departure time as several hours from now. This will attract a good deal of attention." A helmsman warned.
"That matters little. When we depart, keep us over land as we gain altitude. Plead a malfunction if you must. Depart at speed, and nothing will prevent our departure from this world. Move as if your lives depended on it." Phillips exclaimed.
Outside of the vessel, things began to happen. Umbilicals, attached to either side of Andromeda Clipper's forward hull, unlocked and quickly reeled back into dockside stations. Lights, aimed at the vessels nameplate, activated. Running lights, lining the hull also powered on. At the four corners of Andromeda Clipper's hull, both above and below, amber lights began to flash, warning bystanders of the vessels imminent departure. Filling the air, an audible warning siren sounded.
Seeing this, and warned by sensors embedded in the now disconnected umbilicals, the control center of the Port of Montevideo stared in wonder. Lacking a briefing on efforts to detain those aboard this vessel, port control was operating in the dark, unaware. Consulting the days departure plan, port control personnel on duty verified that Andromeda Clipper was not scheduled to , depart for several hours. Clearly, something was amiss. Transmitting on the port frequency, port controllers moved to quickly verify the source of confusion.
"Andromeda Clipper, port control. You are not cleared for departure. Request you explain your actions." Port control announced.
"Port control, this is Andromeda Clipper. We are experiencing multiple malfunctions. Our departure is directly related to these malfunctions. Request immediate clearance to depart, so these malfunctions can be diagnosed and repaired away from port." The helmsman requested.
"Departure clearance is not authorized. Power down, and assistance will arrive on scene momentarily." Port control instructed.
On the docks of the Port of Montevideo, the disguised military personnel looked towards Andromeda Clipper in confusion. According to their briefing, the vessel was not slated to depart for several more hours. Something was clearly amiss. From these undercover personnel, reports were quickly called in to the operations center outside the port facilities.
In the operations center, these reports struck like lightning. Had those aboard Andromeda Clipper learned that the dockworkers were not truly dockworkers? Had news of the effort to storm the vessel leaked? Whatever was happening, it was not something that had been planned for. Galactic Express was nearing Earth now, but not nearly close enough to make a difference. This was one of those worst case scenarios you always pray does not happen.
"Send word to the F-302's orbiting the area. I want them to be prepared to intercept the vessel as it departs. Also, send word to the Falklands that we need them to scramble all aircraft, and move to intercept. Contact the boarding element, and instruct them to hold for now, but remain prepared for movement." McQuillen ordered.
Aboard Andromeda Clipper, all systems were powered and aligned. The vessel was now fully prepared to depart. Following the orders given to them, the bridge crew of the vessel carried out their instructions in full. In the automated piloting system, the ships path of departure was already plotted. Instead of backing away from its mooring point, Andromeda Clipper began a stationary climb. Reaching eight hundred feet above ground level, the vessels autopilot engaged. Powered forward by sub-light engines, Andromeda Clipper continued her climb as she began her passage above the estuary of the River Plate.
In the distance, two F-302's of the Royal Air Force raced towards their target. Their throttles advanced, the two aircraft sliced through the atmosphere at velocities far exceeding that of their target. One thousand miles to the south, six additional F-302's of the Royal Air Force were departing RAF Mount Pleasant, in a race to intercept their distant target. Aboard the nearer two F-302's, both pilots quickly detected the Andromeda Clipper. Using their distributed aperture systems, the radiating waves of heat bleeding from Andromeda Clipper shone like a beacon in the distance. Under cloak, these two interceptors would trail their target, waiting for the order to fire, while praying their backup arrived sooner rather than later.
Captain Aiden Ford, already encapsulated in his combat exoskeleton, with his flight pack attached, stood with two of his Marines. Several dozen yards away, the remainder of the company of Raiders under Ford's command busily suited up. In full view of Captain Ford, and his two Marines, Andromeda Clipper could be seen, making its escape. Knowing this was not part of the overall plan, Aiden quickly radioed Reginald McQuillen.
