Chapter-10
Highway through the Danger Zone.
CCS Enterprise (CVN-65)
Concordian 7th Fleet
Sea of Satsuma
Day-2 of Invasion.
June 3rd, 1995
Lt Pete "Maverick" Mitchell casually walked into an unusually silent mess hall. He quickly found his RIO (Radar-Intercept Officer) LTJG Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw.
"Hey Goose, what's going on?"
"Beats me Mav" Goose answered, his cheerful mustachioed face utterly confused. Both of them then shrugged before heading to the canteen to get their breakfast.
"What's going on around here, Goose?" Maverick asked, noting the hushed conversations and tense faces surrounding them. "You'd think somebody died."
Goose shook his head. "Haven't heard anything official. But seems like we're gearing up for something big."
He leaned in conspiratorially. "Rumor is we're heading into the Sea of Satsuma at full steam. Carrier's been launching round-the-clock patrols last few days."
Maverick's eyebrows shot up at that news. "Satsuman airspace? That's way off our usual ops range." He whistled under his breath. "Must be something serious brewing if we're getting this twitchy."
"My thoughts exactly," Goose agreed. Before he could say more, a third pilot slid onto the bench next to Maverick - his long-time rival, LT Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. As usual, his expression was unreadable.
"Maverick. Goose," he acknowledged them neutrally. "I take it you both got called to the ready room after evening chow." It wasn't a question.
Maverick and Goose exchanged glances. "Guess that cinches it then," Maverick said. "Big day tomorrow, whatever it is."
Iceman gave a tight nod, eyes distant, already mentally prepping for the op. "Stay sharp out there," was all he said before departing as silently as he'd arrived.
Maverick watched him go, then met Goose's steady gaze. "Into the fire again, bro," Goose said quietly.
Maverick nodded. "Wouldn't have it any other way, buddy." They then finished their breakfast in silence. Although Mav did notice a few other pilots talking to each other in hushed whispers, no doubt about the nature of their orders. Mav merely sighed, took his tray, and headed to the rec room for a few minutes off before heading to the ready room. Many pilots from Maverick and Goose's own squadron, VF-1 Wolfpack were already there. With nothing else to do for a while, the two simply socialized. Until disaster struck.
"Yo Maverick, Commander Tom "Stinger" Jardian wants to see you and Goose's asses up in his office." Lt Kei "Heartbreak" Nagase informed them.
"Oooh shit, did you assholes flash the tower again." Lt Rachel "Snakeye" Kerner grinned from her perch.
Maverick groaned as Kei delivered the summons to the CAG's office. Goose shot him a worried look.
"Please tell me this isn't about another buzz job on the tower," Goose said. "Stinger would have our asses if we pulled that crap again."
"Wasn't me!" Maverick protested, though racking his brain for what else they could be in trouble for.
"Uh huh, sure flyboy," Rachel chimed in sarcastically from her table. "You two better haul jets before Stinger starts breathing fire."
"Can it, Snakeye," Maverick shot back, though he and Goose were already moving. No sense keeping the CAG waiting when he was pissed.
They hustled up to Stinger's office and rapped sharply on the door. "Enter!" came the brisk reply.
Inside, Stinger fixed them with an icy glare that instantly put Maverick on edge. "Sir, you wanted to see us?" he asked carefully.
"Cut the bullshit, Mitchell," Stinger snapped. "I know about the unauthorized low-level stunt over Seijin Island two days ago." He shuffled papers on his desk. "Do you have any idea how much higher-ups are freaking out right now?"
Maverick winced. So much for keeping that quiet. Before he could reply, Stinger leaned forward with a fierce intensity. "Get your shit wired tight and your heads screwed on right, boys," he said ominously. "Oh and by the way, you and Goose, get to your 14 and fly out to escort an airliner." Stinger banished them out where Snakeye, in all her long brown-haired glory, awaited them.
"So, did daddy spank his naughty boys?" she teased, falling in step beside them as they headed for the hangar deck.
