Bishop pressed a foot against the wall and launched herself at Charon. “Then why is it, if you are all the same, that he won’t give anyone the time of day and you girls are friendly.” Charon caught her, twisted in the air, and used her foot to bounce them gently back to the center of the room. “The first question has a simple answer. Odd digits are female, even digits are male.” She giggled as she cradled Bishop's head against her breast. “The second part is a bit complicated. It was decided that since there were so few of us, they would specialize us. Styx is very gifted at close quarters fighting and stealth. I was chosen for reconnaissance and long range target elimination.” She giggled as she remembered her training. “He was chosen to be a leader. Naturally, there are some aspects of leadership that require a harsh lesson.” Bishop suddenly realized why Watson chose to distance himself from the squad. “A platoon of drones, infertile clones, was created. He went on several missions, all of them highly successful. The powers that be decided that a mission would have to be sabotaged and the drones slaughtered. He was sent into an ambush and every soldier was killed.” Bishop imagined for a moment what it would be like to lose someone in front of her eyes and then tried to imagine it over and over. She shed a tear that drifted off her face and on to Charon.
“And his eyes?” asked Bishop.
“What of them?” responded Charon.
“His eyes are black. I've never seen eyes like that. Yours are blue while Styx's are red.”
“Well, from my understanding, I am purely Guntherian. Purer than the ancient magistrates. Styx is Belthonian, just as pure. Not a single drop of mixed blood.”
“How did they get pure blood? Not even the Empress has fully Belthonian blood.”
“I know. I don't know how they did it, just that they did it. Gunthix, on the other hand, is a complete mystery.”
Charon lifted Bishop’s face and whispered, “Styx is coming.”
The door opened and Styx entered the room, not shocked by the lack of clothes on its occupants. She drifted to the group in the middle and undid her flight suit. “If I hadn’t already come from one orgy, I’d join this one.” She chuckled and then added, “Hudson isn’t going to walk for a few hours. What have you two been doing --- besides the obvious?”
Charon reached her arm out for Styx and helped the suit off. “Regaling our history as the Empire’s greatest failure. She is going to be a historian pretty soon if she isn’t careful.”
Styx did a flip and stripped the rest of the suit off, leaving her in her glory and high-heeled boots. “It is pretty boring. Whatever she said about me was a lie, except the stuff about me killing an entire fleet. That was true.” Charon chuckled at her flight of fancy.
Charon cuddled Bishop some more. “Are there any other questions about the Lariot Program and Gunthix?” Bishop rubbed her cheek on her breast again.
“No, I can’t think of anymore right now.” Styx grabbed her and laughed, “Good, because I have a lot I want to find out about you.”
***
Watson was sitting in his study, quietly listening to music and idly filling out equipment request forms for non-essential, but entertaining, items. His personal data-pad began blinking. He examined it and discovered he had just received a sub-light message. Activating it, he was reminded of the past.
“Hey Father!” the sound and image of a young Belthonian filled the tiny screen, “How are you? I'm sure you are fine.” He answered her in his mind, everything was good. “Shock Trooper School is hard, but I am surviving.” He remembered his time on Lioss and smiled. “We are set to graduate in three full-cycles. The cadre told us that the Star Marshall will be there. I hope you will be there. I really want to see you.” He wanted to see her, too. “Oh,” she let out a loud squeal that reminded him of her in her youth, “There is a soldier. I don't know if it is anything serious, but I want you to meet her. She's a Guntherian, but I like her. I hope you will like her. She swears that she has more combat stripes than you, but I know you have more. She is nice.” His curiosity began to grow about who she was talking about. A noise in the background sounded. “Well, I have to go. I'd tell you, but I can't, and I know you already know all about it. Love, Solarix.” She reached toward the screen and the image flashed to a black screen providing details and options. He began to navigate it to reply when he was distracted. A dull green light began blinking in his room. He sighed and stood up.
He met the rest of the squad in the briefing room. He smiled to himself as he thought about the little things that never change and how his squad still kept their discipline on this simple assignment. He didn’t need to wait long for the major as he walked in shortly after him, followed by the ship’s skipper, Captain Hurst. Watson took his seat with his troopers.
Both officers had a serious look on their face. The skipper took to the center of the room and spoke lightly, “As of now, we believe that Princess Iris, her staff, and her guard are being held against their will.” No one breathed.
“Naturally,” Major Leadly cut in, “her rescue is our prime directive. We believe the Ikor attempted this hostage situation as there are no local battle groups in the area and the Royal Eagle is not a heavily armed cruiser. What they don’t know is we have you.” The officers parted the center of the room and exposed a diagram of a very large building as a collection of various geometric shapes surrounded by a thick, circular wall. A large group of green dots gathered in one location and a flashing purple dot appeared on the opposite side of the building.
Major Leadly sighed, “The obvious objective has already been stated. We are still drafting a battle plan. The current known variables are this: they are held underground, their transport appears to be undamaged, and a local thunderstorm will cover the area for the next three hours. We also know that the Ikor signature composite shield is already in place over the whole facility. This is their king’s palace and it will be heavily guarded.”
