Authors: Mark G Brewer
Leah grabbed his towel. "Aaron, don't put this off, it's not healthy for you to keep to yourself in here. We have a few months of this trip to go so why not make the most of them, have some fun."
He was speechless for a moment, and stepped back without thinking, dislodging the towel which she let drop to the floor.
"That's the idea; get straight into the spirit of things!" she laughed warmly.
"Shit - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ."
She bent quickly to grab the towel before he could, and at the same time stopped him covering himself with his other hand. "Aaron, its ok, we can laugh about these things, we're all adults, lighten up."
She leant forward and admired him for a few seconds and he began to respond quickly. Then she deliberately held his gaze while reaching out to hold him. He didn't stop her so she gently massaged him, bringing him quickly to full erection.
"Hmm, I didn't expect this Aaron, but very nice, I have a feeling Moriah will be very pleased."
Sitting back, happy with the surprise turn of events and the delightfully grateful reaction from Aaron, she gently squeezed him.
Why stop now?
She thought and took charge; after all he could probably do with some lessons . . .
An hour later they were talking, about home, family, work . . .
* * *
Piesetsk Cosmodrome, Russia
They say timing is everything. Crews readied the RDF weaponry with the added missile mounts now heavy with conventional armory, high powered thirty millimeter nose cannons all locked and loaded. The air crackled with tension.
Most had participated in armed action before, sadly most often with near neighbors such as the Ukraine who were almost kin. This felt entirely different and nervous excitement built as they checked and rechecked everything while waiting for the final briefing. The rumor mill churned with speculation about targets and timing with Hillary Station being the most popular bet and the most daunting, although they knew it was unarmed.
That the Behemoth was gone along with the STEIN was also good news. Whether or not a significant number of the ADF complement went with her was unknown, and in some ways it was best not to know as it might have led to overconfidence. Instead they continued to practice as if their lives depended on getting everything right. Good luck and good planning were coming together nicely.
Pilots and Special Service Soldiers now worked side by side, one each per RDF, checking suits, helmets and seals for the umpteenth time, leaving nothing to chance. In space a simple mistake with a seal meant likely death in vacuum, and their training was structured to prepare them to carry out the entire mission in suits with helmets should that be required. No one needed to ask why, the Hillary Artificial Intelligence was now legendary. It didn't need a gun to make life very difficult indeed.
Major General Lebedev continued his slow march up and down the long hangar. The fifty RDF and three of the much larger RDBs were primed, fueled and ready; the crews were the best, their training comprehensive and faultless. All they needed now was the word.
Frustrated by waiting he diverted on to the grass for a nervous Turkish. Puffing away he gazed skyward, wondering at the Russian Space Station's current position. A tin can it may be but it would still play a key part in this mission. He checked his watch; seven hours, roughly six orbits before it would train its scopes on the target to confirm the timing. He stamped out the cigarette and rubbed his hands together excitedly at the thought. Their relatively small but powerful guerilla force was the key to the grand strategic plans.
Death or glory . . . if we succeed, we will soon leap the others. If we fail . . .
He shook his head
. . . It doesn't bear thinking about.
On the International Station the four cosmonauts counted the recent changes as something of a luxury. None of the other partners were interested in working on the station any longer and they now enjoyed exclusive use. While it was a luxury not to have to share the small space as they had done in the past they were still under no illusions. The pitiful size of the station and its limited facilities were nothing compared to the luxury the old partners now enjoyed on the Step.
Today however, the benefit enjoyed was privacy - privacy to redirect telescopes and provide real time feedback to Piesetsk Cosmodrome. Today they would provide final intelligence, the latest advice on any likely opposing force and it was quite likely their call would initiate the assault. The four cosmonauts were all drained and bored. The sole purpose of their mission for three months had been observation of the targets, and it was tiresome with little changing from day to day.
Then they had followed the Behemoth as it departed and their excitement levels increased knowing it was likely the next report would be the last. All going well they would soon be home, or even better, in much more spacious accommodation in space.
Orbiting a shade over sixteen times per day they enjoyed the advantage of lining up scopes well in advance of the pass. Any unlikely observation of their actions today wouldn't arouse suspicion until it was far too late. Yuri Bresnin reset the equipment, as he had for one random cycle each day over the last three months. Today however, it did feel different and secretly he hoped his observations would confirm yesterdays report. If the Behemoth and STEIN Traveler were still absent then they were home free, he was sure of it. Readying the cameras he applied his eye to the manual scope, fine tuning the picture and taking his time. This particular report might well start a war and he wanted it to be absolutely right. The minutes ticked by, then seconds and he began recording hundreds of high definition images, the lens trained on Hillary Station.
As always the station took his breath away and he longed to be there. As the largest man made structure in space it was awe inspiring in its majesty, suspended between Earth and Moon.
Can it really be that Orbitals exist, bigger than this, that house billions?
He allowed himself the distracting thought for just a second before reporting to his comrades.
"Make the call Vlad, they are still absent; Hillary is undefended."
He immediately turned to high five with his fellow cosmonauts as the call was put through to the general. For a few minutes Vlad's call was drowned out by cheers until he waved them silent.
". . . Yes General, the cheers do tell the story, there is no sign of the warship or the STEIN Traveler, not for weeks now. Hillary Station has no heavy defense with only the usual ADFs occasionally visible and there seem to be fewer of them."
His three comrades controlled their movements, clinging to hand holds and containing their enthusiasm as Vlad nodded to something the General was saying.
"Thank you General . . . I will." He looked at his hand piece, put it to his ear again to confirm they had disconnected, then dropped it and cheered.
"We get medals!"