"Ops, this is Raider Six. Are my eyes deceiving me, or am I watching the target vessel depart?" Ford asked inquired acidly.
"Raider Six, your eyes do not deceive. The target is on the move. Interceptors are moving into position now. Your orders are to stand down, and await further instructions." McQuillen ordered.
"Say again? I have eyes on the target now. Request permission to move on the target." Ford requested.
"Negative, stand down and await further instructions." McQuillen replied in frustration.
"Your last came in garbled. Reading you very garbled." Ford countered.
"Stand down!" McQuillen snarled.
Looking at the two Marines standing near him, Ford quickly weighed his options. He could follow orders, and do nothing. That option didn't sit well with Ford at all. Alternatively, he could follow his instincts, and take his two Marines, to join the chase. Following orders was really the right thing to do, but sometimes, doing the right thing simply wasn't doing the right thing. Ford was also fairly certain the Corps wouldn't punish him for disobeying this order, as it came from someone in the intelligence community.
"Waverley, Dash, you two are with me. If this goes south on us, just tell them you were following orders." Ford announced.
"Sir, with all due respect, I retire in three years. If they want to have me finish my career counting steak sauce somewhere, I'm fine with that. We're with you." Gunnery Sergeant Waverley replied.
"Count me in Sir." Corporal Dash added.
A moment later, all three Marine Raiders activated their flight packs. Noiselessly, each of the three flight packs began to transform, and configure itself for flight. From each of the metallic packs, affixed magnetically to the three Marine combat exoskeleton's, a one meter dihedral wing unfolded. At the bottom of each pack, two miniaturized reaction drive pods extended. In the enclosed helmet of each Marine, a disembodied voice announced each pack was ready for flight. Lifting off silently, the three Marine Raiders, in direct violation of standing orders, began to give chase.
In the distance, on the bridge of Andromeda Clipper, the bridge crew hovered above data screens displaying reams of information. Standing nearby, Troy Phillips stared off into the distance with an unfixed gaze. Enjoying the silence of the moment, Phillips began to believe that escape might actually happen. Distracting from these line of though, the sound of a passageway hatch opening returned Phillips firmly to the present.
"Have you gone mad?" Trevain bellowed.
"I hardly view escape as going mad." Phillips quipped.
"Leaving so soon announces our location you fool! This is not what we agreed upon." Trevain said with clinched teeth.
"Whats done is done. All we can do now is concentrate on making our escape." Phillips replied.
"What of Goodly? The Alliance will not look kindly on your willful abandonment of our sister." Trevain warned.
"Goodly is either dead, or captured. Whatever her fate, she is out of our reach. Those aboard this vessel matter most. It is our responsibility to return them to the Alliance!" Phillips spat.
"The odds of Goodly being captured are remote. I would stake my life on Goodly, even if she had been captured, refusing to provide our location." Trevain proclaimed assuredly.
Before Troy could reply, an unexpected interruption took place. Data screens throughout the bridge came to life. On these screens, the expected sight of an Earth functionary demanding their return to port was not seen. Instead, the most horrific of sights was displayed for all standing on the bridge. Silence resounded across the bridge, as the video displayed on the many data screens played out. In this video, they saw a wounded Breanne Goodly, recounting the mode of escape currently being used. Shock and horror turned to anger and fear in the hearts of all.
"Are you still willing to stake your life on that?" Phillips asked simply.
"Buenos Aires is under our flight path. We can simply overload the reactor, and destroy the city." Trevain mused.
"No! We are minutes away from escaping this world! I will not let you barter the lives of everyone aboard away so simply." Phillips raged.
"How do you intend to stop me?" Trevain asked menacingly.
Before Phillips could answer, Alik Bogdanov, newly arrived on the bridge, rushed Trevain. Grabbing Trevain by the neck, Bogdanov delivered a punishing blow to the kidney, dropping Trevain to the deck.