Gunthix stood up and walked to the diagram. “We drop here at this waterfall with chutes. The running water should cover our drop. We make our way up the stream and enter here at this railing. The team splits in three. One group secures the shuttle, another secures the staff and guard, and the last rescues the princess. We move silent and make our way back to the shuttle. Blast off to the cover of cannons.” It was a sound plan, but it had a few holes.
Charon approached the screen as she studied the diagrams that had been adjusted by Gunthix. “We can’t move blind. There is a ridge here where I can drop and provide good intelligence as well as cover fire if you need it. Also, conservative estimates that it will take 198 seconds for their shields to be up at full power and impenetrable. I’d need a single spotter.” Everyone agreed, but no one felt comfortable taking away Charon and another as this was a sensitive mission.
“I'll do it,” responded King. Rider shot her a fearful look. “Knight is the best shot in the unit, but she is the only one with the technical knowledge we will need to make sure the shuttle is green,” she spoke calmly, attempting to maintain what calm was left, “And that leaves me, the second best shot.”
The battle plan was ironed out. Two separate insertion teams, one as the rescue party and the other as a cover and reconnaissance team. Sneak in, sneak out. If there were any problems and the alarm was sounded, the cruiser would provide fire on the palace as a distraction. When they got in the air, the Lancer would follow as escort and possible sacrificial lamb for the Princess.
“Alright troopers,” Major Leadly was pushing for time, “This plan is sound and our time is running out. Move to the hanger.” They all left the room and headed for the hanger. Rider and King stayed back, holding hands. No one had a good feeling about this mission. A few of them rationalized it with the knowledge of the stakes at risk.
They suited up and checked their equipment. They were using lighter gear with less protection. The tradeoff was they were faster and quieter. Their weapons were also specially fitted with an adapter to accept sabot rounds. Sabo
t rounds didn’t have quite the punch as a standard round, but they were deathly silent. The technician advised them, “This lancer is stealthy as long as the engines aren’t at full power. We won’t need full power until we need to break atmosphere on our way back up.” This reassured their insertion would go well.
Charon and King approached the drop pods. King hesitated for a moment then stepped inside. Rider ran over and gave her a kiss, “I’ll see you in a little while.” She smiled and the pod closed. After the seal was insured and the darkness surrounded her, she cried a little. Rider rejoined the rest as they entered the Lancer. Watson gave him a moment and then spoke, “Team Prime is me, Gunthix, and Hudson. We are rescue party for the Princess. Team Beta is Styx, Patterson, and Malloy. You are the staff and guard rescue. Team Gama is Knight, Bishop, and Rider. You will secure the shuttle and make sure it’s in working order.” Everyone was silent. There were no questions as the lancer left the cruiser and headed for the planet. Watson closed his eyes and leaned back as he ran the mission through his head, became distracted, and remembered his first combat mission.
***
Watson opened his eyes, but couldn't see. He moved his arms and discovered his fear of being pinned wasn't realized. Wiggling free, the red sky began to fill his visor and he pushed rubble off. “Solara!” he called out naturally, but the short-wave amplified his cry.
“Watson,” a call responded, “Are you green?” Watson cleared the rubble and began searching for Solara.
“I'm green, Solara,” he answered as he surveyed the collapsed building, “Where are you?”
A lone hand emerged from the bits of the building. Watson rushed to it, tripping over mortar and pieces of metal, and grasped it. “Are you green, Solara?” he asked has he began to slowly clear her body from the rubble.
“I've been better,” she responded as her visor filled with the red from the sky.
“What the hell was that?” demanded Watson as he pulled her up into a sitting position and assessed her wounds: her leg was broken.
Solara looked around and studied the damage. All the buildings in visual range had been damaged in some form or another, most had been completely leveled. “Either the commander is still on the wall and called in a reaper strike to clear this area out,” she said as she surveyed her left arm, which was bent in the wrong direction, “Or Commander Athlon is dead and they leveled the place in response. If that is the case, then we still need to carry out the mission of disabling that cannon.” She said everything without any notion of fear. Watson helped her up, dragged an arm over his shoulders, and began the long journey toward the tower.
“What did you mean when you said the commander might be dead?” asked Watson as he continued to help her down the ruin littered street.
“If the command element was killed,” she answered, “then orbital believes that the mission is a failure. They send a reaper strike to level the area, then they send in a compressed strike team to the objective.” Watson studied the tower in front of him, the twin cannons on both sides began to glow as it charged up to fire a volley into a space.
“Here's what we are going to do, soldier,” Solara switched her tone, “I'm going to lay down some fire, rattle their cage, and distract them. I want you to rush the building and wait until they come out to flank me. Kill them, then we move in.” Watson released his grasp on her waist as she gingerly detached the shield from her arm.
“What's that sound?” he asked as she began to limp away.
She stopped and looked up, “The strike team.”
