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new orders for you. You’re to leave Jaxx. For now. He’ll be flagged as target number two. Target number one will be to extract a Drew Avera. He has no training, no military background, and no backbone. Should be a piece of piss.” The Admiral had to be in his own quarters, or he’d never have spoken so loosely.

“Requesting permission to speak freely,” said Cole

“Permission granted.”

“I want that maggot Jaxx squirming on my line, sir.”

“I know, Cole. We all do. And he’ll get what’s coming to him. But I’ve just had a very illuminating conversation with Colonel Slade.”

“Slade, sir?

“Indeed.”

Cole nodded. Things were getting interesting. Slade was back in the mix.

“Seems his mission to Callisto intersects with our own interests.”

Cole waited. The admiral didn’t elaborate.

“This Drew fellow is something of a fly in the ointment. He got close to the plans, but has the wrong end of the stick, which is how we’d like it to stay. You need to extract him, however you may.”

“Extract, sir?”

“Correct, Cole. He’s a threat to our future.”

“Admiral, I’ll wrap up the assignment and deliver the target to you. Clear.”

“Good man, Cole.”

Cole could hear the whiskey decanter hit the side of the admiral’s glass as he signed off. Would have been nice, to have a whiskey in space. But taking care of what needed taking care of suited him better. If Drew Avera was a threat, he’d remove him. With prejudice. Prejudice, speed, efficiency, and relish.

He sat in a strong posture, exuding calm and focus. In less than twenty seconds, he’d descend to a planet he hadn’t been on in years. It was nice to be home, even for a short stint.

He waited for Star Warden to relay Avera’s last known fingerprints. Sure enough, the location came through. Portland, Oregon. Home to the biggest band of bleeding-heart hippies on the planet. He didn’t even need to be discreet. Half the population of Oregon would be stoned and awed, the other half would simply accept it as a cosmic event. Karma come home to roost, or some other nonsense.

He’d approach quietly, landing by the waterfront, find his way to Avera, and then end his time on the planet.

Ten seconds until entry. He’d go for a brief grab, twist, and release. Hopefully not too many people would try to interfere. Right now, he didn’t care. He cared more about the new alliance Gentry formed with Slade. That was one shit show he did not want to miss.

39

June 8thUnderfoot Black, Grenada

Though he cruised through space at sub-light speed 2.5, roughly 17,000 miles per hour, somewhere far, far away, Jaxx could hear Donny’s tinny voice, urging him to remain under, to search for the power source, to unlock the secret codes and give them the key. He had no clue what the man was on about.

“Remember what I always say,” Rivkah whispered over his comm. “Butts in buckets, bullets in battle, then back to base.”

Jaxx grinned. If anything could make him go to war, it was her.

“Squad leaders, listen up,” Fox’s voice oozed over Jaxx’s cockpit comm line.

All squadrons had been deployed and were eleven miles from Star Cruiser Liberty. A blue and green planet, looking much like Earth, came into view.

According to the intel the screen at the bottom of his helmet was feeding him, it was Taiyo.

“Viper Squadron, enter Taiyo twelve degrees north, thirty-two degrees east. Boom Squadron, thirteen degrees north, thirty-three degrees east. Hell squadron, eleven degrees north, thirty-one degrees east. We’ll hammer all angles of their main base. They do not know we are showing up. They do not know if we mean harm. If you receive communication from them, do not answer.”

Over his right wing, Jaxx saw hundreds of fighters barreling toward Taiyo. Jaxx was at the outer rim of the starfighters, Fox and Rivkah directly in front of him. He swallowed hard, doing his best not to piss his pants.

His personal comm channel blared back to life. “Rivkah, Jaxx, this is Captain Fox. We’re sweeping in at coordinates two degrees north, two degrees east, just above the equatorial region. We are on a reconnaissance mission of sorts. We’re tasked to punch in and punch out of a main city. We’ll do some damage, but keep it light. We want to put the frighteners on them, not flatten them. When they move out, we move in. They are extracting resources at that location. Resources that we could use. Understood?”

“Affirmative, sir,” Jaxx had a bad, bad feeling.

“That’s not the assignment we were given,” came Rivkah. “What happened to being the last strafe run at the base we’re targeting?”

“Things changed. Get prepared, because we enter Taiyo’s atmosphere in forty-one seconds. If things get bad down there, don’t punch out. No telling what they’ll do to you once you step on their soil. Better to die than be a slave.”

Right on cue, Jaxx’s cockpit beeped with hundreds of enemy craft flying through Taiyo’s exosphere and heading their way. Round one underway.

“Enemy craft, twelve o’clock,” yelled a pilot.

“We see them, ready to engage. Fire whenever the hell you want to,” said Fox.

The Air Wings let loose and plasma bolts dotted the view along with Space to Space Short Range Missiles—SSRM-23 Slingers—with blue flames streaming out the missiles’ backs, propelling them at upwards of twenty thousand miles per hour.

Jaxx, on the other hand, kept his finger off the trigger. He figured he’d only fire if fired upon.

The enemy bandits pulled evasion maneuvers with expert coordination and skill, evading them.

“Holy shit, did you see that?” screamed a pilot.

The enemy fighters zipped on by, spinning on their sides, passing through narrow gaps between each Air Wing. The enemy still hadn’t fired a single shot.

“Viper Squad, pull around and engage. The rest, continue to coordinates,” ordered Fox. “Looks like they like to fight in tight corners, even out in space. Spread out. Don’t give them an advantage.”

Jaxx’s personal comm line crackled on. It was Fox. “Veer off. We’re entering the atmosphere and at the specified coordinates. Get ready. Shit’s about to

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