"I'll simply kill you. That should stop you nicely." Bogdanov whispered into Trevain's ear.
For a brief moment, the bridge was deathly silent. Escape was at hand, but now they knew that their comrade had betrayed them. Thoughts of a successful escape consumed the minds of all standing on the bridge, except Trevain. A wave of tension rippled through all. Could this day hold any more surprises? Actually, yes it could.
Light and sound filled the bridge. As the silvery light bloomed, the form of a prone individual took form. Receding quickly, the bloom of light and sound vanished as suddenly as it had arrived. There, laying on the deck, was Breanne Goodly. Adjusting to her surroundings, Goodly quickly locked eyes with familiar faces not seen in many years. Seeing these faces caused an explosion of confusion in Goodly.
"Where am I?" Goodly stammered.
"Aboard the Andromeda Clipper." Bogdanov answered.
"Are we making our escape?" Goodly asked hopefully.
"We are. Bogdanov, take her to the forward cargo hold, and show her how happy we are to see her." Phillips suggested.
"A celebration?" Goodly asked.
"In a way, yes. Moments ago, we learned we have much to thank you for. Bogdanov, once you have her in the hold, cut her throat." Phillips instructed.
"No!" Goodly screamed, as she was carried off the bridge.
"Increase our speed, and continue climbing. Our window is closing." Phillips ordered.
What no one aboard Andromeda Clipper stopped to consider, was that Goodly's beaming aboard has been done with ease. If Goodly could be beamed aboard, then Earth could also beam away those aboard. Had they stopped to consider this fact, they might have realized a larger plan was in play.
Operations Center
Montevideo
Earth
Things in the operations center were tense, but not yet frantic. McQuillen, as a counterintelligence professional, was all too aware that a military commander should be heading this effort. Pushing these thoughts aside, McQuillen's main concern was the threat Andromeda Clipper represented to Buenos Aires. The initiative had been lost, and McQuillen knew he had to do something, anything, to regain that initiative.
Fully engrossed with a data display, McQuillen watched as Andromeda Clipper continued her climb. Tucked in behind the vessel were two diamond shaped symbols, denoting the two F-302's in trail. On the bottom of the screen, six other diamond shaped symbols denoted the interceptors scrambled from RAF Mount Pleasant, racing to catch up.
"What do the two aircraft in trail report?" McQuillen asked.
"The ship is continuing its climb, but increasing speed. The pilots did report an energy bloom aboard the ship though." A communications specialist responded.
"What kind of bloom? Are they trying to overload the reactor?" McQuillen asked with concern.
"Apparently it was a momentary energy spike, not an overload." The communications specialist replied.
"Contact HMS Warspite. We may need their assistance. Tell them limited use of low power weapons is authorized." McQuillen instructed.
"Belay that order!" A distant voice called out.
Rhythmic footsteps could be heard in the distance. As those footsteps increased in volume, the outline of a figure came into view. That figure was Major General William Ronson.
"This isn't your operation General." McQuillen warned.
"I am fully aware of that Mr. McQuillen. Still, my order to belay that stands." Ronson said, as he stepped within feet of Reginald.
"All we having standing between the Andromeda Clipper's escape are a few fighters, and HMS Warspite. My orders are to capture those who attacked this world, and I intend to follow those orders to the letter." McQuillen argued.
"I may not like this either, but you and I answer to our respective governments. As of this moment, your standing orders are no longer in effect." Ronson explained.
"Then what are we doing?" McQuillen demanded in exasperation.
"Plan B." Ronson answered simply.
"What is Plan B?" McQuillen asked, as his frustration mounted.
"Watch and see. If it matters, Warspite received her updated orders five minutes ago." Ronson admitted.
"The F-302's in pursuit are reporting three Marine Raiders also in pursuit." The communications specialist announced.
"I knew Captain Ford wouldn't listen." McQuillen sighed.
"At the rate Andromeda Clipper is gaining speed, Ford won't be able to catch her. It's a nonissue." Ronson replied dismissively.
