A few thousand metres above the stricken Coalition vessel, Master Sergeant Santini was reconsidering his options. The original plan was to drop down from orbit in Drop Pods which would have been deployed out of the Epsilon’s hangar bay one at a time, but now that they were directly above the Barrier Generator, a more accessible option was available.

  “Flight packs.” Santini ordered. “Set them for the correct altitude!”

  The members of Blue Team, made up mostly of ex-US military personnel, moved away from their drop pods over to the opposite wall of the hangar and started prepping their flight packs. The packs were going to be used as a backup, but now they were the primary and had already been programmed to take the user to an assault point near the Barrier Generator from anywhere within a conical area above Kansas.

  Santini picked up his pack without any effort in his red, white and blue power armour. Checking that the systems were fully operational, he synched the guidance systems to his HUD and confirmed that he was all set. Walking over to the still open hatch of the hangar, Santini checked his weapon, then checked on the rest of his team.

  “Once you step out of the ship, the packs should do the rest of the work for you.” He said. His voice was calm. He had run dozens of missions on Earth with Delta Force before his injury, this was just another job. “When you hit the ground, get with your battle-buddy, check what the status of local forces is, and when you’ve got a handle on things, attack. Don’t wait for me.”

  A series of ‘rogers’ came back over the comms net.

  “Stand to the door.” Santini ordered and watched as the rest of his team put their toes on the edge of the hangar.

  “Ship Master Ranix, Blue Team deploying.”

  “Good hunting, Master Sergeant.” Ranix replied over the comms.

  Santini looked down. They were above some clouds, and he couldn’t see the ground. He had done several hot insertions in the past, just not in broad daylight. This would be a first.

  Before Santini could give his final orders, the comms net clicked. “This is TSG Six.” It was Major Tattersall. “Earth expects every man will do his duty.” The link went off.

  “Blue Team, drop.” Santini ordered

  With his command, the fifteen members of Blue Team stepped out of the Epsilon towards Kansas.

  Santini smiled behind his helmets blast shield as he dropped towards the ground.

  53-3/66 Armour

  “Gunner!” Shawn Williams voice was getting horse. “Sabot! Enemy vehicle!”

  The tankers of 3/66 Armour were burning through ammunition like there was no tomorrow.

  “Up!”

  “Fire!”

  “On the way!”

  The 120-millimetre cannon roared when the trigger was pulled.

  “Target!” The gunner reported seconds later.

  The massive blue shielding that was wrapped around the Barrier Generator was starting to flutter. The opening salvos that 3/5 FA had poured into the top of the shield coupled with the tankers fire was beginning to wear it down. At first, the shells had just vaporised on impact, now they were cutting through.

  “All Knight’s!” Williams toggled his company-wide channel. “Rounds are cutting through. Target the tower!”

  He had lost half his strength to enemy fire once the Abrams had come into view, but now that their rounds were finding their mark, he felt like the tide was about to turn.

  “Williams.”

  “Go Star Guard.”

  “We have friendly forces dropping onto our location.”

  That put a smile on Williams' face. About damn time.

  “Incoming!”

  The tanks gunner saw the missile coming at them from the forces protecting the Barrier Generator first. The reactive armour on the hull of the ship clacked off. It should have defeated any anti-tank missile fired at it, but once this missile crossed the one hundred metre mark, it split up, almost like a MIRV, with one missile leading the charge followed by four more. The weapon was designed to defeat reactive armour, and after the first missile was taken out, the following three slammed into the seventy-ton machine.

  The first missile hit the front hull, killing the driver instantly. The second missile hit the left track, spinning the tank violently in the opposite direction, and the third missile slammed into the middle of the left track, knocking the Abrams onto its side.

  Smoke, darkness, screaming. It all came at once as the tank came to a stop.

  Shawn Williams shook his head, and let out a cough in the cramped interior of the tank that was rapidly filling with smoke.

  “Sound off!” He ordered.

  “Brown.”

