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IRON FIVE

  AN EARTHFRONT NOVEL

  SEON O. STRONGHOLD

  Copyright 2016 Seon O. Stronghold. All rights reserved.

  Written by Seon O. Stronghold

  St. Vincent and the Grenadines

  Cover design by Seon O. Stronghold, copyright 2016

  Edited by Seon and Rosette Stronghold

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents written here are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This eBook may not be sold or printed without the author’s written consent. If you would like to share this book with another person, feel free to do so. Thank you for respecting my hard work.

 

  PROLOGUE

  Through the cockpit viewscreen, Earth appeared as beautiful as ever and like always, Captain Kelly Winterfield marveled at it. He had been docked at the International Space Station for four hours and now, sitting in the dim pilot’s cabin of The Legacy II, he prepared for departure.

  The station controller’s voice crackled over the comm. “Legacy Two, you’re good for auto and cleared for undocking.”

  “Legacy Two copies clearance on full guidance,” Kelly responded.

  The ship lurched as the powerful arms holding it in place disengaged. Manipulating the controls with experienced nudges this way and that, Kelly turned the freighter a full one hundred and eighty degrees until the view of the planet was replaced by the white shell of the sprawling space complex.

  The International Space Station was an old one, the very first as a matter of fact. Unlike its newer counterparts, it was the only station in the galaxy with this design. Made up of a patchwork of hundreds of years of additions, cylindrical arms, over ten miles long, extended horizontally from its bustling core and harbored thousands of ships of varying sizes, linking them to its interior by way of retractable bridges.

  The Legacy II drifted away from the wharf-like structure and ten minutes later, when the computer indicated that they were safely beyond the outer edges of Earth’s junk rings, Kelly took full control of his ship and ignited its thrusters.

  Seven minutes later, the Legacy II came out of Hyper Light and the coppery-colored planet, Venus, came into view. His destination was a Military facility, five hundred feet above the base of Mount Danu. In all his time delivering for Earthfront, he had never been to this port, had never even heard of it. Whatever the cargo in his hold was, it must have been something really big because only very high-level clearance could get him surface-side on Venus. According to his agent, all he needed to do was pick up the shipment, deliver it, don’t ask questions, make no inspections and not stick his nose into it. Whatever it was, he had an uneasy feeling about the whole deal and just wanted to get there, drop the shipment and get Earth-side in time to catch a shuttle home. Today was his daughter’s birthday. She was, in her own words, officially ten and he knew she would never let it go if he missed her big celebration.

  Do you really have to go out this time?

  His wife had tried to convince him to stay, but this job was important and the credits it would earn him would set them good. His daughter would have a better future and he and Laura would finally be able to go on that honeymoon vacation they always wanted. After all, a Light-Class Space Trucker made barely enough credits to cover the cost of living on Earth, but this time they would be able to make the move to Pluto or Charon. Life on the Border Worlds was easily affordable and less stressful than planetary hubs in the mid-system. His trucking business would flourish out there too. Haulers were always in high demand on the outer edges of Sol.

  The cockpit beeped three times, alerting him of his proximity to atmospheric entry.

  Venus and Mercury, unlike Mars, Jupiter’s moons, Saturn and Neptune’s moons and Pluto and Charon, were nothing more than mining planets. The space stations orbiting Venus numbered only two but Kelly would not be docking in space on this trip. His hauler was one of a few types of interstellar Light-Classers that could make the transition from space to atmosphere and back.

  At twenty thousand kilometers from entry, The Legacy II slowed rapidly, covering the remaining distance in twenty minutes before burning through atmosphere. As the ship transitioned into Venusian airspace, Kelly found, though nothing like Earth, that there was a unique beauty about this hostile world.

  Sulfuric clouds, twenty kilometers thick, spread planet wide below him and lightning lit up the vast blanket in periodic displays of spectacular bursts. A few miles away and even as far as the horizon, Massive barges hung miles above the surface, transporting precious ore to waiting cargo ships in vacuum. But they soon disappeared as the acidic cloud cover enveloped his ship, blotting out the bright yellow sky above. The cockpit shook with turbulent winds and bucked its way through the density of the mid atmospheric storm.