In Pursuit
Fifty-Five Miles Behind Andromeda Clipper
Earth
The heads up display in his exoskeleton helmet showed Captain Aiden Ford that not only was he not gaining ground on Andromeda Clipper, he was loosing ground. Built in velocity restrictions, as a safety measure, prevented Ford's flight pack from producing the speeds needed to catch the still accelerating cargo ship in the distance. Falling short of his target was unacceptable to Ford. If he was to achieve his goal, certain steps needed to be taken. As a commanding officer who valued each and every one of his Marines, he knew that this next step was one he needed to take alone.
"Gunny Waverley, Corporal Dash, I need you both to turn back now." Ford instructed.
"Sir I think I speak for both myself and Corporal Dash when I say we have come this far, and we are going to finish this race with you." Gunnery Sergeant Waverley replied.
"Negative Gunny. Both of you, head back to Montevideo, now." Ford ordered.
Reluctantly, both Waverley and Dash broke off pursuit. In his heads up display, Ford watched for a moment, to ensure that his men were not simply falling back, and resuming their pursuit. Ford had no wish to endanger his men, and while they were most probably disappointed by his order, he had no wish for them to take part in what he was about to attempt.
Accessing the flight pack system controls shown in his heads up display, Ford began what he hoped was not something he would later regret. Numerous safeguards stood in the way of what he hoped to accomplish. First, he accessed the power usage menu, and bypassed energy use limitations of the flight pack's reaction drive pods. That was half the battle. Next, he moved on to the velocity restriction safeguard. Bypassing that, his task was now complete.
Taking a few deep breaths to collect himself, Ford knew it was now or never. Giving the command to accelerate, Ford was all too aware he was simply along for the ride now. That ride was one he hoped did not end with a loud bang, a soft squishing sound, or some other less than successful outcome. Judging by the continued acceleration of Andromeda Clipper, Ford knew it would require full power, or else he would fail.
At Ford's command, power flowed into the flight pack's reaction drive pods. The effect was similar to launching oneself out of a cannon. Lacking the inertial dampeners found on other craft, Ford felt the rush of acceleration. Concentrating on the distance to target, Ford watched as the distance measurement ceased increasing, before beginning to decrease. It was working! Nearing the speed of sound, a ring of water vapor in the air compressed, forming a visible ring around Ford's chest. As he pushed closer to the speed of sound, the ring of vapor traveled down his back, and down his legs. Pushing through the sonic barrier, the ring of vapor vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
While this might be suicidal, Ford had to admit that it was a fun ride. On his heads up display, he saw the continued increase in speed. Alongside the velocity indicator, Ford took note of his rapidly increasing altitude. Like a missile, the exoskeleton clad Marine officer lanced through the skies, in pursuit of a target he refused to let get away. The distance to target decreased with every passing second. Unknown to Ford, two cloaked F-302's sat to either side of his flight path. Streaking past the two unseen interceptors, Ford began to decelerate, to avoid overshooting his target.
In the cockpits of the two cloaked F-302's, both Royal AIr Force aviators raised an eyebrow at the sight of an exoskeleton clad individual blazing by above the speed of sound. Opening the discreet aircraft to aircraft communications channel, both pilots began to discuss the strange sight.
"Twenty quid that bloke is an American." One of the pilots surmised.
"No bet. I'd be gobsmacked if that bloke was anything but American." The other pilot responded.
Reporting in this most unexpected of sightings to the operations center in Montevideo, both pilots were stunned by the order to back off further from their target. Both pilots were also hoping that the lone exoskeleton clad madman was not the sole source of hope to stop this ship, before it escaped Earth's atmosphere.