  “Davis.”

  “Wilson?” Williams called out to the driver.

  “He’s dead.” Answered Brown.

  “Everyone out!” Williams ordered.

  Popping the top hatch, the smoke billowed out of the tank and Williams sprawled out, falling down to the ground. Looking back to the tank, he watched the surviving three members of his crew follow him out and onto the churned over the field that the tank had just passed over. The front end of the Abrams had been completely smashed in, and the left side had a massive hole in it.

  Sitting up, Williams checked himself over. He was intact. No injuries. Standing, he raised his hands up to the troop commander hatch, and pulled himself up, and crawled back into the turret. He needed to confirm Wilson was dead.

  It took him a few seconds to find a flashlight and get into a position where he could see Wilson. His torso had been severed in half, and his legs were missing. He knew his driver had died swiftly.

  Shifting his body, he grabbed the M4 that was by his seat and crawled back out of the tank. Hitting the ground, Williams looked at the surviving tanks as they pressed their attack towards the station. He had been fortunate that he hadn’t had any infantry riding atop his tank when they had been hit, they would have been killed instantly.

  Off to the sides of the tanks, he could see some of the Alliance troops firing and manoeuvring towards the Barrier Generator, with the Canadian forces in support, hammering away with their rifles and machine guns. The noise was deafening.

  Getting his mind right, Williams looked at his surviving tank crew and chambered a round in his M4. “Grab the small arms.” He pointed towards the Barrier Generator. “We’re not out of the fight yet!”

  54-The Seven

  “The Epsilon is through the shielding.” Major Jefferson said, nodding to himself. “If they can get Blue Team on the ground, we might be able to insert the rest of the teams sharpish.”

  Mike Tattersall nodded. “If Blue Team accomplishes its mission, we won’t need the rest of the teams.” His eyes were fixed on the main view screen that had the Earth in the centre of it. It looked beautiful.

  “Transmission coming from the Coalition flagship.” Reported a communications tech.

  “Go.” The Ship Master ordered.

  “They are requesting a truce.”

  “They are going to be dead inside five minutes.” Ship Master Yakari countered. “Unconditional surrender, now, or they die.”

  Mike looked at Yakari, then at Kol Fine. “Looks like the party might be ending prematurely.”

  Kol Fine shook his head. “You would be surprised how infrequently that happens.”

  “We’ve got them out-gunned.” Mike said.

  “You are right, but in modern space warfare, there are very few instances of ships surrendering. Fear of being spaced, or just pushed into a star.” Kol Fine crossed his arms. “And even if the commander wants to surrender, that doesn’t guarantee that the rest of his ships will.”

  “Detecting more fluctuations in the shielding.” A tech reported. “Could drop at any moment.”

  55-Maputo

  “Do you have everything you need?” Nyussi asked.

  Shakil nodded. He hadn’t taken much. His phone, two books and some clothes.

  “Get in.”

  The door of the G-Wagon was already open, and Shakil climbed inside into its black leather interior.

  “It’s all over, Shakil.” Nyussi shook his head.

  The Mercedes started rolling, slowly at first, but once Nyussi had the vehicle on the main road heading north along the Indian Ocean, he got the heavy car moving as fast as it would go.

  “Three hours.” Nyussi said. “We’ll be back in Zavala in around three hours. I understand things are much calmer there.” He shook his head. “Maputo is over. I’d be shocked if anyone is alive in the morning.”

  Shakil remained silent as the SUV raced northwards. The sun was starting to set to the west, but the blueness of the Indian ocean off to their right was as mesmerising as ever.

  56-Earth Orbit

  “How many ships do we have?” Sector Commander Varus was desperately trying to get a grasp of the situation that was rapidly spiralling out of his control. “This is hopeless.” He looked over to the communications station. “Signal all ships to jump out!” The system was lost, almost as quickly as the Coalition had taken it.

  “Move us away from Terra!” The Ship Master yelled at the pilot. “Get the moon between us and that thing before it sets its eyes on us.”

