This wasn't supposed to happen; then again, nothing ever goes according to plan. But it did make Pym feel extremely apprehensive. Up to this point, the plan had gone smoothly. He had succeeded in taking over the Znutar by gassing the crew while they slept during night watch and he was able to make two consecutive jumps into the uninhabited Polyphemos system before everyone knew what had happened. He was supposed to rendezvous with WOB forces the moment he completed the jump.

  Only his allies weren't there; at least, not yet. Pym hoped that they were just delayed for a few hours and not days. He was all alone in the Znutar, a concerted effort by the hostages would ruin his chances of being reunited with his blessed brethren and quite possibly doom the mission to failure. The operational parameters were such that it would be prudent to actually retrieve the blasphemous datadisk so as to assure the wavering factions in WOB that the heresy wasn't real by discounting it publicly. And not to mention the accolades which would be awarded to him by the utter success of the mission.

  As he plugged into the untarnished auxiliary oxygen supply by the use of his space suit's umbilical, Pym continued to stare at the monitors that showed the two docked DropShips along the Znutar's hardpoints. The detonation command for the fusion bomb was only one mouse-click away. Pym had hoped to give the hostages a warning if they violated the rules; perhaps a sudden threat would cower them before he would trigger the detonation. Although he was ready to die for the cause, Pym hoped that it wouldn't have to come to that.

  Beads of sweat flowed freely down Pym's forehead despite the cold environment. His space suit's visor had also begun to frost over from the difference in temperature but he hurriedly wiped it off. Pym had been in the suit for several hours now and was feeling extremely uncomfortable. Where in Blake's hell were his backups?

  A loud crunching noise that reverberated along the ship's hull automatically jolted him from his mental lethargy as his hands shook. Looking around the monitors nervously, Pym noticed a stream of garbage float out from one of the DropShip's airlocks. The Amerigo was jettisoning her trash.

  Pym cursed at himself. Although it was a provocative action, he never threatened them if they did that; not to jettison one's trash was not part of the instructions that he had given. Pym quickly stabbed the button to activate the ship's comm. system and directed his message to both DropShips. "Attention all DropShips, you are not to jettison your garbage at this time, if you attempt to make another provocation, we will explode the bomb. Do not test us again!" He said tersely, hoping that making them believe there was more than just him on board would make them stay cowed. 

  Like his counterpart, beads of sweat formed on Sergeant Eddie Pryce's forehead as well. He knew he couldn't wipe it off because that would mean he would have to open his armored space suit's visor and expose himself to the deadliest environment known to man. But then again, he was used to being in these types of situations. Pryce and his men had secretly left the Amerigo when the DropShip started to dump her trash into the vacuum of space. It was an ideal distraction for it focused the attention of the terrorists away from the real action. Since there was no bright flash that indicated a nuclear detonation, it looked like it was working so far.

  Pryce knelt along the outer hull near the aft thrusters of the Znutar, patiently waiting for his colleague to finish the security bypass on one of the JumpShip's aft vents. If they had tried to access the airlocks, cameras located nearby would have surely spotted them, that there was a possibility that a terrorist could also be guarding each airlock entrance could also not be discounted. The rest of Pryce's squad, virtually the entire SLDF contingent on the Amerigo, waited close by, crouching and trying their best to avoid the surveillance monitors placed all along the hull of the Znutar.

  After a few tense minutes that seemed like centuries, Pryce's colleague turned around and made a thumbs-up sign as the other men began to use pneumatic drills to remove the outer casing of the vent. Once they were able to get inside, the team would be able to make their way into an maintenance causeway and then on towards both the JumpShip's bridge and engineering sections. As Captain Natasha Kerensky outlined it on the radio, she said that it would have a very slim chance of succeeding against a well-prepared terrorist unit; both Pryce and the Black Widow were counting on the limited numbers of the terrorists so that they could be rapidly overwhelmed and the bomb disarmed before enemy reinforcements would arrive. Needless to say, it was easier said than done. Due to the fact that she was commanding the operation as well as lack of any equipment on the Space Beagle, Natasha had to stay behind and leave the actual operation to Pryce. As the SLDF sergeant followed the point man inside the vent shaft, the Black Widow held her breath.