Lebedev marched boldly from his office to the hangar. He could see two figures standing before every fighter, all suited up for space. He stopped in the centre of the double doorway and at the top of his voice called out. "Open the doors!"
It was the call they had been waiting for. The deafening cheer from flight and ground crews echoed around the metal walls, followed by frantic action as ground crew stepped forward to assist pilots and soldiers into helmets, then to their seats to buckle them up. It seemed to take only minutes and the process of taxiing out on to the tarmac began. Already the Cosmodrome lights were dimming as planned, the moonless night helping to reduce visibility dramatically. One by one the RDF's took position, lined up in waves of five, the three RDBs last to take their position. The entire process took only eighteen minutes.
As Lebedev took his seat in the lead RDB he contemplated providence. Not a religious man, he was conscious he and his team had planned months in advance for just this moment. Nevertheless, that the mighty Coran warship and the STEIN traveler were away on god knows what mission was an unbelievable break. That the weather gods had smiled on them also seemed somehow miraculous. The overcast sky combined with the selected moonless night meant it was unlikely they would be observed until they were well into the upper atmosphere, then it would be full power to target.
Providence . . . this is our time.
Sitting behind his pilot and navigator Lebedev controlled his breathing, calming himself and controlling his excitement. As expected the flight leader turned to him for the word, "All is ready General, we await only your command."
He smiled broadly though the pilot wouldn't see it through the helmet and then said the word he had been waiting for weeks to utter, "Go."
The flight leader, admirably calm, settled back comfortably and began flicking switches as he spoke, "First wave . . . lead away."
Immediately the first line of five RDF leapt forward in concert along the wide runway. The extra missile weight meant a slightly longer run before liftoff but once airborne they climbed with astonishing agility.
"Second wave away."
The next five in similar concert leapt into the air.
One by one ten waves of the fighters made takeoff without incident leaving only the three RDBs. In a faultless coordinated maneuver they also accelerated down the runway and soared into the sky joining their brethren in a train of death, like a long blade knifing through the clouds toward space.
"General?" The flight leader crackled through. "Dare I say it, the months of simulator work have paid off handsomely, and the flight work is faultless. Your man has done well, he is a genius."
Yes,
he thought
, the New Zealander with the American accent had impressed everyone, but a genius? I think not. A bitter man, definitely. Everyone has their price, some prime motivator. Popov is the genius. He was always the right man for President.
Lebedev shut his eyes to compose himself and savor the moment. The stress had been immense, the sacrifice of family and friends complete. Everything had been put aside for this mission and he stole a few minutes to reflect. In any case there would be nothing to see as they climbed and it would only be an hour, three at most.
Then he would be in a position to accept their surrender.
* * *
Hillary Station
[Regan, we have incoming.] Ham interrupted her voyeuristic observation.
Simultaneously she was wrenched from her gym observation to a broad table facing a wide screen. Ham sat at her right and Hilary, looking surprisingly calm, to her left. Instantly she shared access to Ham's drone visuals along with data on the craft rocketing out of Earth’s atmosphere.
She looked at the squadron flying in formation with alarm.
[Shit, how many of them are there?]
[There are fifty, all manned ADF size and three large craft performing to the same specs it seems. They're in a hurry.]
[Regan . . . look at them.] and Ham zoomed in. Each of the craft looked in every way like an ADF except for their color.
[Do they perform like the ADFs?]
[It appears their performance is close to maximum for a first generation ADF but who knows whether they have anything extra in the tank.] Ham still sounded calm, despite the situation.
She considered his observations. [So it looks like an ADF, performs like an ADF which means . . .] She let the thought hang.
[I don't like to be the one to say it, but I will if one of you two doesn't soon.] Hilary chipped in.
[I can't do it; I don't want to say what I'm thinking either.] It was obvious Regan was gutted.
[Et tu Mitchus?] Ham put it succinctly.
[Looks like it Ham, whoever they are, the only way to get that tech would be through him, there's no other way. What a traitorous wanker. Can you get him for me please Hilary?]
Regan turned to Ham, [So, what's the plan?]
[Rod and his EFDF flight are leaving the earthward decks as we speak, he's still moaning about not being able to shoot and I'm starting to think he might be right, weapons would be handy actually. I also have thirty ADF on space debris patrol and I'm diverting them home. What that lot have planned we'll have to wait and see.]
Regan ruminated on Ham's comments while watching the disturbing visuals.
[This can only be aggressive, if they were coming to say hello they would have contacted us and it can only be the Russians.] She paused, thoughtful, before continuing. [I'm sorry about the weapons thing, clearly I've been too much of an idealist.]
Ham and Hilary exchanged looks, suspicious looks.
[That's very progressive and realistic of you Regan.] Hilary said
[You've already armed them haven't you?]
[We voted on it and you were outvoted.]
[I didn't even get the chance to vote!]
[And aren't you pleased now that we're all ready?]
[So who's 'we'?]
[Everyone except you, but don't feel left out, we all felt you did vote because we already knew yours. You could say we cast your vote for you, you see.] Ham produced that logic as if it made everything right.
[Guys, we're probably under attack here.] Hilary pulled them back to the pressing issue.
Regan sighed and nodded acceptance, [OK, we can talk about this later but I concede,] she hesitated with a grudging look, [Maybe guns will be handy here . . . but let Rod know they must shoot first, that's my proviso.]
[Very fair Regan, I'll pass that desire on.]
[Ham, it wasn't a desire, understood?]
They turned their attention back to the incoming fighters.
[They can't hurt us can they?] Regan asked.
[Not unless they have some weapon we don't know about.]
[How long before we know?]
[Until they fire I guess, but we'll harass them before that so you never know; they'll be within contact range in about thirty minutes.]