The Terran Crusades:
Chapter 1March 7th, 2371
CPD Medusa, Bridge
Galapagos Sector, Deep Space
1402 hrs.
Fleet Admiral, Sheldon "Gemini" Director, glared out of the view port of the Colonial Protectorate Dreadnaught Medusa, towards the fleeing ships that belonged to his dear sister. The Bridge was a bustle of activity, men in dark blue uniforms rushed about, adjusting the speed of the engines, plotting intercepting courses, and preparing the Mass Acceleration Cannon.
"Admiral, the frigate Arc, is reporting shields down on Charlie Seven, permission to engage?"
Gemini glanced at the chart, identifying Charlie Seven, as a light cruiser. The Admiral sneered at the young gun layer; the kilometre long ship was made for taking on bigger prey then a light cruiser.
"Negative Guns, concentrate your fire on Charlie One. Radio, give the go ahead to Arc, the kill's all hers." Gemini barked. The crew should have guessed that the Admiral would want to concentrate on Charlie One, the one of four ships that had been identified, and the only ship of the four that wasn't a pile of floating space scrap. The Terran Republican Dreadnaught Everest. His dear sister's flag ship.
Like his sister, Gemini had a large black eye patch covering his missing eye, but that was where the similarities ended. Unlike Elizabeth "Betty" Director, who was lithe and acrobatic, Gemini was large, and powerful. Both his dark brown hair and goatee were well trimmed, while a peaked cap rested lightly on his head.
Every man aboard knew that Gemini hadn't been assigned to lead because of his tactical skills, or his strategic powers. He was chosen to lead, because he was a ruthless bastard, driven by revenge. Being handed over to the Terrahumanists, along with two of your friends and your father, could turn anybody into a being thirsting for vengeance.
The deck shuddered beneath them, as the Medusa's eight-hundred metre MAC launched a two-tone projectile, at faster then light speed straight at the retreating capital ship.
"Direct hit!" The Gunnery Lieutenant, exclaimed
"Damage?"
"Looks like the kinetic barriers absorbed the impact." Came the disappointed reply, "Adjusting MAC for another shot. Charging… Its away!"
The deck shuddered again, and Gemini could feel a grim, satisfied smile tugging at his lips, while his metallic left hand, clenched and unclenched. There was no way the older Everest class ship, could survive more than a few minutes with the new Mythic class Dreadnaughts.
"Sir, I think we should pull back. We wont be able to catch them before they make the jump into slip space." A voice brought Gemini out of his pleasant thoughts.
The voice belonged to Captain Drew "Drakken" Lipsky. Though clad head to toe in the dark blue uniform of a navy officer, and a scar beneath his left eye, he was not an impressive man. His medium height, soft build, small, gloved hands, and receding, black hair pulled back into ponytail, and his vided blue skin, a result of his home world of Yulinda's environment, gave him an almost comical appearance. It didn't help that he was emotional, prone to melodrama, childish, and tended to be smugly superior around his subordinates,
But he was not nicknamed after the deadliest predator on Yulinda for nothing. He was ambitious and had a mean streak a light year wide, and was prone to, what some men called, 'evil tendencies.' There was a story going around how Drakken, while on shore leave, gathered up a group of Guard prisoners, and for his entertainment, hanged them, one by one, a sadistic grin never leaving his face, as each man danced, and jigged until finally, dying.
Gemini turned his single, burning eye on his subordinate. One of the things, that you didn't want to do, was make the Fleet Admiral angry. Saying, it was bad for you're your life expediency, was like saying that shit stinks.
"Turn back, Captain? When I'm this close to destroying that traitorous sister of mine? You should know Captain, that I would gladly sacrifice every ship I have just to kill her!" Righteous rage burned feverously in his single eye.
"Admiral, the Arc just confirmed a kill. Charlie Seven's space dust." The radio op. said, interrupting the Admiral's hate filled rant.
"Got even better news, sir." The Gunnery Lieutenant exclaimed, "Charlie One's barriers were knocked out in the last salvo!" The entire bride exploded into cheers. The flag ship of the dreaded 8th Terran fleet was theirs. "Adjusting targets… Charging…"
Gemini turned to Drakken, a triumphant smirk on his face, "You see Captain? I told you, I will get her before she is able to make the jump into slip space."
"Don't be so sure Admiral"
"Sir we got power fluctuations! The ships are preparing to make the jump!" An Ensign shouted. Both of Gemini's fists clenched, he would not allow her to escape. This was his chance for revenge.
"Guns! Don't let them make the jump! Kill that ship!" He bellowed, spit flying from his mouth.
"MAC gun still charging… Almost there… Its away!"