"Stuff it, Snakeye," Maverick shot back, though there was no real heat behind it. She was annoying but a damn good pilot, having earned her callsign for her uncanny aim with air-to-ground ordnance.
"We've got escort duty, gotta go babysit an airliner," Goose informed her.
Snakeye gave a low whistle. "Must be important pax if Stinger's sending his pet project to play guard dog." She shot Maverick a pointed look that he studiously ignored. Their rivalry was strictly professional, no matter what scuttlebutt suggested.
"Just try not to start any dogfights before we get there," Goose joked to cut the tension.
Maverick snorted. "No promises, bro. Not with this lunatic around." He ducked Snakeye's swung elbow with a laugh and took off running, Goose right behind.
Escort duty or not, it felt good knowing he'd be back in the air soon, where he belonged. Flying was the only thing that made sense anymore.
Once they took off and headed to the coordinates at 2:45 AM, Maverick was the first to break the silence. "Hey Goose. Stinger never said it was gonna be clear with a chance of massive star ships in the atmosphere." Goose looked up at the sky from his RIO station behind Mav, in the atmosphere in orbit. "What the actual…" the exclamation died on his lips. Up in space, there was a literal fleet of what looked like floating Catholic cathedrals.
Maverick let out a low whistle as they approached the coordinates, getting their first glimpse of the massive alien fleet hovering ominously in high orbit. Even from this distance the scale was staggering, like staring up at a floating city of dreadnoughts and destroyers.
"Jesus...would you get a load of that," he murmured. "Stinger wasn't kidding when he said gear up for something big."
"No joke, Mav," Goose replied, tense awe in his voice. "Please tell me we aren't gonna tangle with those monsters in our little F-14."
Maverick shook his head, grimly eyeing the nearest alien warship, bristling with weaponry. "Let's hope our special package is enough to make them think twice."
An uneasy silence fell over the cockpit as they took up the escort heading, the reality of the situation sinking in. Maverick could already see smaller alien craft burning through the atmosphere, no doubt wreaking havoc below.
He double-checked their route to the civilian airliner. No way a defenseless passenger jet stood a chance against whatever those alien warships launched. He and Goose would have to fly the tightest escort of their lives today.
"Hey Mav, you know what would go great with that view?" Goose spoke up, breaking the tense silence.
Maverick glanced back. "What's that, Goose?"
"One of those little cocktail umbrellas," Goose deadpanned. "I mean if we're gonna have an alien invasion, may as well do it in style, right?"
Despite himself, Maverick laughed out loud. Leave it to Goose to cut through the tension with his trademark humor.
"Keep your head on a swivel up there, wiseass," Maverick shot back, feeling his nerves settle. "We've got civilians to shepherd through this shitstorm."
He checked the coordinates; they were a bit closer. Goose meanwhile checked the sky again. Even from here, he could see smaller craft burning as they entered up in the atmosphere. It was a classic alien invasion scene.
Maverick and Goose approached the rendezvous coordinates with the civilian airliner, preparing to link up and provide escort through the rapidly deteriorating airspace. But as the massive Boeing 747 came into view, Maverick couldn't suppress an awed curse.
"Holy shit...would you look at that," he breathed. The jumbo jet had clearly taken a pounding - scorched blast holes from energy weapons marred the fuselage, part of the tail was missing, and thick black smoke trailed from one engine. Yet somehow, it was still flying, if barely.
"My god, how is that thing still airborne?" Goose wondered aloud. "It looks like it went ten rounds with Godzilla."
Maverick shook his head in disbelief. "Those are energy weapon impacts, no question. This bird survived a direct hit from those alien bastards."
Whoever was at the yoke must be one hell of a pilot to keep her flying this long. Maverick felt a swell of admiration for the airline crew's skill and guts. He keyed his radio.
"United heavy, this is Ghostrider, callsign Maverick. We are your fighter escort, here to provide cover. What is the status of your aircraft and crew?"