Decelerating to a velocity closely approximating that of Andromeda Clipper, Aiden Ford neared the vessel. Keeping his eyes locked directly on the target, Captain Ford was mindful not to cast his gaze towards the ground. While a brave and hard charing Marine, Aiden was not terribly found of heights. Having studied the design schematics of Andromeda Clipper, in preparation for a company sized assault on the ship, he was well aware of weak points in the design. Had this been a warship, his current efforts would have been pointless. Built to civilian specifications, this vessel was vulnerable in a number of ways.
Lacking his Marines, Aiden knew his options were somewhat limited as to what he could accomplish. Well aware that he lacked the proper equipment to breach the ship, or destroy it, Ford had already settled on simply slowing it down. To accomplish this goal, he would be forced to do something one would expect to see in an action film, or a particularly action oriented science fiction film.
Increasing his speed fractionally, Ford inched towards the upper rear hull of Andromeda Clipper. One mistake, or one unexpected deviation from course by the target, and Ford could easily find himself face to face with the cargo vessels sub-light drive, which would be an outcome Aiden hoped to avoid. Closing on his selected landing point, forty yards forward of the sub-light drive, Ford brought up his knees. This was the truly tricky part. Coming within a foot of the hull, he placed his hand directly on the hull. Pushing away with one arm, the quickly thinning atmosphere caught the one meter wing of his flight pack, pushing him bodily towards a standing position. Simultaneously, Ford deactivated his flight pack, which folded the wing, while activating the magnetic system of his exoskeleton's boots. Amazingly, he had done it.
Hunched forward, each step Ford took was a challenge. Were it not for the enhanced strength the exoskeleton afforded, each step would have been impossible. Looking forward five meters, he locked his eyes on a square protrusion from the hull. That was his target. Each step he took brought him closer to his goal. Inside this protrusion, which housed system conduits, were power conduits tasked with delivering one half of the total power used aboard the ship.
Unholstering his particle magnum pistol, Ford took careful aim, and let loose his first shot. Striking the access panel, magnetic interlocks securing the platform cover in place failed. The cover, swept away, left exposed conduits in full view. Now was Ford's chance. Taking aim, he intended to pour fire into these conduits. Sliding his finger back into the trigger guard, Ford began to squeeze. In his field of vision, a blinding silvery light appeared. Ford knew all too well what that meant.
"Are you kidding me? Come on!" Ford raged.
Before his shot could be made, Captain Aiden Ford was transported away, by the Asgard transport beam aboard HMS Warspite. Unknown to Ford, the Asgard transport beam aboard HMS Warspite was not focused solely on his, but also in use within Andromeda Clipper. Following orders, Warspite beamed those being held aboard, who has assisted the Lucian Alliance operatives in their attack on Earth, from their holding area to a cargo hold aboard Andromeda Clipper. The cargo ship would make its escape, but not before receiving this unexpected delivery.
Irritated, annoyed, and confused; Warspite's bridge crew watched as the enemy of their world exited Earth's atmosphere unchallenged. Prohibited from taking further action, those aboard Warspite could only watch as Andromeda Clipper powered away from Earth, and finally leaping into hyperspace. Plan B was now in effect.
Lucian Alliance Prisoner Camp Planet
Unnamed Solar System
Milky Way Galaxy
Four hours earlier, HNLMS Gouden Leeuw, of the Royal Netherlands Navy, and SAS Erebus, of the South African Navy had arrived. Both Athena Class warships sat undetected, due to their powerful cloaks, and the apparent lack of sensors designed to detect vessels within the solar system being present. A. true international effort, the coming operation involved military personnel from many nations. The ground component, coming from Blue Light, was the most culturally diverse unit present, composed of highly trained soldiers coming from many nations.
Shortly after the arrival of both warships, the men of Blue Light, and those who would carry them to their objective had busily prepared for the coming assault. In the starboard hanger bay of HNLMS Gouden Leeuw, pilots of the US Army's 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment had performed numerous checks on their MH-100Pave Paiutes over the course of preflight inspection. To the pilots of the 160th SOAR, this was a mission with special meaning. They were here to bring home Earth's two lost aviators, and that mission was one none would allow to fail. Had the Lucian Alliance not installed bunker shielding technology, this recovery raid would have been entirely unnecessary, as the two captured aviators below could have been beamed up with ease.