  Pym was now becoming a nervous wreck. It had been many hours now and still no sign of the backup unit. That the hostages made an unexpected move also began to make his already unhinged mind even more paranoid. Pym began to imagine hordes of enemy commandos just waiting outside the door of the bridge, weapons drawn and grim, blackened faces permeated his imagination. As his knees began to tremble, he heard a loud beep on the ship's sensors. Quickly glancing over to the ship's radar console, he noticed that the Znutar's computer had stated that another JumpShip just appeared several hundred kilometers off his port bow. With a loud whoop, Pym nearly jumped out of his chair. His allies had arrived.

  Precentor Brandon St. Jamais fought a momentary bout of disorientation as the JumpShip Zarathustra entered the pirate point near the gas giant. The younger brother of the WOB Precentor-Martial made a silent curse to himself for their late arrival; they had experienced a moderate breakdown when a portion of their solar sail got shredded when they made the jump from Terra to Procyon. That they had forgotten to bring spare parts for the sail only added to the frustration but it was now ancient history as they could clearly see the cigar-shaped hull of the Znutar just several hundred kilometers ahead of them. They might have been late but the prize was now well within reach.

  "Target JumpShip is in sight." The Commander of the Union class Dropship to which Brandon was riding in said. "Shall we commence detachment from Zarathustra, Precentor?"

  "Yes, do that," Brandon answered, "and once we are clear, tell Adept Vosanovic to launch immediately afterwards."

  "Blake's will be done, Precentor." The Union Commander acknowledged.

  As Pym began to gleefully adjust the ship's comm. unit to hail the approaching WOB JumpShip, he immediately heard a click behind him where the bridge airlock was located. Just as Pym drew his needler, the explosive shockwave propelled him sideways as the door was blown in using C8 satchel charges.

  As he tried to shake off the concussive aftereffects of the explosion, Pym took a laser shot in the chest as pinkish sprays began to emanate from the holes all over his space suit. As his strength began to rapidly subside from his body, he looked up and noticed a man in an armored space suit standing over him, a laser rifle in his hands. That was the last thing he ever saw.

  "Lousy bastard," Pryce spoke through the now-opened comm. channels using his space suit, "it was just him. He killed everybody on the Znutar and took us all hostage; all by his lonesome."

  "Well isn't that something." Dominic said as he monitored the situation along with Sanz in the Amerigo's bridge. "How about the bomb?"

  "My men are working on it." Pryce answered as his colleagues began to look over the ship's instrumentations and computers. "It may take us fifteen minutes to defuse the thing."

  "We may not have that, look!" One of the SLDF troopers shouted while pointing at the ship's viewports.

  A white-painted Union class DropShip was rapidly approaching them as two fighters resembling massive flying wings emerged from it. Pryce cursed.

  Adept Dragan Vosanovic made minute adjustments on the control stick of his 100-ton Riever heavy aerospace fighter as it streaked towards the target using its afterburners. Although he was a veteran aerospace pilot with almost twenty years of experience, Vosanovic knew that the slightest mistake could cost him his life. He was therefore extra careful because of the new types of armaments that his fighter was equipped with. There was no telling what kind of glitches that the ARCLIGHT system might have, since it was never used in an actual combat situation before. Although he preferred to have been equipped with his standard payload, especially his beloved 200mm autocannon, Vosanovic knew that compromises needed to have been made. And in this situation, the ARCLIGHT might just prove to be the one weapon to make any of Blake's enemies quiver with fear.

  As Pryce and his men stood wide-eyed at the approaching fighters, the comm. console of the Znutar instantly went online as the approaching Union DropShip hailed it.

  "Znutar, code in please." The voice from the Union said.

  Pryce looked around in disgust. If only he had an extra fifteen minutes. He cursed the gods for all he was worth because deep inside, he knew it was too late.

  "Code in." The voice repeated.

  At the bridge of the Union, the WOB Communications Officer glanced over to where Brandon St. Jamais was sitting. "No reply, sir." She said as a matter of fact.

  As all eyes on the DropShip's bridge looked over to him for a decision, Brandon made another silent curse to himself. If only they had gotten in a few hours sooner, they would have had the disks and this would be all over. Whatever it was, it became Blake's will, and his will had to be done.

  "Patch me in to the Riever pilots." Brandon ordered.