The response came back garbled through static, but the weariness and strain were evident. "Ghostrider... we've sustained heavy damage... flight controls marginal... request immediate vectors to the nearest suitable airfield."
Maverick and Goose exchanged a solemn look. This crew needed a miracle, and it was up to them now. "Roger that United, we've got your back," Maverick replied. "Stay tight on us, we'll see you through."
Failure was not an option today. It was time to show what Navy pilots could do.
In the battered cockpit of the crippled 747, John Lovell felt the first glimmer of hope at the sound of fighter jet escorts arriving. Their Navy rescuers had impeccable timing.
"The cavalry's here boys," he radioed back to his crew. "Concordian Navy's gonna get us out of this shithole."
He heard Lenny breathe a quiet prayer of thanks from the co-pilot seat, while Mike gave a shaky laugh over the intercom from his damage control efforts in the rear. They'd been through hell since the unprovoked alien attack but now had a fighting chance.
"How's our girl holding up back there, Mike?" John asked, coaxing just a bit more life from the sputtering engines.
"She's hurt bad but still kicking, skipper," Mike reported. "Just gotta milk a few more miles out of her."
John nodded, features settling into determined focus. Their Navy escort was here to shepherd them home through the alien hornets' nest their airspace had become. They'd endured the worst already - time to finish this.
"Alright boys, last leg now," John radioed his battered but unbowed crew. "Let's follow our flyboys back to the barn and put this beast back together."
Against all odds, they were going to land this bird in one piece. John was sure of it now.
CCS ENTERPRISE
COMMANDER TOM "STINGER" JARDIAN
CAG ENTERPRISE
"You wanted to see me chief?" Jardian entered the room of the commander of the 7th Fleet, Vice Admiral Carl Thomas. Stinger could see that the Enterprise's captain, Amelia Burns was also there.
Commander Tom "Stinger" Jardian stepped into the Enterprise's briefing room, spine stiffening to attention as he faced the two senior officers within. Vice Admiral Carl Thomas, commander of the 7th Fleet, stood with Captain Amelia Burns, the Enterprise's skipper, both wearing matching grave expressions.
"At ease, Commander," Vice Admiral Thomas replied, returning the salute before gesturing to take a seat. "I assume you've taken note of our new friends in orbit?"
"Hard to miss, Admiral," Stinger said wryly as he sat. "My pilots are already grumbling about getting hazard pay for flying through that mess."
Captain Burns cracked a thin smile at that before growing serious again. "Then they better steel themselves, because it's about to get a lot messier."
She nodded to the Vice Admiral, who solemnly met Stinger's gaze. "Our off-world guests haven't been too friendly so far. Prepare your teams for widespread combat engagement. We're taking the fight to them with everything we've got."
Stinger took a deep breath, mind racing over the implications. Then he nodded firmly. "We'll give them one hell of a Concordian welcome, sir."
The Admiral clasped his shoulder. "I know you will, son. Dismissed."
Stinger rose and saluted sharply, then exited the room. Time to brief his pilots and get to work. The 7th Fleet was going on the offensive.
ATMOSPHERE ABOVE NEWLY DISCOVERED PLANET NOVA ARCADIA.
NOVA ARCADIA SYSTEM.
BATTLEFLEET SCOLARIS
DIVINE RIGHT
Lord Admiral Cardin Vallin was now in another meeting with the various officers of his battlefleet. He was one of the most competent lord admirals, and he had the manners of a kindly old grandpa. So, he was surprised at the results. "Why haven't we taken the entire planet, and where is the planetary governor?" he asked calmly. The officers ranged from Astartes Chapter Masters, to an Abbess of the Adepta Sororitas Militant Order of the Valorous Heart. Inquisition members and Imperial Guard generals.
"Firstly" boomed the voice of an Astartes of the Black Templars Chapter, "We have footholds in 2 of the 7 continents."