  The Ship Master was right. The Alliance Fleet Command ship hadn’t fired upon them yet, but it was just a matter of time before the four-hundred-metre-long Lone Hunter drew fire.

  “Enemy ship approaching!”

  Varus looked down at his tactical display. The approaching ship was a destroyer, not in their class, and not a threat. Looking back to the system, he watched as the remaining elements of his flotilla jumped away, vanishing from the display until his was the last ship in the system.

  “Prepare to jump!” The Ship Master ordered.

  “Jumping in thirty!”

  Varus leaned back in his chair. What a disaster. He didn’t know what to expect when he made it back to the Pohjois. Imperator Casix was dead, he had no direct superior, and there was supposed to be a peace conference about to happen. It was genuinely uncertain times.

  “Jumping in ten.”

  “Fleet Command ship is moving to get a shot on us!”

  “Flight, maximum speed.” The Ship Master moved towards Varus’s chair. “We can perform a rolling jump without an issue.”

  Varus looked at the Ship Master, then slumped into the chair.

  “Incoming!”

  The blast from the gargantuan Alliance vessel sliced the Lone Hunter almost entirely in half. With the engines still pushing, the stress load on the back of the ship ripped it away from the front half, before spiralling out of control towards the moon.

  Everyone on the bridge that wasn’t sitting down was thrown across the vast open space. Everyone sat down had an emergency restraint hold them in place, and after the initial impact of the blast, everything settled down.

  Varus righted himself in his chair. There was no point in calling for a damage report. It was clear that the ship was mortally wounded. Now it was just a question if the hull would maintain its integrity, or if it would buckle from the exterior pressure.

  Checking his tactical display, Varus confirmed that they were the last remaining Coalition vessel in the system. Now it was just the wait until they were destroyed. He knew how space combat worked. Crippled ships were dragged or pushed into the nearest star. Their crews sent to their deaths.

  “Do we have any jump capable shuttles in the hangar?” Varus asked out loud.

  “If the hangar is still intact, there should be two long-range troop carriers.” The Ship Master replied, cradling a broken arm. “Should hold almost one hundred crew each.”

  Varus nodded. “First two hundred crew that makes it there gets to live.” He said. “I’m staying.”

  “A shuttle is departing the Alliance ship.” A voice called out from the tracking station. “Appears to be heading for our position.”

  Varus wasn’t sure what to make of it. A shuttle wouldn’t be able to drag the remainder of the Lone Hunter towards the star. There could be only one reason for launching a shuttle, they intended to board. That left Varus with two very different options, order the crew and droids on the ship to prepare to repel boarders or to just wait until the Alliance forces eventually made their way to the bridge.

  “Order all forces not evacuating to prepare to repel boarders.”

  He might have been sick of the war, and he might have just lost the system, and his command ship might have just been sliced in half, but he wasn’t about to let enemy troops take him captive. There was a limit to how much he could take.

  57-Blue Team

  Master Sergeant Santini dropped his thruster-pack to the ground, dropped to one knee, and brought up his rifle, taking his bearings.

  Ahead of him, just under half a kilometre was the Barrier Generator, the blue shielding extending one hundred metres beyond that. On the other side of the massive tower was a mass of armour and infantry pouring fire into the Coalition positions.

  “Blue Team!” He called out over his comms net. “We’ve got the enemy between the locals and us.”

  They were in an open field, just like the one 3/66 armour was charging through, albeit one with sabot and high-explosive rounds flying over their heads from the tankers that missed their mark, not to mention the massive stream of small-arms fire coupled with .50 calibre rounds from the tanks.

  Checking that the entire team was on the ground, Santini executed his plan. “Turn on your TSG trackers, and activate your Blue Team glow.”

  Santini was waiting for a groan from the team, but it didn’t come. Each team dropping onto Earth had special accent lighting added to their armour so that they would appear to have a shimmer to the naked eye, thus preventing them from getting blasted to bits by any local forces, but it also made them easier to spot by the opposition.

