"How long?"
"If you will give us the specifications for the ships you want missiles for or let our engineers see the tubes, we should be able to produce prototypes for any that vary from the current JPU missile we were producing for you. Changing them all to meet your specifications...three to five weeks depending on the differences. Two if they are all going to be the same as the one we have been making for you."
"There will be three different types. I will have the specifications sent to you and the number required for each. You have three weeks to make the conversion."
"Then there are the panels that are required for the Dragonfly missiles. As you are aware, Admiral Serhat refused the panels, since he wanted the Duster and Dummy missiles only. Therefore, we have no idea where you want the panels, what size they will need to be, the writing on the keys and controls, or how they will be connected to your system. If the current panels for the SAS and UFN—"
"You've made your point, bitch Ioana. I will send a shuttle for your engineers tomorrow morning at eight hundred hours. Don't push my patience." He cut the connection before I could reply.
"He almost sounded reasonable." Costin gave a short laugh.
"Because he had little choice. But you can bet we earned another entry in his black book. Probably reviews it every night before bed, fantasizing about what torment he will exact for each entry."
"Not a nice thought, Ioana."
"I'm afraid the Admiral doesn't believe in win-win solutions. He likes he wins you lose solutions. So, we have to make him feel like he's winning. Contact the senior engineers for the panels and missiles, and have them here tomorrow at eight."
CHAPTER SIX
Freeland: Blue Kraits
Terril stood in front of a group of one hundred seventy, mostly men, in a remote and rugged area of Freeland. They didn't look like the typical recruits one saw for commandos: young, physically fit, and cocky. This group looked in their thirties and forties, out of condition, and surly. If Nadya hadn't been her long-term friend with a vision for thwarting the JPU, she would have thrown up her hands in disgust and concluded making soldiers out of this group would take years—commandos never. But she would no more disappoint Nadya than she would walk in space without a suit. Nadya said she wanted fifty commandos, so fifty of these...misfits would have to survive her.
"When are our instructors arriving?" a big man of girth and height shouted. Terril smiled, coming out of her musing. Just what she needed, an example. People learned best from examples, rather than long boring lectures.
"You are looking at them," she said. "I was standing here wondering when the candidates were arriving."
"Girly, you aren't going to teach me anything I didn't learn years ago. I could teach you a thing or two," he either smiled or sneered, Terril wasn't sure.
"Grandpa, years ago you might have lasted a minute or two with me, but now?" Terril laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. The man pushed aside the two men in front of him and charged her. He grinned, his eyes bright with excitement as Terril took a step backward. But at his next step, she exploded into him, knee driving into his groin, shoulder into his chest, and head into his chin. The two seemed to stand suspended, then the man dropped. "Any more clowns in the crowd?"
A short man with a scarred face twisted into an evil grin stepped forward holding a dagger. "You think us clowns? I'll show you funny." He approached slowly, the knife moving back and forth, until he was just out of reach. He licked his lips, which Terril knew was nothing but a distraction technique, then lunged at her stomach. Terril twisted right, her right arm guiding the knife past her stomach while her left elbow drove into his temple, which cracked under the force of the impact. Her right hand snaked up, locked onto his wrist, and held him in place as her left hand shot back—knife edge—into his throat. He dropped to his knees gasping for breath and died less than a minute later.
"It was my understanding that you came here to learn to be commandos, to fight our enemies, the JPU, and to fly again. Grandpa lying over there is obviously too old to learn new tricks. He thinks in terms of the old days of raiding, when you descended on small communities whose local militia would be lucky to hit a standing target one out of five times, had few if any modern weapons, and were taken by surprise. Those are not commandos. Those are Raiders. Commandos are elite men and women who after helping the ship crew make repairs, fetch and carry parts and equipment, move the dead and wounded for ten to fifteen hours, and getting tired to the point of collapse, are capable of overcoming their tiredness and mind-numbing fatigue to board crippled cruisers and fight trained military with modern weapons. That is not achieved without great effort and desire." She paused to look at each individual. "Those of you that are willing to work eighteen hours a day and endure the hell I'm going to inflict on you for the next ten months and want to be part of the Riss...family, stay. Those that think you are already commandos, take grandpa and go home. And take the one who doesn't know his friends from his enemies with you." Terril stood quietly waiting as people collected in groups and talked. In the end, some twenty left.