  Beneath the perpetual cover, life on this planet existed in near darkness by day and utter blackness by night. As Kelly broke free of the haze after what seemed like ages, the ship’s external lights automatically activated, illuminating massive wisps of sulfuric acid, drifting lazily along their paths. At twenty thousand feet above ground level, the lights of the mountain base finally came into view and the communications module crackled to life.

  “Legacy Two, this is Outpost Three Command. Give link up and pilot ident, over.”

  “Captain Kelly Winterfield of Legacy Two, Venus bound from Earth.” He read the identification codes on his thigh board and waited for confirmation.

  “Welcome to Venus Captain.”

  The Legacy vibrated as the outpost’s tracking system took control of it, directing the hauler to a docking bay built into the side of the mountain.

  The first thing Kelly noticed, as his ship glided smoothly toward the hangar, was the grunge that had built up along the outer walls of the base. Eversteel would not be corroded by sulfuric acid, but grimy deposits collected over time gave it a disgusting appearance and covered it like a mossy shell.

  The winds had also picked up. Fifty five miles per hour to be exact but the base’s auto guidance system kept the ride stable and when he finally entered the complex, the shaking of the cockpit ceased.

  ********

  Fifty minutes later, Kelly stretched his cramped muscles and leaned against the headrest of his seat. This would be over soon. In the next three hours, he’d be back on Earth with his family and five hundred million credits in the bank.

  The communications console lit up.

  “Legacy Two…shipment has been received, you have clearance for startup, over.”

  Kelly responded “Legacy Two copies clearance for startup.”

  He jumped back into the pilot’s seat, strapped in and ran through the sequence that would ready his ship for the trip home. And as he hit the ignition switch, violent streaks of gunfire lit up the massive hangar outside his viewscreen.

  Kelly’s heart slammed into his chest like an out of control wrecking ball. Tracer rounds shredded men and women in mechanized suits, and mercilessly blew apart ships and armored vehicles. The Legacy II lifted gracefully from the landing pad, glided its way out of the cavernous space and into the strong gusts outside. Without the station’s auto guidance system to keep the ship stable, Kelly had to rely on natural reflexes honed by years of experience; nothing he couldn’t handle.

  The scene before him was unreal. A lone, military grade, walking battle tank viciously tore the place apart as an unmarked transport ship nearby loaded cargo into its hold…his cargo.

  Heart hammering, hands trembling, head swimming, Kelly sent a distress signal to Earth and adjusted his angle of ascent, then rocketed skyward, wanting
nothing more than to escape the madness below. He never saw the four missiles streaking toward him. Then in a bright flash of fiery debris, that last thing he felt was horror.

  FACT

  Kedenians were among the first to leave for the stars. Originally, they settled on Nema; a Goldilocks planet in a system five light years from Earth. But after fifty years of disputes now known as The Splinter Wars, Earthfront expelled the rogue clan, known then as, Keden Industries. Their leader, Amir Kedeni and his supporters were banished and forced to search for a non-hostile world in unknown space and it wasn’t long before they stumbled across a rich, desert planet now named Keden.

  As time passed and mankind colonized many systems in the Milky Way, Large Corporations, Governments and various organizations rose to govern it all. Earthfront, the leading authority in most of our Galactic Domain, is the largest governing body in existence. Yet as peace reigns throughout known space, Keden, it seems, would forever be a hostile world to Earthfront.

 

  CHAPTER 1 - IRON FIVE

  My MAV is part of a five man team on patrol across this barren Kedenian dunescape. I am Alpha Dog, call sign Huski. On my right, is Dachshund and Pitbull and to my left, Akita and Terrier…names chosen by us based on what breed of dog we have on our respective home planets; it is one of the worthwhile things we all have in common.

  MAV’s are the most widely used gear when it comes to military operations, Mechanized Armored Vehicles; walking tanks, so to speak, and just like the rest of the team, mine is a Light-Class Mecha.

