This Forsaken World Chapter 2
Commander Devin Crowe
As my flight team filed into the debriefing room I sighed inwardly and took my place at the podium. The room was set up in a rectangle with two rows of seats extending six by four. I leaned forward against the podium and smiled at the group of pilots assembled before me.
There were five people in the squadron, each a talented and skilled pilot, however no member of the New Alliance Military had space combat experience.
There had been no in-fighting for several years as the only threat was the infected humans on the planet surface. In space, there was peace and stability as everyone focused there efforts on the construction of the fleet. It was a critical weakness I saw and the only solution was to put my pilots through extensive maneuvers, attempting to imitate actual combat as realistically as possible. Unfortunately, my flight team was short. The average squadron had up to twelve ships and pilots, the 22nd reapers however were six pilots short. We still had the fighters on standby, but due to logistics issues and lack of recruits, we were the most understaffed unit in the fleet. I had countered this by selecting the most promising cadets out of the academy and I held each of them to a high standard. We had proven to be the most combat effective unit in bomber escort and training drills.
"Alright, lets get this started." I turned my attention to my second in command, Lieutenant Commander Jewel Anders, known as Angel to her fellow reapers. The woman was well muscled with bright red hair and piercing green eyes. "Angel, what did you do wrong during the escort mission?" I asked, leaning back against the white board behind me.
The redhead sighed, audibly growling in response. "I failed to follow military protocol and misused pilot identification. Other than that, I think we did pretty good....sir." It was obvious by her tone of voice the 'sir' was tacked on to make a point.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, we did, didn't we? Still, as flight leader I have to bring things like this up, you know that." Jewel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her ample chest. "Roger that boss." She stated, looking away and staring at the wall.
"Right, Everyone else did well aside from Lieutenant Graves, you were a bit rough out there. I need you to polish your formation positioning a bit and try to distance a little more. You almost clipped Smith's wing." Sid Graves, or 'Tombstone' as we called him, scratched the back of his shaved head. "Sorry about that Commander, I'll try to work on that, sir." The man was very large and barely fit into a cockpit, standing easily six foot seven with rippling muscles. He was the most junior officer to join and as such had the least experience flying.
I glanced about the room, taking in the rest of the reapers. There was Lieutenant Commander John Romeo, known simply as 'Romeo' since his last name was the perfect call-sign to begin with. Standing at mid-height, roughly five nine, he was athletic but lean. His hair was brown in a short crew cut and he had a carefree attitude that made being around him enjoyable.
Sitting beside him was Lieutenant Mitch Wilson, or Raptor. Mitch was the shortest person in the room and he was very aware of it. While he seemed friendly on the surface, the man was actually quite rough and aggressive. I pegged it as a reflex from people giving him a hard time about his height, but when it came to flying, he was one of the best I had ever seen.
The last reaper was Lieutenant Gary Smith, or Doom as he was affectionately known. The pilot had dyed his hair white with a middle part, he was on the taller side without being too tall and he was well muscled. Gary had more simulation kills than anyone else in the fleet, other than myself, and he was the resident comedian among the group.
'Alright, now that the debriefing is over, lets head to the space station bar and get some alcohol in our system, we have twenty four hours of leave, lets take advantage of this." A collective 'Yes' resounded among everyone as they exchanged high fives. I grinned and led everyone out of the room.
Sergeant Victor Grimm
The squad had managed to sneak aboard one of the transport ships heading for a resupply mission on the orbital space station. Everyone knew if we were caught by the military police or a nosy officer the reprimand would be horrible, but we also knew we could die any day due to our jobs and we took advantage of every moment we were alive. The trip was rough, the pilot of the transport ship obviously running late and in a hurry, and several of us hit our heads on the ride up.
After what felt like a year, we finally docked with the station and waited as the airlock umbilical extended and we filed out of the cramped storage space. Luck was with us as there was no guard, and we breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Alright, the bar is on the second level, there are a lot of spacers up there so try not to act like soldiers or this trip is going to be cut short. We're simply cargo haulers meeting for a cold one, everyone got it?" I asked, looking from one squad member to the next.
After I felt confident we could pass by safely without attracting unwanted attention, we made our way to the second level and filed into the very spacious bar. The place was luxurious and well stocked. They had every type of alcoholic beverage you could fit on a shelf, with a small food menu and a long oak bar-top. There were scattered tables with two to eight seats and several benches ran the outer length with red padded cushions.
Unlucky for us, there were three separate fighter and bomber squadrons from the carriers spread throughout the bar. A handful of deck officers were seated in a corner with a range of mechanics, weapons officers and some trainees scattered about. I breathed in heavily, hoping things wouldn't escalate, and indicated my squad take a table away from the others.