  Vosanovic's Riever continued to plow straight ahead as the Znutar began to loom larger and larger as he approached it. He could see from the side mirrors of his cockpit that his wingman was close behind as his comm. link activated.

  It was his superior, Precentor St. Jamais. "We have received no authentication from our operative on board. By Blake's will, destroy them all."

  "At once, Precentor." Vosanovic replied as he made a short prayer before arming the ARCLIGHT system. A slight beep indicated that the warhead was primed. As lead fighter, he would make the primary runs until his ARCLIGHT was exhausted from which then his wingman would take over. Quickly opening up his throttle, Vosanovic began to level the Riever for an attack run.

  Pryce spoke through his space suit's comm. link; his voice was calm, almost dreamlike. "All DropShips, detach now. Get the hell out of here."

  "Sergeant, we can still get your men outta there, head for airlock AA2." Captain De Llandes pleaded as she began to start up the Amerigo's thrusters.

  "GET OUT NOW!" Pryce shouted at the top of his lungs. He knew he was dead, but there might still be a chance for the delegates.

  On the Amerigo's bridge, De Llandes turned to her XO with tears in her eyes. "John, detach then go to full throttle. We are outta here."

  "Destination, Captain?" Lieutenant John Shive asked as he toggled the detach switch.

  "Head for the moon orbiting the gas giant." She replied. It was closer than it looked for the Znutar came in at a pirate point very close to the jovian-type gas giant. If the Amerigo went in at full-throttle they might be able to get into the moon's atmosphere before the aerospace fighters could get within range. Although the gravity on the DropShip would be very intense, it was the one chance they had. "Attention everyone," De Llandes spoke using the ship's PA system, "prepare for high-g thrust."

  "Go, Captain." Natasha said to Rothstein inside the bridge of the Space Beagle. "Head for the moon." She added as she unstrapped herself from the gunner's chair and headed towards the door.

  "Where are you going?" Rothstein called after her as he activated the ship's thrusters.

  "Cargo bay." Came the Black Widow's reply.

  Vosanovic cursed as he saw both DropShips detach themselves from the Znutar and began to move away. If he fired now then there was a chance that the ARCLIGHT might fail due to the extreme range. But if he could get them all with one shot, then no one would be the wiser. Ignoring the warning light on his targeting system, Vosanovic toggled the fire button. Seconds later, the first ARCLIGHT missile detached from the front of the Riever's nose as its own thrusters ignited a half-second later.

  As Captain De Llandes took over the helm controls of the Amerigo, she noticed a small object erupt from the lead fighter and began to streak towards them. Gritting her teeth, she pulled at the throttle until the DropShip attained maximum thrust. The high-g forces were putting a serious strain as all the blood in her body began to pool at the back of her chair but she knew they needed to clear the Znutar as soon as possible. A few crewmembers let out groans of pain as the ship's gravity increased dramatically to near dangerous levels but De Llandes stayed conscious through sheer willpower. Dominic Durant and Carlos Sanz had already passed out in their chairs from the extreme g-forces.

  As the missile came closer its small fuel load ran out and only its inertia began to carry it forward. The small microchip in the missile however, could not distinguish between being fired in space or inside of a planet's atmosphere and so went into failsafe mode when it detected that its fuel tanks were empty. It then deactivated the warhead just seconds before it plowed into the hull of the Znutar.

  Vosanovic let out a stream of obscenities as the targeting computer told him that the missile deactivated its own warhead just as it hit the JumpShip. Such was the glitches of an experimental weapon. He knew he had only one missile left but it was now well within range. As he calmed himself down, Vosanovic toggled the fire switch again. The second ARCLIGHT missile leapt out from his now empty launcher.

  It took less than three minutes for the second missile to impale itself onto the Znutar. As the warhead impacted onto the hull, it detonated a ring of high explosive surrounding a hollow sphere. As the ensuing explosion crushed the sphere into the size of a grapefruit, billions upon billions of nuclei joined into each other in half a microsecond. The ensuing effect released some 500 kilotons- equal to 500,000 tons of TNT- as well as trillions of fast neutrons. Then came the light in all their spectrums, from visible to infrared and ultraviolet as the temperature in and around the JumpShip reached over 30 million degrees.