The deck shuddered as the projectile launched. The entire bridge fell into a brittle silence. Finally the Gunnery Lieutenant looked up.
"Charlie Four, moved in front of the shot, sir. It was destroyed, but Charlie One, and the remains of the 8th fleet have made the jump into slip space, Admiral."
The entire Bridge was deathly quite, the only sounds that could be heard were the heavy panting of rage, and the sounds of teeth grinding. So close, so close, so fucking close. GOD DAMNIT! The words screamed through the mind of the Admiral.
His cybotic hand shot out and grabbed Drakken by the neck. His hand tightened around the Captain's windpipe, as Gemini slowly strangled the life out of his subordinate. Drakken fought, kicking, and scratching, trying to get the bigger man to let go.
Suddenly there was a large crack and a thump as the cybotic hand twisted, snapping Drakken's neck, and dropping him to the floor. Without a glance the Admiral turned and swiftly exited the Bridge, leaving a horrified silence in his wake.
March 7th, 2371
PAC Talon Drop ship, Little Lady
10 kilometres outside 376th's HQ
1434 hrs.
The heavy scent of a Cuban cigar, or what was as close to a Cuban, as the OCP could grow, tobacco plants never could seem to adapt to life outside of Earth, wafted through the drop ship, as Sergeant Major Ronald Dean Stoppable, exhaled another breath of the foul smelling, acidic smoke.
Out of the eight hundred men of the 377th Battalion, only forty-six had survived, and made it to the Evac zones. The men were dirty, hungry and exhausted. Mud, dust and dirt covered their heavy, dark green, jump suites, and flak armour, as the sixteen men slumped back in their seats.
It had happened so fast, just so fast. With in the first hour of the attack, most of the officers had been killed in the first barrages, leaving the entire battalion fighting at squad level. An hour latter 2nd Lieutenant Amir Al-Zijad, the remaining ranking officer, was killed when a Timber Wolf tank, fired point blank into his command bunker.
Ron face looked out from the bluish grey haze, of his syntho-cigar, his dark brown eyes scanning the looks of exhaustion and despair that dominated his men's faces. A small rectangular targeting receptacle was angled over his right eye, acting as a mini-HUD. His unshaven features hid the freckles that dotted his cheeks. A dark green helmet covered his messy, dirty blonde hair, and large ears. His rifle rocked in his hand, as the transport bounced and rocked, in the unstable air currents.
"Alright boys, we are five minutes out from the rendezvous point. Be prepared to land, and get the hell of my ship." Came the cranky tone of the Flight Lieutenant
A heavy sigh, escaped from Ron's lips, as he crushed the syntho-cigar, beneath his black combat boots, picked his weapon up and joined his men standing in line at the loading ramp.
The Talon, Little Lady had seen better days, scorched patches, ricochet marks, loose armour platting from where a rocket had slammed into the ship. But the reliable ship, and the daring skills of her pilot, even if she was a cranky ass bitch, had saved the sixteen men from death, or worse capture.
Thinking back Ron could not help but be proud of his men, and how the had handled themselves in the worst situation that they had faced yet. Out numbered over four to one, they had held of the advance for almost six hours, depleting their ammo reserves, and using up what medical supplies they had.
"Hey Sarge? What happens now?" Corporal Brick Flagg, the now de-facto second in command.
Like Ron, Flagg came from a high gravity world, giving Flagg a build like a linebacker. Large and muscular, had earned the respect of his comrades when he lifted, two injured men onto his back, and pulled them out of the way of a heavy machine gun, unfortunately the event caused many troops to question the man's intelligence, which, needless to say, was lacking.
"We get processed then either they rebuild the battalion, or they fold us in with a new unit. Most likely the latter." Ron answered quickly, the knowledge of one who had been down this road before, was present in his stature, and voice.
Suddenly the loading ramp was lowered, and the vibrant green ground of New Louis became visible. The sweet smelling, cool air wafted into the stuffy area. Slowly the Talon came to a stop and hovered a metre of the ground.
"Thanks for the ride, there Bon-Bon." Ron smiled, knowing how much the nickname irritated her. The small bit of ribbing was more for his men's spirits then it was for his own. The men chuckled quietly at the nickname, as the leapt to the ground.
"Yeah no problem, you know how much I love putting myself and my bird at risk for your sorry ass there, Lucky." Came the angry reply, "Its going to take a couple of months to get my poor baby back into shape." Bonnie's voice took on that syrupy-sweet tone, one uses for talking to a beloved pet.