The soldiers of the U.E.D.F. were talking excitedly among themselves and I made my way to the bar to place our orders. The bartender stared at me suspiciously but kept things professional. "What can I get you?" He asked, wiping down a glass and placing it upside down on a clean cloth. The man was obviously suspicious of my group and he kept casting sidelong glances at the fleet officers.
"We'll have six orders of barbecue wings and a steady supply of beers. Also some cheese sticks if you would please." I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the bar-top. The man stared at me for a moment before lowering his voice so only I could hear it. "Look, I know you guys aren't supposed to be up here and I really don't want a brawl to break out so could you please keep it quiet. I don't want things to blow up, I just bought those tables after the last fight."
I gave the man a reassuring grin and a wink, heading back to the table and taking my seat. The truth was, if the spacers wanted to start something, I really wasn't sure if I could stop my squad from taking them up on the offer. The hatred between fleet personnel and ground troops was a long standing feud of hatred and jealousy.
The U.E.D.F. despised the spacers since they were living in luxury in space. They had fresh food, clean clothing, plentiful water, warm quarters and nothing to threaten there lives on a daily basis. The people trapped on the surface either died from starvation and exposure, being torn apart by ravenous zombies, or suffered from rampant crime and violence among there fellow humans.
Everyone aboard spaceships or space stations were under the impression everything was okay on the ground since the great walls protected everyone, but things were getting worse by the day as resources became even more scarce and the population was too large for the small space they were trapped in. While me and my squad did our best to defend the walls against the zombies, we couldn't fight a battle on two fronts and there was literally no military or police presence within the cities.
I tried to push my dark thoughts down as the drinks arrived. We spread our bounty among ourselves and I held my mug high for a toast. "To survival." I declared in a firm voice. Everyone became serious at once as they heard the words and they all raised there mugs. "To survival." They repeated and everyone took a long swig of the bitter liquid.
Just as I was about to take another drink, a firm voice announced. "I think you all should leave now. We don't want your kind in here." All I could think was...well shit....
Commander Devin Crowe
The bar was a normal gathering place for the fleet squadrons and as such one other flight team was seated off to the side along with some staff officers and utility personnel. I indicated a nearby table and the reapers took there seats, getting comfortable.
One of the great things about this place was the service, the bartender was so used to our presence he would greet us as soon as we were seated and we didn't have to go to him.
"Reapers, glad to see you. I heard today's attack was a success, congratulations. The usual?" He asked, a broad smile on his face. I looked at everyone and the group all nodded in agreement. "Roger that, thanks Reggie." The owner smiled and walked back to the bar-top to prepare our drinks.
As we began to converse, a deep powerful voice caught everyone's attention and I turned my head, having to crane my neck to look up at the towering figure before me. "I believe this table is ours..." The behemoth stated.
The man, if you could call him that, was easily taller than Graves, standing around six eight or nine. He was solid muscle and from the way his veins bulged I could imagine him crushing my bones to dust in a bear hug. Growling, I stood up and faced the man, my pitiful six four barely coming up to his chest. "I think not, this table is for the reapers, and unless your good enough to drink with us, I suggest you piss off!" I puffed my chest up, attempting to intimidate the man.
We squared off for several long moments, my fellow squad mates taking there places flanking me as a large number of men and a woman fanned out behind the towering figure in front of me. Finally, the big man broke into a grin and gave me a bear hug, being careful not to break anything. I returned the friendly embrace and both groups exchanged handshakes and claps on the back. Excited chatter broke out as two tables were brought together for the gathering.
"Damn Sledge, you sure know how to enter a room." I smiled, clapping the larger man on the shoulder. My best friend and longtime mentor, Lieutenant Commander Anthony Chambers, or Sledge, was the flight leader of the 12th bomber squadron, Hammer Squad. His group was the ships we had escorted during this mornings bombing run and I was grateful to see he was okay. While normally a strike like we had performed would have little to no danger, there were always risks and seeing a friend after such an event was a relieving experience.
"Yeah sorry, I couldn't help it. Besides, we both know you'd kick my ass if we ever got into a real fight." He grinned broadly as our drinks were delivered, the bartender noticing the Hammer's appearance and compensating with additional drinks. "I doubt it, I may know how to fight better than you, both on the ground and in the stars, but size does matter, no matter who says otherwise." I took a healthy swig and grinned as the alcohol burned its way down my throat.
