Chapter 8 Part 2

Several hours later, Blake awoke and checked his clock. There was just enough time to wake the crew, get them washed and fed, then report to the main briefing room.
Blake flipped his clock back and touched a switch in the panel beneath. In the other three rooms, the alarms responded and woke the crew of the Wildcard.

Blake stepped into the commons area and turned the heat up a little bit. He entered the kitchen and dialed a dozen hard boiled eggs and eight strips of bacon. Then he powered up the beverage dispenser and requested a pot of coffee and four mugs.

A noise behind him caused Blake to glance over his shoulder in time to see Shamus sitting at the bar with his head resting in his arms. "Good morning," Blake offered.

"Are you sure it's morning?" Shamus asked. He lifted his head and reached out to grab the remote control for the wall sized video monitor.

"It had better be," Blake stated. "Because if it isn't then the colonel is going to take us apart."

Shamus flipped through the ship wide network until he found the broadcast he was looking for.

A newscast from the Mars showed citizen stock prices. After the Syndicate attacks, the prices had dropped sharply, but as a result of the recent VRAD raid, the Market's stock value had jumped considerably.

"Well I hadn't expected that," Shamus exclaimed with a grin.

"What is it," Blake asked as he offered Shamus three eggs, two strips of bacon and a mug of coffee.

"My stocks just jumped five percent as a result of yesterday," Shamus said. "I never thought that I could have that much affect on my earnings."

"How much of your commission is in stocks, if you don't mind my asking?" Blake inquired.

"Twenty percent of my salary is in stock," Shamus answered. "I invested in Research and Development. It is a little more risky than the more popular stocks, but when it does pay off, it pays off big."

"So the success of the VRAD program increased your net worth by five percent?" Blake asked.

"Right," Shamus turned around and began to peel an egg. "How about you? Are you buying into the Market?"

"Yes," Blake answered. "But I am less risky. I am buying into medical and pharmaceuticals. It is a fairly steady yield."

"I thought about that one too," Shamus concurred. "But for some reason I decided against it."

"I knew one fellow who made a partial investment in public entertainment. Six months later he had increased his value one thousand times. A year later and he was flat broke." Blake recalled a former roommate at flight school.

"Those erratic stocks can be like that. You have to know when to get in and when to get out."

"Next," Lee said as she came around the corner with her damp hair plastered against her bare back. She was wearing only her trousers and her breasts were still damp where she had not dried them properly.

"Put a shirt on," Blake requested. "I don't need you getting sick." Her nudity did not distract him or any of the other two men in the least. Drake was a comely enough woman, but the crew looked upon each other as siblings more than anything else.

Shamus finished his breakfast and made a bee-line for the shower that Lee had just vacated. Blake himself finished his food more slowly since he had to wait for Ben to finish bathing before he could take a shower himself.

Half an hour later, Blake's crew were sitting before the monitor looking at the maintenance records from Ghost Squadron.

"Man that sucks," Ben griped.

"What is it," Blake said as he struggled into a clean tunic.

"The Dixie has had a major fault in the guidance system," Shamus informed him.

"Serious?" Blake asked his navigator.

"She can't fly," Shamus replied.

"Damn," Blake swore. "That just leaves the Wraith and us."

"I really wish we had not lost the Storm now," Lee mused. "If we had more time, the Bandit could be ready to fly again. Her problems are not too serious, but there are an awful lot of them."

"So we are down to two flyable VRADs," Ben leaned back and propped his feet up. "This is just wonderful."

"What is our weapons load?" Blake asked.

"A belly full of SRAMs," Shamus reported. "The cannons are pre-charged, and the rail gun has a full load. In addition Major Duncan ordered a case of Herpies for us."

Blake smiled. Herpies was slang for the HERPs, the high explosive rocket pods. The pods were attached to the forward kinard stabilizer structure, one to either side of the rail gun. The rockets could be launched in a volley, or singly. Firing all rockets at once actually did considerable damage and was referred to as giving the enemy a case of Herpies.

"What is our ECM status?"

Lee stood from her chair. She felt better talking on her feet. "As before, the ECM is unrestricted. This time, since we are not carrying nukes, we are loaded with a cyber combat package as well. We didn't have to worry about cyber attacks before because we caught them off guard, and it takes time to set up a cyber attack. But you can bet they will be ready this time."

"I really don't like the idea of cyber warfare," Blake cursed.

"Well our data link is almost invulnerable since we use fractal polynomials to modulate the quantum frequency," Ben promised.

"Our most vulnerable area is our sensor array," Lee warned. "If they slip something by us, that is what we will lose first. If I can't catch it before it gets too deep, we could lose the ship. If the CCP senses that we are flying blind in a combat theater, it will self destruct the Wildcard."

"Let's try not let that become necessary," Blake hoped. He tied his shoe and walked over to the slot machine. He pulled the handle and watched two bells and a cherry pop up.

"Come on, Gamblers," Blake McCoy urged as he keyed the door. His crew followed, each pausing only long enough to pull the handle on the slot machine.

They passed by the hangar bays on their way to the briefing room. Through the observation portal they could see the crew of the Storm assisting with the maintenance of one of the remaining VRADs. Though they each saw the scene, they averted their eyes when they saw one of the dispossessed crew glance their way.

"I don't know if you guys saw Thunder and the rest of his crew, but I don't want to end up like that," Ben declared after they had passed the hangar.

"They looked like ghosts," Shamus recalled.

