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Chapter 1
Posted By: clancyrdr<clancyrdr@yahoo.com>
Date: 9 June 2008, 3:05 am
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1330 HOURS, JULY 4, 2544 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / DELTA PAVONIS SYSTEM, CITY OF NEW PHOENIX, PLANET AGNI
Sergey Sokolov took a short sip of his soda, taking in the afternoon news from a rather attractive anchor on the viewscreen. He cursed the Navy's standing policy of No Drinking on Duty; the pilot could really use a shot of vodka right now, even with the outside temperature hovering close to 120 degrees. He smiled, remembering the words of his deceased father: Vodka, black bread, and fighter jets are all evidence of a benevolent God. His father would be proud of him, he knew; defending not only the Motherland but all of humanity.
In all actuality, he should have been back on base doing paperwork, running inspections, and fraternizing with his men rather than wasting his time in a deserted bar. He smiled in spite of himself. Being air wing commander did have its perks.
Along with those perks, however, came responsibility. Sokolov was responsible for all land-borne UNSC spacecraft of the Delta Pavonis System, most of which were based at New Phoenix Naval Air Station, located on the outskirts of the medium-sized city. The planet Agni was one UNSC's first lines of protection in the event of a Covenant assault on the remaining Inner Colonies. Stationed at New Phoenix Naval Air Station in its defense were 67 Longsword Interceptors, 31 Pelican dropships, six large Albatross transports, three of the ugly but reliable Ducks—merely for transporting personnel to and from orbiting ship—and various runabout planes, orbital vehicles, and recon satellites. All of this complimented the larger ships usually stationed in the system on routine patrols or resupply. As if that wasn't enough, at any given moment, there would be anywhere from five to ten capital ships within a day's reach of the system. Even with all of this firepower, Sergey still always felt insecure. Agni was probably the most vulnerable planet in UNSC-controlled space. It stuck out into Covenant territory like a sore thumb, presenting a likely target for the next enemy attack—which was not a matter of if, but when. He had requested this assignment not only for the opportunity to hone his flying skills, but also to get another crack at the Covenant.
The fact that Sergey was air wing commander of the UNSC's 20th Air and Space Wing was quite deceiving. In fact, he was actually a captain of four months, promoted upon completion of his fifth campaign in March at the Battle of Miridem. That encounter had resulted in yet another defeat. In fact, of all five large scale engagements Sokolov had fought in, only one had managed not to be a tactical disaster for the UNSC—and that was fought against fellow human Insurrectionists. No matter how many brilliant tacticians and state-of-the-art ships were thrown into the mix, the Covenant's advanced technology always came out on top. After serving in the UNSC for nearly 15 years and stomaching defeat after defeat, he secretly doubted humankind could ever win this war.
As Sokolov turned down to take another drink from his Coca-Cola, the viewscreen caught his eye. Above the anchor's shoulder floated the insignia for the UNSC Defense Force. He leaned forward, straining to hear her voice: "…UNSC representative was being probed with questions from the press at the arrival of two massive frigates into geostationary orbit above New Phoenix Naval Air Station only 20 minutes ago. The UNSC is being very quiet, saying it is simply staging for a large exercise taking place later this month…" He reached into his pocket for his PDA—damn! It had been left sitting on his desk. Nonetheless, he should have received something on his neural transplant by now, so what the hell? Sokolov stood, waved his credit chip over the remote sensor in the table, and headed for the door. Any self-respecting service member knew that the UNSC didn't run exercises anymore, not with the fleet stretched as thin as it was. He climbed into his car, backed it out of the space, and sped down the empty street toward freeway.
The drive to the air station was uneventful, though it did involve going 15mph over the posted speed limit. Ten minutes later, the Marine guards at the gate were waving him into the base perimeter. Instead of wearing normal dress fatigues and sporting their M6G sidearm's as they usually did, these men were decked out in full battle dress, holding MA5B's and nervously glancing around, as if waiting for something to happen. That made Sokolov nervous. Many of the Marines attached to the base's security were battle hardened and not rattled by much. Oh god! he thought to himself as butterflies began to form in his stomach. It's the Covenant…oh shit, shit, shit! He stomped on the gas pedal and accelerated across the tarmac toward the command building, praying that this was in fact a drill.