Similar preflight checks were being performed elsewhere aboard HNLMS Gouden Leeuw, and SAS Erebus. Dutch and South African pilots had already preflighted their aircraft, and checked over munitions loaded for this sortie. A sense of pride could be seen in the face of both Dutch and South African pilots, as this was their first major combat deployment against the Lucian Alliance. These pilots were out to prove that they were just as skilled and professional as their counterparts from other nations. Crews standing watch on the bridge of either vessel longed for the opportunity to take the war directly to the Lucian Alliance fleet, but this operation offered little chance for that.
On the planet below, the target area sat under darkness. The coming operation, timed to occur at three in the morning local time, was scheduled for a purpose. The reason for this revolved around the biorhythms of the human body. Between three and four hours before sunrise, when biorhythms were at their lowest, the body was effected in a number of ways. Blood pressure and body temperature were at their lowest. Higher brain function and adrenal response were also at their lowest. Even glucose levels were low, denying the body an energy producing sugar surge. For these reasons, 3am was the perfect time to attack. Adding to these advantages, the Lucian Alliance lacked the technology necessary to own the night, while these technologies has been mastered on Earth long ago.
Long range sensors aboard both HNLMS Gouden Leeuw and SAS Erebus showed the continued approach of two vital pieces of the coming operation. Launched from Hurlburt Field and belonging to the US Air Force's 1st Special Operations Wing; the two AC-142's would provide much needed close air support. Based on their current projected time of arrival, commanders aboard Gouden Leeuw and Erebus knew it was time to start the music.
From hanger bays on both vessels, the procession of cloaked craft began. Leading the way, a total of sixteen F-302's and four FB-302's departed. F-302's would provide top cover, should Lucian Alliance Death Gliders make an unexpected appearance. FB-302's, armed with GBU-39 Small Diameter Bomb's, were tasked with elimination of the building away from the prison compound, believed to house a ground reaction force. Behind these, seven MH-100 Pave Paiutes also began their voyage to the planet's surface.
As is common in military operations, the coming action hinged on timing. Earth had long ago oriented her militaries to operate in an environment of precise timing, allowing for the application of maximum force combined with speed of violence. This standard was one Earth's enemies had found to be effective and punishing. It was also a combination that was difficult to overcome. Even technologic parity offered no safety.
The sixteen F-302's broke up into four separate four ship elements. Two of these elements circled high above the target area, with one element found at twenty-five thousand feet, and the other at ten thousand feet of altitude. Scanning three hundred and sixty degrees around their aircraft, each F-302 pilot relied on the infrared detection provided by their distributed aperture system. Air to air weapons were ready, should enemy aircraft make an appearance.
Twenty kilometers from the building suspected to hold the Lucian Alliance ground reaction force, four FB-302's orbited. Weapons System Officers, seated behind their pilots, had already selected their aim points for their air to ground munitions. The GBU-39 Small Diameter Bomb was a small weapon, equipped with a two hundred pound warhead. Lacking the much larger destructive power of larger weapons, a total of four would be required for the coming strike. One apiece was targeted on each of the four corners of the reaction force barracks. Receiving word from the flight of MH-100 Pave Paiutes that they would be in position in one minute, each uncloaked FB-302 opened its internal weapons bay, and ejected a single GBU-39. Upon release, each weapon extended diamond shaped wings, and began its glide to target, steered by Weapon Systems Officers aboard the launching craft.
Five thousand feet above the planets landscape, two hyperspace windows tore open. From these dimensional doorways, two Air Force AC-142's emerged. Immediately upon exit from hyperspace, both craft extended weapons from the left side of their fuselage. Going into banking circular orbits, each AC-142 was ready. Weapons system technicians, searching the ground for targets, awaited the order to begin firing.