Watson looked up to see a lancer coming in almost completely vertical. “Good,” remarked Solara, “We can assist them and complete our mission.” Watson continued to watch the lancer as it tilted to the side and several tiny dots separated from the it. A different sound began, a series of loud thuds. Watson looked down and saw a Rodan with a large sword charging them.
“Solara!” he screamed as he raised his weapon to fire. The beast leaped into the air, landing between the two and knocking them down.
Watson squeezed the trigger on his rifle, guiding the blue line of fire into the armored back of the beast. The Rodan lifted the helpless Solara with its upper arms and prepared to strike with its lower arms. Watson's weapon quit shaking as the magazine became empty, forcing him to stare in fear from his back as Solara fought the strength of the massive being. Watson's short-wave radio picked up someone speaking, “Roger, I got it.”
Watson reloaded his weapon, drew the massive Rodan in his sights, and watched as a blur dropped in on the Rodan, forcing it to the ground. The Guntherian drew his blade out of the neck and forced it back down between the armor in the chest of the Rodan. Two more landed around Watson, one immediately rushed to Solara, while the other one grabbed him by the shoulders. “Name and unit,” the soldier demanded.
“Watson, my name is Watson. Third platoon of Dragoon Company,” answered Watson instinctively, “Who are you?” A large explosion sounded and the soldier grabbed Watson and threw him to the wall.
“Dublin, I'm with Gamma Squad of the Shock Troopers,” responded the soldier as more shock troopers landed, totaling the amount to eight, “And we are going to get you out of here after we take this cannon down.”
“What about her?” asked Watson, pointing to Solara. Several of the shock troopers lined up along the wall to the cannon in preparation for something. “I said,” Watson grabbed Dublin, “What about her!”
Dublin pushed Watson back down as the wall exploded, allowing the shock troopers to enter the building. “Calm down,” Dublin spoke through the short-wave radio, “I need you to just calm down.” Watson watched as two troopers surrounded Solara.
Watson stood up, prepared to help in any way that he could. He staggered over to them, then heard a short-wave transmission, “Roger that, Manchester.” He turned to see Dublin approaching him, shaking his head.
“I need to help her,” demanded Watson. The hit came so fast, he didn't see Dublin raise the weapon.
VII
As the lancer entered the atmosphere, the craft began to bump violently. The pilot radioed back to them, “It’s really windy guys. I’m going to have to drop you guys high so that I don’t power up my engines too high.”
Watson looked over the troopers and nodded. “That’s no problem with us. Open the door when you’re over the drop zone.” A green light filled the room and everyone stood up. They checked their equipment as routine. The door opened and a gust of wind filled the room.
“Time to drop troopers,” the pilot radioed, “and don't forget: never die with ammo.” They lined up and dove into the night sky.
The gusts of wind pushed them about, but they kept guiding themselves toward a tiny dot on their H.U.D. A sudden strong blast shook them and Watson could hear his helmet echo, “Oh shit, this is not good.” It was Bishop.
His H.U.D. flashed the location of his squad and its projected landing point and could see Bishop completely off track. He checked his altimetry-slaved timer, “Bishop,” he hesitated and spoke, “deploy your chute and rendezvous with Charon.” They only had thirty seconds left to drop and she wouldn’t be able to land with them or within the complex. Bishop hesitated and complied. The chute wasn’t designed for controlled or extended flight, but the wind would carry her far enough away from the complex to allow her entry without alarm.
Charon and King landed with a thunderclap. They exited their pods and dashed a short distance to their position. Charon placed her rifle on the ground, extended the bi-pod, and began scanning the palace. King took a prone position beside her and mimicked her. She could see the projected path of the troopers through her scanning scope.
Watson flipped himself into a standing position in free fall and prepared for the splash. “Rescue team,” his helmet echoed, “be advised: there is a sentry above insertion point. He appears to be occupied and is facing away. Over.” Watson switched his vision to thermal and concurred. His H.U.D. counted d
own until his chute deployed and readied his weapon in case the sentry decided to turn around.
Watson’s chute deployed and he floated for a short second before he landed into the water. He quickly pulled his chute back into his pack and waited. Additional splashes sounded in intervals as the team landed. “Styx,” his helmet echoed the calculating voice of Charon, “he’s turning around.” Another splash sounded, followed closely by a second and blood began filling the water. Watson eyed Styx as she withdrew her blade from the neck of the sentry. Malloy tied the body down as the long arms and legs of the lifeless body floated gently. Watson began a visual count of everyone to insure the whole team was there. He touched his helmet, “Bishop, what’s your location.”
Watson’s helmet echoed, “Still in the air, but I’m away from the complex. I’ll be in the air for another two minutes before I touch dirt.” He nodded to the team and gave the command for the team to move. They began moving through the water, part swimming and part walking. “Rescue,” his helmet echoed, “There is no noticeable movement along your projected route.” Watson wasn’t feeling confident, but hearing Charon's voice began to inspire him that the mission was going to start getting better. They had already had two disruptions and his team was one short. He privately prayed that nothing else went wrong.