"But our losses are getting heavier." An officer of the 10th Praetorian Guard regiment, wearing the classic pith helmet, redcoat, and blue trousers chimed in. "We lost Col Jonah. S Smith and most of the Praetorian 9th's staff to capture. Bloody bad show."
"And let's not forget the loss of the entire Grey Bulls Chapter on the first day…monstrous." Another officer groaned.
"Or the loss of an Astartes Librarian to some form of possession," A Space Marine wearing the armor of the Imperial Fists said.
"Or the escape of two prisoners, a native of this planet, and a Tau half-breed" Another Imperial Guard officer spat the word. "You remember we captured her before we were heading to our destination. Well, she and a native of this planet escaped, in a Valkyrie and cost us the entire Black Tails Fighter Squadron!"
"And let's not forget" an Inquisitor began. "We sent a Valkyrie with one Inquisitor Fridmann and a squad of Tempestus Scions-Stormtroopers. They found a spacecraft or station. As of now neither Fridmann nor the Scions officer have checked in, while their pilot Lt Halder keeps us updated."
This piqued Vallin's interest. "Explain from the start...Inquisitor."
The inquisitor looked at his notes. "We began the journey on the orders of returned Primarch and Imperial Regent Robute Guilliman to head to Oralia V as part of his new crusade against the remnants of Tyranid Hivefleet Leviathan on orders of his Holiness the Emperor. While on our way, we began to experience a warpstorm of unparalleled intensity, so much so that almost all our Psykers and Astropaths were put out of commission. As soon as we left the warp, we found ourselves here. While the Invasion began almost at once, our first losses occurred the moment our pods and landing craft were obliterated by planet-based defenses capable of destroying objects from space…"
"The space station, Inquisitor…you were giving me info on that, not a recount of previous events," Vallin said dryly, interrupting the inquisitor's reading.
The Inquisitor cleared his throat, looking somewhat chagrined at the redirection. "Yes, of course Admiral. To continue, approximately 36 hours into the invasion, one of our Valkyrie gunships was dispatched to investigate an orbital construct detected by our augur arrays."
He took a small breath and took a sip of water before continuing. The Valkyrie detected 14 humanoid life forms."
He referenced his notes again. "This craft contained Inquisitor Fridmann, a 5-man squad of Scions led by Sergeant Kolbeck, and the pilot Lt. Halder. Upon approaching the station, they determined it to be of human construction and origin."
Vallin nodded and motioned the man to continue. The Inquisitor nodded and went on. "After docking with the station, Inquisitor Fridmann led Sergeant Kolbeck and two of his Scions aboard to investigate further. They were able to access the interior and determine the station was some sort of research outpost."
He shuffled his papers. "According to Lt. Halder, intermittent contact was maintained for approximately one hour after the boarding team entered. Then all communication from the station ceased abruptly."
Vallin frowned. "Troubling. Do we have any idea what transpired aboard this station to cause the loss of contact?"
The Inquisitor shook his head. "No Admiral. The last transmission was from Fridmann himself to Halder. He reported and I quote unquote "Everything is fine Lt." It should be known that Halder found his boss's voice strained, as if under tremendous pressure. But nothing beyond that before signals were lost."
The Admiral leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered this new information. An orbital station, built by the inhabitants of this world. And now, his forces aboard had gone dark after reporting strained contact. Many possibilities ran through his mind, but he needed more data.
"Inquisitor, have any additional teams been dispatched to investigate?" he asked.
The Inquisitor shook his head again. "No Admiral. We deemed further interaction with the station unwise until the silence aboard was explained. However,..." he trailed off uncertainly.
Vallin raised an eyebrow. "Go on, Inquisitor. I value your insight."
"A thought occurs, Admiral. The vital intelligence we could gain from accessing logs or data banks aboard, if any remain intact. I would volunteer to lead a team to infiltrate and retrieve anything of value."
Vallin considered this, then nodded. "Very well. Take a small strike team, access the station data, and retreat at first sign of resistance. We still lack full understanding of what occurred."
