Chapter 8 Part 1

Chapter 8


The Wildcard tore across the vast emptiness between the leading Trojan asteroid field and Jupiter. The crew were restless and tense. They had been in battle and fled the scene without much more than a scratch. Their hearts raced, their breath was still short, and all they could do was sit and guide their ship back to the com shuttle and the three remaining VRADs waiting with it. When they arrived, the remnants of the squadron fell into formation and resumed a slow course back to the Andromeda which in turn was rushing to meet them.

"Reactor at forty percent," Longshot reported. "If the Andromeda is on schedule and we aren't sidetracked, we should have enough fuel to make it back at this rate of fuel consumption."

"Man that was awesome," Roulette muttered quietly. He had not spoken since they had evacuated the battle space and outrun their pursuit. Since then only what was absolutely necessary had been said.

Blackjack began to have reservations about his crew and about the whole VRAD weapon system. It was too clean and easy. They had killed hundreds of Syndicate personnel whose only crime had been to be citizens of a competing economic union. All dead; and his crew had pulled the triggers. There had been no resolve, no taste of death, and no risk. Of course, had they lost their ship, they would have been grounded and probably reassigned to other duties with marred careers, but they were in absolutely no danger of losing their lives.

In a way, Blackjack tasted the loathing that many of the jocks held for VR crews. As for his people, they had always taken the jibes and teasing about their tight suits with a grain of salt, writing the abuse off to jealousy. Blackjack wondered if perhaps flying a VRAD was not just a little bit cowardly.

The final leg of the mission was uneventful. The appearance of the bright dot in the distance made everyone long to return to their apartments. When that bright dot swelled to the familiar rhomboidal kite shape of the carrier, impatience intruded upon discipline.
"Haunted House to Ghost Squadron, stand by to relinquish command to docking units."

"Haunted House this is Ghost Lead." Specter's voice betrayed his fatigue own. "We are ready to dock."

"Ghost Squadron, stand down and welcome home." The greeting was traditional and not necessarily sincere.

"We have docking telemetry," Longshot advised.

"Stand down," Blackjack ordered releasing his own controls. Almost immediately he reached up and detached himself from the VR module's systems. Without waiting for his crew members, he stood and vacated the module.

In the hallway, Duncan was waiting. "I know everyone is tired and hungry, but we have been ordered to the main briefing lounge."

"Why?" Drake asked.

"Because tonight we are going to be within striking range of that base again and the jocks are going to have to get out there and finish what we started. And I want them to have every scrap of intelligence we can squeeze from our flight recorders."

When the five crews entered the briefing room, it was filled with fighter pilots and fleet battle officers. Obviously it was expected for the Andromeda herself to take an active part in the upcoming battle.

The commodore opened the briefing. "Gentlemen," he began as the room's lights dimmed. "This morning's raid has yielded some very surprising results. Even though we lost one of the VRADs and a second one took enough damage to keep it from flying again for several weeks, we accomplished our primary objectives and inflicted massive amounts of collateral damage. "

"Ghost Squadron managed to destroy a Syndicate battle cruiser, a gunship and a total of thirty six fighters. In addition, three other gunships were heavily damaged as well as another battle cruiser, their flagship. Further, we have obtained invaluable data on a new fighter that they are using and its capabilities."

"Their own carrier was undamaged in the raid, and they still have an effective battle group. Between our own fighters, the Andromeda, and the VRADs, things are panning out to be an even fight. In this we are assuming that three VRADs will be effective in combating their damaged battle fleet and holding their fresh ships at bay. Already the VRAD project has paid for itself."

The audience murmured a bit in response. There was no arguing with the results of the raid, even so, many fighter pilots were less than appreciative.

Commodore Becker continued. "The Whirlpool's battle group will arrive about the same time that we do only from a different direction. That puts us in a very good position. Most of the Syndicate's attention is going to be on us. They have the bulk of the asteroid field between them and our reinforcements. If we can preoccupy them, our forces can sneak up behind them and work them over without having to deal with their defenses."