Walking into the operations center, he immediately realized that nothing was ordinary. Normally, there was a Ensign or Lieutenant standing watch over a quiet, dimly lit, and understaffed room.
Not today.
Every console's screen was up and manned by an enlisted men, all either talking rapidly into their radios, tersely giving orders, or tapping away on keyboards with speed that would impress even a new-generation AI. Several large screens at the front of the dark room displayed the overall tactical situation. The threat board, he immediately saw, was empty.
Captain Sokolov's Executive Officer, a young Lieutenant Commander named Edgar Watson, noticed him from across the room and hurriedly walked over. The man's uniform was disheveled, and he was clearly distressed. Despite this, he managed to snap off a crisp salute. "Captain, sir. Its good to see you. I've been trying to contact you, but couldn't get an answer."
Sergey silently cursed himself for leaving the base. "Didn't think to try my implant?" he asked, already aggravated at the situation.
The officer shook his head sheepishly, causing his face to appear even more youthful. "No, sir, sorry, sir. It's been pretty hectic around here, as you can see." Both spoke in hushed voices as to avoid disturbing the deadened atmosphere of the room.
Sokolov reminded himself to be patient. The kid tried his best, and was a helluva fighter pilot. With the huge number of casualties incurred by the war, people were being promoted much faster than they ought to have been.
Sokolov sighed, trying to relax. "Very well. Let's head over to my office and you can give me a sit-rep." They stepped out of the room, momentarily blinded by the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway. "Ok, Ed. Let's hear it."
"Just take a look at this, sir." He produced a PDA from his breast pocket, manipulated a few buttons, and presented it the captain. Sokolov stopped mid-step, his mouth hung open.
United Nations Space Command ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 01989W-74
Encryption Code: Red
Public Key: file /november-omega-one/
From: Ensign William Richards, Commanding Officer, Socrates Remote Scanning Outpost, Delta Pavonis System/ (UNSC Service Number: 10536-88622-WR)
To: Admiral Jonathan Wallace, FLEETCOM Sector Four Commander/ (UNSC Service Number: 48056-88420-JW) and ALL UNSC warships and military installations within the DELTA PAVONIS system
Subject: COVENANT VECTORS
Classification: Classified (ONI Directive 9-54K)
/start file/
Probable Covenant warships detected, inbound to Delta Pavonis System via slipstream space. Estimate 3 medium tonnage vessels. ETA in-system 2 hrs 30 min. Relative course 240 by 010.
As per HIGHCOM standing order 30-J-548, all ships in-system are ordered to rally point VICTOR at best speed.
/end file/
Press ENTER to view attachments.
Sokolov didn't bother looking any further.
"This is the real deal, isn't it, sir?" Watson asked, looking up at his CO.
"Yes. Yes, it is." He stood there for a very long five seconds, one of the few on the planet smart enough to be scared shitless. Not for his own life, but for the lives' of the five million citizens of Agni. Worse yet, there was no time for reinforcements to arrive. They were on their own. "What about the frigates?"
"Apache and Constantinople are in geostationary orbit above us right now. Okinawa is 30 minutes out. They were all on patrol in-system when the news broke. The senior officer is Captain Ashlyn Kimura on Constantinople. I've spoken with her, and she wants every Longsword we have up there asap. Of course, I couldn't do that without your authorization, sir."
"Very well. I want a two sections of three flying CAP in atmosphere, pattern three. Scramble everyone else into orbit, and pass them over to the fleet… that does includes you and me, Ed." At that, he could see a slight smile tug at the young officer's face. "Have you spoken with Admiral Wallace?"
"Briefly, sir. He wanted to speak with you as soon as possible, naturally."
"Alright, then. I'll go make some calls. Let me know if anything changes," he said as he shut his office door behind him.
"Aye, captain," Watson replied to no one in particular, just as the full force of what was happening struck home.
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