| Jovian APAworks | Volume 1, Number 2 | January, 2001 |
"Aw, shit," moaned Lieutenant Dupree, staring in disbelief at his Intruder's sensor screen. "Marathon, this is Hammer One. They're headed for the Gandhi. Over." A handful of symbols -- a group of Republic exo-armors chasing a group of Federation exo-armors, or was it the other way around? -- raced steadfastly towards a lone symbol -- a Solar Cross hospital ship on scene tending needs of both sides on the little red planet below.
"Hammer One, Marathon. Please confirm last transmission. Over."
"Marathon, Hammer One." Dupree studied the readout a few seconds longer. "Yeah, they're moving in on the Gandhi. Entering the neutral zone in...two minutes. Over."
"Hammer One, Marathon. Copy. Hold your position. Over."
"Roger, Marathon. Over. Hammer Flight, Hammer One. You heard it. We hold. Over." Dupree cursed silently. The war on Mars had been raging since February, but it had been confined largely to ground targets -- especially when both the Jovian Confederation and the less-than-altruistic CEGA fleets had arrived to keep orbital fighting to a minimum. Dupree suspected both fleets were providing intelligence and arms to their respective juniors on the ground -- the Mars Free Republic for the Confederation and the Martian Federation for CEGA -- but as a flight leader for a Jovian Armed Forces fighter squadron, it wasn't really his position to comment on the larger politics of the situation. His job was to get orders from his assigned commander and carry them out by passing them on down to his squadron.
"Hammer One, Hammer Three. You're kidding. We just wait and watch?"
Dupree noted Mann's cynical disbelief. "Yep," he replied.
"We know where this is going, right?"
Dupree sighed. The idiots in the exos headed for the Solar Cross neutral zone -- the mandated no-fight zone around any Solar Cross ship -- would keep fighting. "Yep. Maybe they're good enough not to hit the Gandhi."
"Yeah, that's likely." Mann's sarcasm was palpable.
Dupree checked his sensors again. Whoever was in the lead in the small cluster of Martian exos was definitely on the run, seeking sanctuary with the Solar Cross, and the other side was definitely in pursuit. "Marathon, Hammer One. One minute ten to neutral zone crossing by lead Martian. Over."
"Hammer One, Marathon. Copy. Over."
Dupree waited, his legs tingling in anticipation of what might come. He imagined the radio traffic all over Mars-space was pretty hefty at the moment, a great deal of it directed at the fools racing for the Solar Cross ship. His flight -- his Intruder and his mates' Lancers -- was attached to the Marathon, an Athena-class destroyer on long-range patrol at the leading edge of the JAF's tactical sphere of control.
On his screen, the lead Martian exo-armor crossed into the neutral zone. Radio traffic around the system probably reached an all-time high at that point, Dupree guessed. If the Martians continued their fight within the neutral zone and, more importantly, if a stray shot damaged the Solar Cross vessel or its daughtercraft, there was no telling what would happen, but it would almost certainly be bad for everyone involved.
"Hammer One, Marathon. Captain Starks is on the comm."
"Dupree, this is Starks," said the captain. Starks was the captain of the Marathon, and she didn't usually speak directly to her attachments. "Comm traffic indicates that not only are the Republic forces pursuing the Federation forces inside the neutral zone, they're actively engaging them in a shooting battle and endangering the Ghandi. We've just been ordered to get those Martians out of there, pronto. I want you to take Hammer Flight inside. The Marathon will be on your tail. We are not to engage either side, merely chase them. Odds are good they won't want to go toe-to-toe with us. Naturally, we are to focus our efforts on the Federation armors, not our Republic allies."
Dupree shook his head at the news. "I copy, Captain. I assume you're coming in with us because CEGA's going to do exactly the same thing, right?"
There was a long pause and a sigh. "Most likely. Intelligence confirms the Murasame received similar orders, and it will probably send in a flight of Syreens. We are not to engage CEGA forces, however, unless they fire first."
Dupree mulled that over. Neither side wanted a war -- not the soldiers, anyway -- but with both sides sending in forces, odds were pretty good the situation would get out of control. The fuck of it was that both sides knew it would get out of control, which meant that it already was out of control, and everyone involved was just kidding himself. "Fuck," he said out loud, over the comm.
"My sentiments exactly, Lieutenant," replied Starks. "We have our orders. Marathon out."
Dupree sat in silence for a few seconds before relaying the orders to his flight. "Hammer Flight, Hammer One. You all heard it, but I'll repeat it. We're to enter the Gandhi's neutral zone and chase the Federation out of there. CEGA will be doing the same with our Republic allies. The Marathon will be a few minutes behind us, just like a Hachiman, the Murasame, will be a few minutes behind our CEGA counterparts. We are not to engage anyone unless fired on first. Form up and burn. Over." He took note as the three Lancers took up position around him, with Two above, Three below and to port, and Four below and to starboard.
"On my mark." He gripped the fighter's throttle controls. "Burn."
In unison, all four fighters' tails lit and they sped through space, heading for the Gandhi.
Author's Afterward
Just to note, there's more to this story than what I'm presenting here. Come back in a month or two to find out what.
| Jovian APAworks | Volume 1, Number 2 | January, 2001 |
Jovian Chronicles is © 2001, Dream Pod 9, Inc. All rights reserved. Jovian APAworks is not affiliated with Dream Pod 9 in any way. Submitted material remains the property of the creator.