The commodore turned the briefing over to Colonel Pharr. The colonel approached the podium and keyed the viewer. A diagram of the fighters that attacked the Wildcard appeared. The rear ball on a flat disk shape still reminded Blake of a plate with uneaten mashed potatoes.

"From the telemetry we gathered during the raid, we have some information about the new Syndicate fighter. There are several puzzling advantages it seems to have and we still do not know what it is capable of."

"First and foremost, the new fighter appears to be ray shielded." This statement produced several groans from the fighter pilots.

One pilot raised his voice. "Sir, how is that possible? We have been trying to do that for years. It is generally accepted that the energy drain of the craft's reactor is too great."

"We have a theory that would explain the presence of the shield, but it is only a guess. Also if what we suspect is true, the new fighters will be more maneuverable and aggressive than yours."

"More aggressive?" Lt. Colonel Farland asked.

Colonel Pharr clarified. "Unfortunately, that is the only way I can explain it accurately. It is not meant to question your courage or patriotism."

"Our engineers and technicians are of the opinion that the new fighters are the Syndicate's first attempt in unmanned combat craft."

"You mean VRADs," a junior pilot offered.

"That is a possibility," the colonel admitted, "though they may not actually use Virtual Reality. They may just use a mockup. That was the way our VRAD system began. We went with VR when we realized that a mockup was far too difficult to maintain. It had to be repeatedly disassembled, repaired and monitored. VR is simply a program."

"But their pilots are in no physical danger, so they don't have to fear for their lives," the junior pilot added. It was apparent that he was a VRAD hater. It was also apparent from most of the other pilot's faces that they agreed with him. Several of the senior jocks, however, made their displeasure at his outburst known.

"Lt. Render," Roundhouse interrupted. "If you don't mind, I would like to hear the rest of the briefing."

"Let him speak, colonel," Pharr urged. "His fears are based in fact. I want him to respect the power of these new fighters. Maybe that respect will save his life."

The colonel glared at the outspoken jock who retreated back into his seat silently. "We have some suggestions that may help in neutralizing some of those advantages," he continued.

"First, fly in pairs and let each pair fly in pairs. If you maintain a foursome, you can take a lot of their maneuverability away from them."

"Their shields appear to be the standard kind. If they are indeed drones, the lack of a cockpit and life support would give them enough space to install a larger reactor and shielding systems. Ray weapons may not work well against them, but missiles and kinetic weapons should. We are reconfiguring your adders with rocket pods instead of particle cannons. That drops your ability against armored battle craft. To compensate for that, we are refueling and rearming Ghost Squadron. They will go out with you and keep the battle fleet off your backs until our reserves get here."

"You will get your flight profiles prior to launch. Until then, are there any further questions about the general attack plan?" the colonel asked.

There were none so Colonel Pharr dismissed the members of Ghost Squadron. "I know the VRAD crews have been just landed for the most part and would like to get some rest. Major Duncan, would you have your people return in six hours. I would like to fill them in on the next phase of the mission."

Major Duncan saluted smartly in reply. As he led his squadron out the door, he heard a remark from the room. "Don't see why they would be tired, they haven't done anything."
He wouldn't have responded even if he wanted to, but he was pleased by the outburst that followed from one of the senior pilots.

"Shut up snot nose," the voice said as the door slid shut.

"One of these days I am going to punch Render in the nose," Ben muttered.

"Don't waste the effort," Lee advised. "It will only let them know that they are getting to you. Then you'll really hear it."

"I still think," Lochlear conceded, "that a good belting would solve more problems than it would cause."

"Don't worry about Render," Shamus urged. "The more experienced jocks will take care of him for you."

"Yeah," Ben laughed. "It sounded like Roundhouse was getting a little tired of that smart mouth."

"Where does he get that attitude?" Shamus wondered. "Most jocks are content to silently hate us in private."

"His grandfather was an ace in the first extraterrestrial conflict. The old man was awarded the Terran Star of Valor." Lee Drake was a history buff in addition to being a former intelligence officer. "I think he is afraid that VRADs will make jocks obsolete before he can make a hero of himself as well."

They reached their apartment and immediately went to their respective rooms to get some rest. None of them were eager to bluff insomnia.