"Some of us have never been Raiders," a young woman in her late twenties said, more as a question than a statement.
"So we understand each other. I don't care whether you are male or female or whether you have fighting experience. I would be just as happy with fifty women as fifty men. In the end, it will be those of you who can survive the hell I'm going to subject you to for the next ten months. Those, I will transform into respectable fighting machines. They will have the right to call themselves commandos, Freeland's Blue Kraits.
* * *
The first two months saw the remaining one hundred seventy shrink to one hundred thirty-one—one hundred eight men and twenty-three women. The training was confined to endurance and muscle building, basic self-defense, and reflex exercises in and out of mockup buildings. Twelve had quit for one reason or another. Terril had dismissed the other twenty-seven because of poor attitudes, slow reflexes, or an inability to keep up.
The next two months, weapons were introduced in addition to the other activities—the day got longer. Another twenty-one were released—five voluntarily and sixteen for poor performance.
The next two months, team exercises were added, the existing activities became harder, and the day got longer. Another twenty-eight dropped out or were asked to leave—seventy men and twelve women remained.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Freeland: Wraiths
"I say we send the dreamers home," Anca said, preparing for the meeting with the one hundred thirty volunteers the next day.
"What do you mean? Aren't we all dreaming of excitement and glory?" Iosif asked, grinning.
"Go home, Iosif. Flying is exciting and an adrenalin rush, but war is not like the after-action bullshit. We need to introduce some reality and hopefully get rid of the dreamers who really aren't a good fit."
"How would you recommend we go about that?" Sorin asked.
"Make the first month a lot of physical and mental work," Anca said.
"That might work. We do need to eliminate over half of the volunteers. I agree that not everyone is suited for war, and Leader Reese's fighter units have seen the most action of any of the Riss ships. And while she isn't viewed as reckless, her fighter units have seen heavy casualties."
"We have the specifications for the...Wraiths. Let's start with them learning the controls, weapons, and specifications for Wraiths and introduce some physical and reflex exercises."
"Agreed," Sorin said. Iosif said nothing.
* * *
"Good morning. For those who don't know me, I'm Sorin Ja'Kazak. I served with Anton Ja'Kazak during our raiding days. My companions are Anca Sa'Veltre and Iosif Ba'Tasuo. Like me, they are ex-Raiders and were combat shuttle pilots. We have been asked to select and train a group to fly and maintain the new fighters the Riss are secretly developing with our help.
"What about the JPU?" a tall young woman asked. She looked to be in her early twenties.
"They would not be happy if they found out. Probably kill us all, since I doubt the Riss are considering helping the JPU.
"But they are cooperating. We are upgrading their ships with their technology and producing missiles for their systems," a weather-beaten middle-aged man said angrily.
"If the Riss weren't appearing to cooperate with the JPU, their troopers would be running wild through Freeland today—like they did the first couple of weeks. I don't know exactly what they are planning, but you wouldn't be standing here today if they weren't up to something."
"Our first task is to select those of you who will be in the first group. We need ten primary pilots, ten weapons operators, and ten backups—five each."
"The only others we need are a couple of mechanics for each fighter," Anca said when Sorin paused. "So, be on notice right now that less than half of you will qualify. You will have to prove to the three of us that you are willing to work hard for a position on the team, that supporting the Riss to free Freeland is more important than your ego. Because we are going to take a very Riss-like philosophy and place you in the position we feel best meets the needs of this new unit—the Freeland Wraiths.
* * *
That first month, the three alternated between time in the classroom discussing the new fighter's specifications, conducting physical training, and working with the Riss on a simulator. Fifteen of the recruits voluntarily decided to leave, for one reason or another.