He fixed the Inquisitor with a stern look. "You have permission to proceed, but do not take unnecessary risks. Report back anything you discover."
The Inquisitor bowed. "Of course, Admiral. We will depart within the hour." He gathered his papers and made to leave.
"One last thing, Inquisitor," Vallin called after him. "Should you regain contact with Inquisitor Fridmann or his team...I want them brought back alive if at all feasible. I have questions."
The Inquisitor nodded. "By your will, Admiral." Then he departed to make preparations, leaving Vallin to ponder this new puzzle.
Excerpt from Christian Broadcasting Channel,
Dated June 3rd, 1995, 10:00am PST.
"My fellow brothers and sisters... I always believed this day would come. And I been warnin' y'all this for years. But today, GOD has FINALLY SPOKEN! Set your TVs or your radios to any other channel, and you'll see for yourself the DIVINE JUDGMENT and RETRIBUTION being meted out upon cities all around the WORLD!
"Yes, GOD hath shown his DISPLEASURE with Humanity, and henceforth sent his ANGELS from heaven above to punish Humanity for our SIN! For our DEBAUCHERY! For our GODLESS SOCIALISM, TECHNOLOGY and GOVERNMENT!
The preacher's voice rose in fervent conviction as he addressed his unseen flock:
"For too long we have turned away from the Lord's righteous path! We have embraced sin and godlessness, indulging in moral decay! Now we reap what we have sown!"
He paused, mopping his brow before continuing breathlessly. "Yet even in his wrath, God offers mercy! These angels of destruction herald a cleansing! The old world shall be swept away, and a new Eden shall spring forth!"
Spreading his arms wide, the preacher bellowed, "So I say to you - repent! Cast off earthly pleasures and vain pursuits! Embrace once more the loving grace of our Lord! For though judgment has come, salvation may yet follow!"
His voice dropped, quivering with emotion. "Pray with me now, brothers and sisters. Pray for forgiveness, that we may be spared to see the glorious Kingdom arising from the ashes of the old! God has spoken at last - will you heed his call?"
The preacher fell silent, head bowed reverently. The studio lights dimmed, leaving only the faint echo of his impassioned sermon ringing in the air.
Riga, Ulraznavian Federation
State of Lettland
Baltisch States, Osterland
June 3rd, 1995, 6pm UST (Ulraznavian Time)
Lukas Žanis Krauze scowled before shutting down the tv. Overreacting Concordians. He finished doing up his continental BDU. Usually in a greenish color, his was in dark blue, white and grey in an ERDL style. After making sure his helmet was on and his Heckler and Goch G8, known to the Concordians as the XM8 was loaded. He went to his little 4-year-old son, Matyas. "Buddy, you ready to go, the CO was kind enough to let you come with me." Lukas was a single dad, his mother died 3 years ago, and the 20-year-old man had to argue Alot with his CO.
He finished getting ready in tense silence, the Concordian preacher's dire warnings still echoing faintly from the now-dark TV. Deep down, he knew there was truth in those words, as much as he hated to admit it. Their world was under attack by forces beyond comprehension.
He secured his ERDL pattern uniform and checked his G8 rifle, features hardening into a scowl. Overreacting preachers aside, he still had a duty to defend his homeland, no matter the odds.
Turning to his four-year-old son Matyas, Lukas softened slightly. He had argued fiercely to bring the boy along to the muster point, unwilling to be separated.
"You ready to go, buddy?" he asked gently. "The CO is letting you stay with me for now."
Matyas nodded bravely, his small hand clutching Lukas' tightly. Together, father and son departed their modest home, unsure when or if they would return.
The base was chaotic, soldiers rushing to stations, vehicles rolling out. But his unit had held a spot for Matyas, honoring Lukas' request. He gave them a grateful nod, then lifted Matyas into the personnel carrier.
"No matter what happens, stay close to me," Lukas told his son, face etched with fierce protection. Matyas just huddled nearer as the carrier rumbled forth into the endangered night.