"They might as well be ghosts," Blake informed them. "Without a ship, they will be reassigned to support duties."

"I thought the colonel promised that the loss of our ships as a result of combat would not be charged to us," Ben argued.

Blake shrugged. "To err is human," he began.

"To forgive is not Market policy," Shamus concluded. It was an ancient quote whose origin was lost in military antiquity.

"I know its not fair," Blake agreed. "But military life rarely is fair. Do you remember the Veterans of the Cold War Memorial in Toronto? More careers were lost in the Cold War due to small mistakes than at any other time in military history."

"And that wasn't right then either," Ben objected. "Imagine, one wrong action and your entire career was over."

"The VRAD program is a lot like that," Blake pointed out. "Back then they dealt with thermonuclear weaponry. They could not afford any mistakes. The VRADs are under such scrutiny that we can't afford to make mistakes either."

"At least there is a Cold War Memorial," Lee mused.

"There is now," Blake agreed. "But it was not dedicated until one hundred years after the end of the Cold War."

"I've seen that memorial," Shamus offered. "It is a three sided marble pyramid. Bombers, ICBMs and submarines are engraved on the sides. It gives you something to think about really. No blood was shed, but a lot of sacrifices were made."

"No one made the ultimate sacrifice," Ben pointed out.

"Believe it or not," Blake countered, "sometimes dying is an easier sacrifice to make than one you have to live with."

Shamus opened the door to the main briefing room. At that moment it was vacant. "Some of those people gave up most of what they had and lived their lives in isolation and near poverty for an ideal," he said as he followed Blake into the room.

"And some of them were hated by the very people they defended," Lee added, "especially the ICBM crews. They didn't even have the glory of flying to solace them."

"They were all martyrs," Blake stated. He took a seat and leaned back. He propped his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him. "They did their thankless jobs because they believed in their purpose."

The door opened again and Major Duncan entered with his elite crew in tow. They wore spotless, pressed uniforms and highly polished boots.

"I guess you are aware that we two are the only ships flying in this next segment," Duncan began. "That changes things slightly, but the major plan remains the same. We have to punch a hole through their fighters and keep the heavy ships preoccupied. We don't want them to get close enough to the Andromeda to destroy her."

"Once we get through their fighters, we shouldn't have to worry about them any more. Our own jocks will work them over. We can give our undivided attention to their battle craft. If we keep them busy enough, they will never see our own battle fleet until it is too late."

"How you going to hide all those destroyer?" Lee asked.

"The Whirlpool's ships are coming out of the sun with the whole asteroid field between them and the Syndicate ships. The sun, our own ECM systems and the millions of rock fragments will degrade their scans from that area."

"CCP?" Blake asked.

The ECM officer of the Wraith answered. "The cyber combat packages have been loaded with every antibody that we are aware of. In addition, we are setting a new virus in the CCP armament. We have far more experience with remotes. If the new Syndicate fighters are a form of drone, we may be able to infect their systems, and perhaps capture one."

The door opened again and a few jocks drifted in. They wordlessly took seats near the front of the room. Both VRAD crews seated themselves properly and quietly conversed as the room continued to fill.

Several of the younger jocks entered, flashed looks of hatred at the VRAD crews then glanced nervously at their seniors. Obviously they had been reprimanded for their previous attitudes.

There was surprisingly little said as the rest of the command staff entered. The commodore was absent and Colonel Pharr opened the meeting.

"Gentlemen, our moment of truth is here. Within the hour you will be launching against superior forces. It is your sole mission to get their attention, inflict as much collateral damage as possible, and return safely. If you can keep them occupied until our reinforcements arrive, we will gain a numerical advantage."

The General stepped down and yielded the podium to the senior fighter pilot. Roundhouse stepped up and outlined the jocks' mission objectives and strategies. "Mix it up with them," he urged. "After the VRADs' raid, they are down to comparable numbers and we should be able to face them on a one to one ratio. Don't tangle with their newer fighters solo. If they try to engage you, pair off and use the tactics we discussed earlier. If all else fails, lead them into the Andromeda's defensive envelope."

"Don't try to engage the heavier ships," Roundhouse warned. "That is what VRADs are for. Just keep the fighters occupied."

Roundhouse stepped down and Major Duncan replaced him. "When we launch," he told the jocks, "form up behind the two operational drones. We will use the drones to provide ECM cover and hide your numbers until we engage the enemy. We will use our heavier firepower to blast a hole in their fighter screens. That should throw them into a temporary chaos and give you an unmolested first shot at them. Once we get through, they are all yours. We will be going after the bigger fish."

Colonel Pharr resumed the podium. "If there are no questions, you are to proceed to your assignments."

Major Duncan eyed the people in the ready room. They had left the briefing and reported directly to the conference lounge next to the VRAD modules. Each occupant was in full battle dress with helmets in hand. Duncan had very few words to say.

"By no means are we safe," he reminded them. "The Andromeda is going into full combat with heavy battle craft. It is entirely possible that we could take crippling blows. Unfortunately all we have left are two drones. Even though the attack was a success, the others were beaten soundly by the enemy in our last raid."

"We can not afford to let fresh battle craft launch attacks on the Andromeda. As a last resort, you are to follow the Storm's lead and ram the enemy ships, but only as a last resort. Bandit and Dixie will be held in reserve for defense. So you will not be completely without backup. But considering their degraded status, they will not be much good."

Specter critically surveyed the seven people in his command. They were all aware of the stakes. "All right Ghost Squadron, go get em."