Ron jumped down from the boarding ramp, the name "Lucky" ringing in his ears. I'm not lucky. The thought passed through his mind, not even close. His fingers reached up and traced the thin, ropey scar that traveled from his left temple, over his eye, across his nose and finally ending below his lips. A souvenir from a Guard's bayonet tip, during an engagement thirteen years ago, were an ambush had wiped out his platoon.
Climbing to his feet, Ron glanced around. The landing zone was part of a large battalion's camp. Camp, got it, now which one is it? A flag flapping in the light breeze soon informed him as to the number. The flag was a dark, faded green, a yellow, red trimmed lightning bolt passed across a hammer. The 376th, great.
"Well as I live and breath, I didn't think I would see you alive after we abandoned Geta Port!" A familiar voice called out to him, "Lucky, you son of a bitch, its good to see you again."
Clad in dark green, his rifle slung over his back, was a man who Ron hadn't seen since the fall of Geta, Felix Renton. Felix was a bit taller than Ron; his brown hair was tucked underneath a cloth bandana. The sleeves of his uniform had been rolled up exposing his arms.
His right arm supported a tattoo, a sword pointed down into a rock while a serpent wrapped itself around it. Strength, even in death.
As intimidating as he looked, Ron knew Felix to be a kind and caring man.
"Felix, dude! Still alive and stinking up the place I see!" Ron yelled back, a large smile spreading on his lips, as the two clasped hands and pounded each others fist. "Man I ain't seen you, in what, three, four months now?"
"About that, if memory serves me correctly, I was dragging your ass to the corpsman, because you shot yourself in the foot." Felix grin grew wide as he remembered the incident.
"Ha, ha, ha. Laugh it up Felix, or do I have to remind you of the time I had to stitch you up, because you sat on a bayonet?" Felix winced and his hand instinctively ran up and down on his rear, as though trying to ease a pain.
"That's what I thought."
"So Renton-san, when were you going to inform me that your good friend was Stoppable-san?"
Both soldiers jumped in surprise. So focused on their banter, they failed to notice the slim, shorthaired Lieutenant.
"I'm sorry ma'am; I didn't even know that you knew him."
Lieutenant Yori Soruchi smiled at Felix before turning to Ron. She gave Ron respectable bow, which Ron returned, bending lower to Yori.
"It's good to see you again Stoppable-san. I'm sorry to hear about your unit, but it is good to see that you are alive and well." Yori smiled gently.
"Yori-chan, I see that you got a promotion, since the last time we saw each other." Ron pointed to the gold bar. Last time he had seen her it was silver. "Well done, you deserved it."
Yori smiled as she ran her hand through her short, black hair. Like Felix her uniform's sleeves had been rolled up, but unlike Felix, she had taken off the flak armour's pauldrons, allowing for greater movement. A STAR Industries Deadshot sniper rifle was strapped to her back, while a heavy "Fortune" pistol was resting in her leg hostler. Her slim, and lithe build, and calm demeanor often made Ron think of a viper.
"Thank you Stoppable-san, our Master Sensei was very pleased to hear about it. He said it brought great honour to him and our family."
"Well its good to hear that our Sensei is still alive and is pleased with you. I haven't heard from since I left, eighteen years, isn't?"
Felix looked confusingly at both of them. "Hey Lucky, I didn't know you and the Lieutenant were related, or are you married?"
"We're not Felix. Her family adopted me after Middleton was bombed." Ron's smile had vanished
"Oh."
"Well I got to go report to the Captain, great seeing you guys again, we gotta get drink some time and catch up." Ron waved as he walked away.
Yori and Felix watched him walk away. The two watched their friend walk into the camp in confusion. He had just lost his entire battalion, but was still able to smile and laugh; it was like he didn't take anything seriously. He took what life threw at him, and he cut through it with a smile.
Finally Yori turned to Felix. "Lucky?"
Felix smiled. "A nickname he got tagged with, while we were in boot. He was always complaining that he had no luck. He would stumble and trip over everything, misplace his equipment, get on the Drill Sergeants bad side doing nothing. Then one day, during target practice, he tripped over his shoe lace and accidentally fired his rifle. He hit three targets straight in the bull's-eye at 200 metres." Renton burst out laughing, recalling the incident, "The Drill Sarge took one look at what had happened and said 'Well it seems you do have some luck maggot. Dumb luck.'"
Yori grinned at Felix's laughter, when he calmed down he continued. "Since then he has gotten a lot better, I mean how else could he make Sergeant Major?" Felix's smile and laughter suddenly vanished, "There are those out there that use the name as an insult."
Yori was taken back; she looked at Felix and urged him to clarify.
"As you know Ron lost his family when he was young, but what you might not know, is that Ron has lost several squads, three platoons, three quarters of a company and now his battalion, while serving with them.