One flight simulator was delivered during the second month, and everyone was tested to determine their reflexes, judgment, and interest. Surprisingly, not everyone wanted to be a pilot. Many of the candidates came to realize that doing maintenance on the fighters or operating the weapons would be more interesting. The simulator proved helpful in identifying those who might want to be pilots but who would never qualify, as well as in helping people realize flying a fighter wasn't as glamorous as it sounded.
By the end of the third month, Anca and Sorin, who had evolved into the senior instructors due to Iosif's lack of interest, had given everyone their assignments, and the classrooms for pilots, weapons operators, and mechanics became separate. Most were comfortable with their assigned positions—those who weren't left. That brought the number of remaining candidates to eighty, twenty of whom were women, more or less equally split between the three positions.
During the fourth month, two fighter prototypes were delivered. Iosif became the primary test pilot along with Anca. Sorin appeared to have become the senior instructor and had proven excellent at organization and tactics. The new two-man fighter was much like the old fighters: a closed-in compartment for the pilot sitting on a powerful engine, and multiple weapons hanging off the wings. The differences between the Riss and SAS fighters were the addition of a weapons operator, four small engines rather than one delivering roughly the same maximum thrust, and the new missiles designed to take advantage of the spiders on the JPU-modified cruisers and fighters.
During the fifth and sixth months, four more fighters were delivered, so everyone had an opportunity to fly, operate weapons, or to work on one. Ten more recruits were eliminated, bringing the total to seventy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Freeland: Six months and counting
I sat in the conference room the Ja'Tuva clan had dedicated to me. With me were Ni'Shay, Terril, Sorin, Anca, JPU upgrades project manager Liviu, Riss fighters project manager Ilinca, and the three Riss responsible for software. Named after Celtic goddesses, sister r-Bean was responsible for the chips in stealth coatings, r-Badb for system spiders, and r-Nemain for fighter software.
"I've asked you all here for an update. The Mnemosyne sent a tight-beam signal yesterday, giving her position seven days from now. At that time, I will give her new instructions based on your assessments of our readiness," I said, looking around the room at each individual. "Liviu?"
"We remain on Admiral Neifeh's schedule. We could do better, but we pretend we are having trouble meeting the current schedule, as you asked. We have camouflaged some four hundred and ten fighters, ten per upgraded cruiser. Specifically, thirty-six Lights and five Heavies. And we have stealth-coated five Light cruisers. They are testing them right now." He smiled. "All of those ships have multiple chips embedded in the stealth-material.
"r-Bean?"
**At the right frequency and accompanied by the correct string of digits, they emit a coded string detailing their unique identification,** her voice box said in response to her signing.
"Ilinca?"
"We have produced two simulators and six fighters to date. Thanks to Sorin and Anca, I think most of the problems have been resolved. We haven't been able to test the new missiles yet. We will have six additional fighters completed four months from now."
"r-Nemain?"
**The new missile software can lock on the new chip's signal for any selected identification group.**
"r-Badb?"
**The spiders are in every installed panel and Dragonfly. Every Riss serving on a JPU ship knows the codes to invoke the Spiders capable of entering the system software and shutting down the ship.**
"Terril?"
"I've eliminated almost one hundred candidates, but I believe the eighty-two remaining will produce fifty...reasonably good troops within your ten-month window, who may be adequate commandos eventually," she said, grinning.
"I wanted fifty, but if you feel more than fifty qualify, keep them. We may need them. I leave it to you to pick who will lead the unit and the teams." I looked to Sorin and nodded.
"We are down to twenty candidates for pilots, twenty for weapons operators, and thirty for mechanics. Like Terril, Anca and I believe we will have a functional unit of approximately fifty-five within the next four months. We are in a very remote part of Freeland, but we are still limited in the kind of training we can perform without being detected. Anca and I do not believe we will produce the equal of a JPU or SAS trained fighter pilot, but we think the new missile software will give us an advantage," Sorin said.