"That's not entirely true Wraith, Our fighters could take any Hammer bomber in a one on one any day of the week. We may be smaller but we're twice as fast and far more maneuverable." Jewel slammed her mug on the table in front of Sledge and leaned forward, rewarding the man with a wealth of cleavage. Anthony swallowed heavily and smiled. "Care to test that theory little Angel?" He asked, draining his mug in one gulp.
As everyone continued to talk I noticed a group of people enter the bar and sighed heavily. It was twelve members of the U.E.D.F. pretending to be spacers. I bit my lip in irritation and as the barkeep turned to look at me, wondering what to do, I gave him a nod to service the group. While I wanted to avoid a fight that I knew would come, I had to consider the trade offs. I had been to the surface before and I knew what the soldiers went through every day and they really did deserve a nice cold beer somewhere safe. I just hoped no one would notice and cause any problems.
Things seemed alright for a while as the fleet personnel were too busy talking to each other to notice the ground troops, I caught Raptor glaring at the group and sighed. "Ah hell...Sledge." I nudged the large man in the ribs to get his attention.
Glancing at me sideways, the behemoth followed my gaze as Raptor approached the U.E.D.F.
"Get ready for a brawl. Raptor won't leave this alone, he's going to start something."
Sergeant Victor Grimm
"What the hell is your problem, we're just here for a drink, leave us alone you dirty spacer!" One of my squad mates yelled, spittle spraying out of his mouth. I cringed at the words 'Dirty Spacer' and braced myself for a fight.
It took longer then I expected as a truly frightening figure approached and gripped the back of the instigators jacket, lifting him off the ground and setting him aside. "I'm sorry gentleman but this is a fleet bar. While I admit you accusing us of being dirty is very insulting, I must insist everyone keep this friendly and professional. Both of you apologize to each other and then you'll have to leave this establishment." The towering pilot spoke all of this without any emotion in his voice.
I looked at Higguns, the man who had insulted the pilots. "Hey, lets do what they say. We've already had a round and I really don't want to deal with any fighting right now. Besides, this dude looks like he could crush your head with little to no effort. If you want to start something, that's fine, but let me leave first." I nodded to the big pilot and drained my mug, standing up and heading towards the door. The squad fell in behind me, everyone except Higguns who squared off against the behemoth.
"We have a right to drink wherever we want, just because you think this is your bar doesn't make it true. Now I'm going to eat my real chicken wings and drink good beer and you can't stop me. You have any idea what I went through today?! You dirty fleet dogs can't stop me from enjoying myself!" He roared in defiance, standing on his tip toes to try and seem taller.
All I could was cringe as the sound of breaking wood filled up the bar. From there, it turned into pure chaos as both groups charged at each other and a terrifying fight broke out. Higguns had been thrown across the room and now lay crumpled on a cushion, shaking his head like a dog as he tried to clear his vision.
Despite the fact the spacers outnumbered us, we were used to intense physical combat and training on a daily basis and we naturally were hardier and better fighters. Some of the pilots tried to fight with martial arts but my men were used to fighting dirty and they easily countered such maneuvers with bar stools, beer mugs of anything they could get there hands on.
I tried to avoid the bulk of the combat but eventually found myself facing a man of similar build. While he seemed to be a superior officer to the others, he was more professional and seemed just as reluctant to engage in the fight as I was. I sized the officer up and he nodded his head in a gesture of respect as I rushed him.
The pilot ducked his head as I threw a right hook and he countered with a jab to my midsection. While I was well muscled with a clearly defined six pack, the blow took me by surprise and I grunted, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. I staggered back and ducked as a random bar stool swung over my head, the makeshift weapon clearly intended for a different target. As I shifted my attention back to my opponent, my respect for the man grew as he had waited for me to focus on the fight one more, not taking advantage of the distraction.
I nodded my head in thanks and kicked out with my right leg. While I expected him to grab the leg or something similar, he instead raised his knee to block the attack and threw himself forward into a grapple. We tumbled across the floor for a few moments before coming up in front of the bar top, squaring off again.
"Sorry about this Reggie." The man pulled his wallet out and slid it across the smooth oak surface to the bartender. "Take what you need for the damage." The pilot turned on me again and apparently the surprise in my eyes was obvious. "I knew this was coming, no reason Reggie here should suffer because of it." My admiration for my opponent grew as I charged him again.
I attempted to pull off a round house and again the man caught me off guard, most fighters would instinctively duck under the leg, this man however grabbed my foot mid strike and used it to knock me off balance. I stumbled as I landed on the floor hard.
Before I could stand up however, a fist connected with my jaw and stars filled my vision. A second strike sent me into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.