"Yet he still smiles that goofball smile of his. I guess that just shows how strong you are if you can keep smiling through all that pain, huh?"
March 7th 2371
Terran Republican Sec Ops HQ
Port Jensen, New Louis
1412hrs.
Special Forces Lieutenant Kim Possible shifted her weight to he left foot, as she prepared to defender herself, as her opponent prepared to attack her. Kim grinned to herself, as she slowly moved in a semi-circle, her emerald eyes' never leaving the green tinted woman who kept in step with her.
Kim flipped her long auburn hair, from her eyesight. "Come on, Shego! I would like to finish this sometime before I'm forty."
The taunt worked, as the raven haired, greenskined Colonel suddenly lunged, her fist striking across with a left handed hook. "Don't worry Princess, I'll bet this is over within five minutes after I kick your pasty, scrawny ass."
Kim blocked the hook, capturing her arm; she tossed Shego across the padded mat with a hip toss. Leaping up she brought her foot down; Shego saw this and quickly rolled before leaping up in a spinning back kick, catching Kim off guard.
Kim leapt back, as her commanding officer pressed her advantage. An adrenaline infused grin split Shego's as she closed the distance, throwing kicks and punches, with a rabid fury. Kim found herself hard pressed to keep herself on balance, if she fell…
A couple more blows, came in the form of several lightning fast jabs, Shego's taunts never ceasing as she tried to throw Kim off. "Come on Kimmie, even the heathens move better than you." A round house kick, punctuated the statement.
Ducking under the attack, Kim growled in anger. That she compared her to those deniers of Terra was inexcusable. Quickly dropping down, Kim kicked out in a leg sweep, catching Shego off balance and throwing her to the ground.
Shego leapt up, only to see Kim's foot completing a round house kick of her own, Shego only had enough time to close her eyes in anticipation before the kick connected with her face.
Once again, Shego found herself tasting mat, as she was went to floor from the hit. Climbing to her feet, she had barely enough time to dodge a punch combo thrown at her by the enraged Lieutenant.
"What's the matter Shego? Getting tired? Having trouble keeping up?" A raised knee strike knocked the wind out of Shego's lungs. Seeing this Kim grabbed her opponent by her, beautiful raven hair and brought her face towards her knee.
Shego saw the incoming knee strike, and new that there was nothing she could do. The knee stopped right before breaking her nose. "You lose, Colonel." Kim panted, her voice filled with triumph. "You know what that means."
Sighing in disappointment, Shego nodded. "Yes, yes. I'll return your Pandroo."
Kim grinned. "What else?"
"I also promise not to tell the men that their Lieutenant cannot fall asleep with out her Cuddlebuddie."
"Aaaaannnnnddddddd?"
Shego muttered something under her breath.
Kim cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, what was that."
Again Shego muttered something, a little louder this time.
Kim's grin never left her face. "Come on Colonel, a bet is a bet. Your setting a poor example for your men. How can we expect them to be honest, and fair, when we can't even trust the commanding officer?"
"Fine!" Shego snapped, "I will tell the men that I am a cuddler, and cannot sleep with out my Batbear!"
"Spakin'"
"I am sorry, I hope I am not interrupting you ladies' work out." Came a voice from the door way. Both officers turned to see Captain Junior's large frame blocking the door to the sparring room.
"What do you want Junior?"
"Ah, Kim Possible your beauty seems to double every time I see you. Please will you come to dinner and dancing with me sometime?"
Kim quickly closed the distance and grabbed Junior by the back of the neck, using his size to her advantage; she tossed him over her back and onto the floor, while Shego watched in amusement.
"How many time Junior, must I tell you no!" Kim growled at the prone man. He tried to speak up but Kim quickly cut him off. "You are not my type Junior, just except that fact."
Shego grinned at Kim's natural aggressiveness; it was what she needed in the Special Forces. Soldiers, who were quick, aggressive, determined, and able to look at the impossible and say "I can do that."
"Was there anything else Captain?" Shego asked, looking down at the Captain.
Junior nodded his head as he climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. "Father wishes to speak to both of you. There is a new problem that needs to be taken care of."
"And that is?"
Junior was about to reply when an older, stronger, yet calmer voice cut him off. "The 8th fleet has retreated, and the PAC are beginning to land reinforcements. We have been cut off from our supplies, and the enemy is already moving toward Geta." Field Marshal Senior said as he stood in the door.
"I need the Special Forces to keep them busy and slow them down as much as possible. We need to hold until Admiral Director arrives with reinforcements, so we can wipe this planet clean of the heretic taint."
Wow two chapters in three days! I'm on fire! Don't be expecting that again. As always please if you read, leave a review, even if you hate it.
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