  The ensuing explosion completely vaporized the Znutar as its shockwave hit both DropShips. The Amerigo was accelerating well ahead of the other ship and it absorbed the nuclear shockwave with barely a hint of damage. The Space Beagle took the brunt of the blast in its aft hull as parts of her superstructure began to buckle.

  "Switch to lead." Vosanovic ordered his wingman as he began to slow down so that the Riever behind him could get ahead. He was out of missiles now and so the timing needed to be good or else the DropShips would get to the moon. Hitting a moving DropShip with a bulky nuclear missile would be that much harder. Vosanovic thought about it for a second until he remembered his training. As his wingman's Riever got ahead of him, Vosanovic's own fighter fell in behind his partner's left wing. "The targeting system is not good against smaller objects. Use proximity detonation." He ordered his wingman.

  "Blake's will be done." His wingman replied as he switched the detonation mode on his ARCLIGHT system from impact to proximity.

  Ace Rothstein grimaced as he tried to stay in control of his ship. Alarms all around the bridge of the Space Beagle whined as pieces of the hull began to peel off. The gravity pull from the overburning thrusters was intense but he knew that they were just less than a few dozen kilometers away from breaching the moon's atmosphere. He could see from the viewports that it was a dry, dusty world. If he could just land in a decent place, there was a chance they might still get out alive.

  De Llandes could see that the enemy fighters were right behind them and it looked like that they were going to fire again. A different sounding alarm momentarily jolted her further. "What the hell was that?" She asked John Shive.

  "Escape pod! Someone's using it!" Shive shouted as the vibrations hummed all over the ship.

  "Stupid idiots! We're almost there!" De Llandes shouted back amid the din.

  Sey Fujikawa had had enough. First they were taken hostage by a group of terrorists in the JumpShip and now they were being shot at with nuclear weapons! He was just a chef who wanted no part in any war. In fact, he even got into trouble several years back when he attended a peace rally in the Combine. Fujikawa believed in peace and love, not killing and dying. Although the gravity was so intense that he had to crawl to the nearest escape pod, he managed to get inside and activate the autopilot. Within seconds the escape pod's ejection system activated as it propelled the pod away from the damaged Monarch class DropShip.

  As Vosanovic's wingman fired the ARCLIGHT missile, an escape pod jettisoned out of the fleeing Amerigo and drifted on past the stricken Space Beagle. The nuclear missile was primed for a proximity explosion and so locked onto the nearest target. However when the escape pod began to loom in front of it, its tiny microchip mistook it for a much larger target and instantly detonated the fusion warhead.

  The two Riever aerospace fighters barely had time to pull up as the nuclear shockwave washed out both their sensors but since their fuselages were heavily armored, they were still functional. Vosanovic cursed for the third time as luck once again sided with the hostages. The Amerigo was nearly swept sideways from the shockwave while the already damaged Space Beagle took another heavy battering which ripped into her shattered hull.

  While the crew of the Amerigo regained control and the DropShip began to pierce the moon's atmosphere, the Space Beagle had incurred even more damage and it was already beginning to break apart as it started falling into the moon's gravity well. Rothstein had been blinded in the last nuclear explosion and he could barely see were he was heading. The controls were unresponsive and the squawking computer advised him to abandon ship. As he looked around in a daze, he noticed that part of the bridge was on fire and that his crew was either unconscious or dead.

  "Can you take another shot?" Vosanovic asked his wingman as they managed to get back into an attack run once again.

  "Negative. The shockwave messed up the ARCLIGHT system. I can't get it to reactivate." His wingman replied through the nuclear static.

  Vosanovic was tempted to curse yet again but his patience won out this time. "Return to the DropShip for repairs."  He ordered as he headed off to follow the DropShips to the surface so he could relay their locations. So the hostages were saved once again. No matter, they came in full force and they were equipped for this. All they had to do now was take the fight to the moon.

  As his ship began to break apart around him, Ace Rothstein kept thinking about his life. He didn't want to leave his beloved Space Beagle. His crew was dead and even if he made it to the surface of the moon, they would hunt him down. He was tired and had had enough. Time to end it.

  "DropShip going down. Beagle going down." Rothstein spoke using the ship's radio as the tearing of the hull began. It wasn't as if anyone friendly would hear it, but he felt he had to say something as the compartment began to depressurize and the temperature began to heat up around him as the re-entry into the moon's atmosphere started.