In the prison compound, all was quiet. The night shift was always a relaxed time. While frowned upon, guards standing duty in towers at the four corners of the prison napped. Had they been vigilant, each might have seen death coming. That they were not mattered little to the attackers. Of the seven MH-100 Pave Paiutes, four were gunship variants. One apiece was tasked with eliminating each guard tower, and its occupant.
From both sides of the fuselage of each gunship, six barreled gatling style rail guns extended. Dropping their cloaks, each of the four gunships unleashed a hellish storm of weapons fire. Each tower, with its napping occupant, was torn to shreds. Shredded wood planking, intermixed with blood and bone chips, flew through the air. In the distance, a resounding and rolling boom announced the elimination of the ground reaction force barracks, marking the death of two dozen men.
Orbiting above the fray, weapons system technicians aboard the two AC-142's opened fire. Using extremely sensitive thermal and low light targeting, these technicians poured vicious streams of fire on those lucky enough to have not been present within the now ablaze barracks. In the woods surrounding the barracks, and the prison compound, these vicious streams of fire cut down men and trees alike. War is a consumer of men, and these men never had the slightest chance to live and see another sunrise.
At the prison, in a large open center courtyard, the remaining two MH-100's set down. A backup aircraft, the third troop carrying Pave Paiute orbited. From the opening rear ramps of the two MH-100's on the ground, twenty Blue Light shooters poured out. Breaking into four teams of five shooters, they moved out at the run. The few Lucian Alliance soldiers left alive were now most certainly awake, and aware that trouble had come their way. Three of the Blue Light teams were tasked with making the remaining few seconds or minutes of the survivors lives exciting, with a sudden stop at the end.
The fourth team, tasked with recovering both captive aviators, powered on the Tollan phase shifting devices integrated into their exoskeletons. Aware of exactly where in the prison both aviators were being held, the fourth Blue Light team charged directly through a wall standing in their way. Pesky time wasters like doorways would not slow them down.
Awakened by the sudden flurry of noise from outside, both Captain Ashley Vance, and Colonel Derrick Owen were staring through the bars of their cells at one another. For so long, they had waited for this day to arrive. Many times, they worried that day might never come. Still, both had tried valiantly to remain strong, not just for themselves, but for each other. Finally, rescue was at hand.
"I told you they would come for us." Owen cheered.
"You were right." Vance agreed.
"That Chicago style pizza is within your grasp!" Owen announced.
"That sounds great, but I think I want a shower first. I smell like, well, whatever it is, its bad." Vance grimaced.
Their wait was not a long one. Twenty-seconds after their conversation ended, four Blue Light shooters passed through a wall, and into the corridor holding both Vance and Owen's cells. Their particle magnums at the ready, the four man team scanned their surroundings. Wasting no time, they went directly for the cells holding both pilots. Facial recognition suites built into each exoskeleton confirmed the identity of both Vance and Owen. Still, to be absolutely certain, further identity verification was needed.
"Colonel Owen, what was the name of your roommate at the Air Force Academy?" A Blue Light shooter asked.
"Tommy Berman." Owen answered quickly.
"Captain Vance, whats the name of your mothers Chihuahua?" The shooter asked.
"Zeus." Vance replied.
"Stand back. We are taking you home." The shooter instructed.
"Please tell me that gunfire I hear is your people." Owens requested.
"Yes Sir, those are our people. We are just showing our thanks for the hospitality these people showed you." The shooter replied.
Two of the Blue Light shooters, with their weapons aimed at either end of the corridor provided cover. The remaining two shooters, standing in front of both Owen's and Vance's cells, grabbed hold of the barred doors. Using the vastly increased strength their exoskeletons provided, both shooters ripped the barred doors off their hinges, and laid them on the ground. Motioning both pilots out of their cells, the two shooters patted the aviators down, to ensure neither was armed. This was done not out of suspicion, but because training dictated it.