  Switching channels within his HUD, Santini brought up the channel the local forces were supposed to be on. “This is TSG Blue Team, on the ground, assaulting the Barrier Generator.” He switched channels. “Move in.”

  When Santini had been in the US army, moving in was a steady walk towards a target. Now, trained by Dynamic Operations, in power armour, move in meant charge. Get in close to the target using the suits enhanced capabilities and kill whatever enemy was there.

  Like a wave racing towards the shore, Santini and the other fourteen operators in his team were on their feet, rushing towards the Barrier Generator without a second thought. They all suspected that the enemies attention would be directed elsewhere, allowing them an almost unopposed assault on the sizeable defensive position that had been in Kansas for roughly four months.

  “Dona, hit the tower with the H-Mis.” Santini ordered.

  Dona had already anticipated the command. “Rounds away!” The Canadian shouted over the net as the Heavy Missile raced towards the Barrier Generator.

  Santini looked to his right to see a pair of guided missiles race away from the attacking group and streak towards the Barrier Generator. They were the biggest punch the team had on the surface and were supposed to be able to penetrate the shielding that engulfed the tower.

  The weapons worked just like they were supposed to, and sliced through the shielding, then slammed into the side of the Barrier Generator. While the hits might not have reduced the shields overall effect in protecting the site, they did damage the tower. The tide was turning.

  58-Red Team

  Major Nikita Pullinski was returning to Earth a free man. The last time he was on the planet’s surface, he was a guest of the United States Penitentiary, Leavenworth. This time he was dropping into the jungle of Myanmar. His team had the least understanding of what they were going to encounter on the surface. The Support Team and Gold Team were dropping onto clearly visible target sites. Myanmar was a different beast.

  “Red Team, Hood actual. Ready to drop.” The Ship Master said over the comms channel.

  “Red Team ready.” Nikita replied.

  “We are two-hundred K above the surface. Firing in ten seconds.”

  Half the distance to where the International Space Station used to be, Nikita thought to himself. The drop pods would need two minutes to get from the ship to the surface. During almost the entire journey they would be susceptible to enemy fire from ships in orbit, and possible weapons emplacements on the surface. There was a lot that could go wrong on the drop down.

  “Drop!”

  Nikita exhaled sharply as his genetically and technologically modified body reacted to the sudden increase of stress on his frame. The drop pods were fired out of tubes on the underside of the Hood and were now rocketing towards Earth’s atmosphere at Mach five.

  Nikita was able to monitor his teams progress from his Heads-Up-Display. His fifteen-man unit was on a one-way trip. There would be no recall once the drop-pods were launched. There was also no planned extraction or reinforcement of their positions on the surface once they touched down. It was simple, Red Team neutralises the threat in Myanmar, or they die trying.

  “Red Team.” Nikita brought up the team-wide channel. “Be ready for anything when we hit the surface. Locals, wild beasts, and the enemy.” He was well aware that fighting in the jungle was dangerous, and his men would have to be alert at all times.

  59-Gold Team

  “Enemy fire coming off the island!” Senior Master Sergeant Jensen shouted over the net. Eighteen years in the US Air Force as a Combat Controller and this was his first hot landing zone. It was also his first combat drop from space.

  While this might have been Jensen’s first drop on a hot LZ, he was experienced enough to understand the data that was being presented to him through his HUD. The fire that was coming up from the island was sporadic, not even reaching the altitude the drop pods were still at, and wildly inaccurate.

  Switching screens, Jensen rechecked their target location. He knew that the Nexus Drive was at the highest point on Amsterdam Island, Mont de la Dives, so they had planned to drop onto the slope north of the target, then make their assault. The island wasn’t huge, but they needed to drop outside of the small-arms range from the shield complex, but close enough to make a rapid assault. The shield covering Earth might have been faltering, but they needed it dead, and if Jensen and his team moved quickly enough, they might just save the day.

 

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