"We can't use the phase shifting device to walk you straight out of here. We are going the long way, but will have you out of this place in a few minutes. Keep your heads down, and stay between us." Another shooter instructed.
So far, the rescue operation had gone flawlessly. In life, when things seem to be going far too smoothly, that is the warning the other shoe is about to drop. This situation was no different. An undetected member of the Lucian Alliance was present on this world. It was on this world that Worrel, following the orders given to him by Kefflin, had chosen to prepare for a task that might never happen. His Al'kesh, hidden under camouflage netting seven miles from the prison compound, was his ticket to escape. His only option was to escape, if he was to remain ready to carryout Kefflin's instructions.
Using his Al'kesh as a makeshift shelter, Worrel didn't need to move far to begin his escape. Having been awoken by thunderous explosions in the distance, he was certain the Tau'ri had discovered this world, as Kefflin was sure they would, and were now rescuing those from their world. That prospect bothered Worrel not at all. It had been expected, and a countermeasure existed for just such an occasion.
Taking a seat in the cockpit of the Al'kesh, Worrel's hands moved quickly over the communication panel. Seconds later, a single low power transmission, lasting a fraction of a second, filled the air. Certainly, the Tau'ri would detect such a transmission. That meant it was time to leave. Powering on all systems of the Al'kesh, Worrel sealed verified the hull was sealed. Satisfied that it was, he began to pilot the ship that would serve as his means of escape.
Applying power, Worrel piloted the Al'kesh as it rose into the air. Clearing the treetops, the camouflage netting it had been hidden beneath snagged on a tree, and was pulled away. Sensors aboard the vessel quickly detected numerous craft in the skies. Any of these could very well deliver death to Worrel's door, and for that reason, his best chance was to run as fast as this vessel would carry him.
Engaging his sub-light drive, Worrel advanced throttles and piloted the rapidly accelerating craft just feet above the treetops. An orbiting F-302, present incase such an occurrence arose, detected the fleeing Al'kesh. Altering course, the Dutch piloted F-302 vectored in on its prey. Locking on with his helmet cued targeting system, the Dutch pilot let loose two hit to kill missiles.
Speeding towards their target, the missiles rapidly ate away the distance between them and their target. Maneuvering as they closed, each high tech kamikaze readied itself to fulfill its designed purpose, against the enemy of Earth. That purpose was one not to be fulfilled, as Worrel opened a hyperspace window, and leapt away from the danger closing in on him. Though the pilot of the F-302 could not know, this miss would have consequences later, that would horrify the galaxy, and shake the Alliance of Five Great Races to their core, because this pilot was tasked with instructions to carry out should the Lucian Alliance fall.
Five hundred meters from the prison, in a small chamber, ten feet underground with rough dirt walls, a device sat. Activated by the burst signal sent by Worrel before his escape, this device readied its few systems. This device was of a type known well to Earth, and one that Earth had closely examined. Encased in a solid metallic shell, and lacking its holographic outer covering, this device was a Lucian Alliance naquadria bomb.
Fifteen-seconds after activation, the device detonated, not out of malice, but because that was its function. Consuming itself, this device unleashed seventy megatons of destructive power. Though it was far less powerful than its Tau'ri and Kelownan counterparts, the seventy megatons of destructive force unleashed was more than enough to destroy the prison, everyone and thing within twenty miles, and create a firestorm that swept across the wooded landscape of this world. Captain Vance and Colonel Owen; Blue Light Shooters and 160th SOAR pilots and aircraft; F-302's, FB-302's, and AC-142's were consumed in a single horrific event. From orbit, the crews of HNLMS Gouden Leeuw and SAS Erebus watched helplessly, powerless to intercede.
This trap, set months earlier by Kefflin, had succeeded. Despite the current state of the Lucian Alliance, reeling under the weight of a progressively more aggressive Tau'ri onslaught, the enemies of Earth had once again drawn blood. In coming days, Earth would vent her rage directly upon the Lucian Alliance, in a symphony of destruction fueled by bloodlust.