  We are Legs-Dangling at forty feet above Artificial Ground Level and heading east at seventy miles per hour. My Heads-Up-Display shows me the sandy terrain and all its contours as they intersect with the computer’s generated lines. These lines keep us clear of obstacles but below dune peaks and off enemy radar. Our mission is simple. Patrol the Outlands and report any anomalies, life-forms and or threats. We are to remain on our side of the fence. For no reason, are we to go beyond the digital and imaginary lines which separate us from the locals. At no point are we to go weapons hot unless fired upon and some more blah, blah, blah. Personally; this being an unfriendly world and all, I think this is bullshit. But this is our mission according to SysDef, the System Defense Administration; our Diplomatic Relations Bureau stationed on this rock, eight thousand light-years from Earth. Our Unit is here to assist these slackers because these weekend soldiers wouldn’t know what to do if the Local Guerillas stood on the borderlines and stared them down, let alone declared a full-scaled attack. The only solace these pushovers have is the fact that the Kedenians know the repercussions of such an act. But as history has taught us so very often, it only takes one madman to take the plunge.

  So we are the servants of SysDef for the time being. However, we don’t take orders from SysDef. Our directives come from General, Alexander ‘Hawk’ Madison; one of the heads of Earthfront Galactic, the military might and arm of our home planet spread out across the Milky Way. Our real mission, as far as our General is concerned, is to confirm that an Earth Based contingent of rebels is here along with their leader and if they are, we are to eliminate them. According to our most recent intelligence report, a few months ago, an Earthfront military base on Venus was attacked and all of the evidence links our targets to the crime.

  Another chill runs through my body as my combat suit, the mechanical and biological link to the machine, cools my skin with filtered air. My communication module lights up.

  “Iron Five…one bar to lights out, Link and rep live, over.”

  Our unit is Iron Five. One bar to lights out means one hour till sunset. Link and rep live means to contact base and report what is happening. The voice in my ear is feminine yet devoid of femininity. Her name is Mirana O’Canon and she is a genuine hard-assed, straight laced, battleaxe woman who kicks ass and takes no prisoners.

  How in the galaxy can a woman be so unwomanly?

  I respond “…Huski to base, nothing but sand and rock out here. We’re runnin’ one bar after lights out before headin’ back, over.”

  “Roger that Captain, squawk on ret.”

  The com goes dead.

  Squawk on return is standard procedure when dealing with Earth based military installations. If the pilot of any craft does not give the proper codes when returning to or approaching a base, the 550 millimeter auto-cannons placed around the Station would go active. These bad boys are the most feared armor Killers out there and as any pilot would tell you, respecting them is always a healthy decision to make.

  “Alpha…” my Com flashes again. It’s Pitbull on our secure channel “…Keds Roving patrols on scan, seven clicks south.”

  “Okay Bull, mark ‘em…” They would show up on my scanners at three kilometers but Bull’s MAV is equipped with heavy sensors and detectors that enable him to see a lot further than any of us. He is our very early warning system and because he has traded most of his heavy weapons for extra eyes and ears, we keep him well protected. “…do we cross paths?”

  “I’ve marked ‘em but they’re not gonna cross us…they’re bugging south…”

  “Okay maintain course…going dark in two.”

  According to my Heads-Up-Display, it is 16:55 Kedenian time, which means that in two minutes, this Solar System’s dimming sun would end Keden’s ten hour daylight time. By the looks of it, tonight is going to be a bit clearer than usual and unless our readings are wrong, there won’t be another sand storm for at least two days.

  “Okay fellas, going dark.” I throttle down, bring my engine to hover, and descend until the thud of machine meeting ground, shakes the cockpit. As my MAV’s Automatic Balancing System keeps me from toppling over, the rest of my team falls in beside me. Mentally, I hit the digital key on my visor and watch as we all become rippling reflections of our surroundings.

  When we go dark, our stealth capabilities truly come to life. Reflective Regeneration Technology allows our MAVs to blend in to our surroundings while Bull’s jamming equipment keeps us off radar and other sensor systems. I half-consciously check the Neural in the lower right corner of my screen. It is an indicator that monitors the team’s movement, locations and life forces individually. We all feel it, taste it, hear it and are digitally connected to what is called The Neural Link. I can feel the life of the men under my command…a sensation that is often strange and borders on invasive but it becomes natural over time.

  “Dogs you’re all a go…” I wait for my check

  “Alpha you’re good”

  Terrier confirms that my camouflage has engaged.

  “Okay let’s make this as clean as possible…” I turn my head toward Pitbull and the outline of his cloaked MAV shows up on my visor; all its info and stats readily available at my command “…Bull, you know what to do. Hound, you’re on guard duty tonight.”

  “Roger that Alpha.”

  Dachshund’s German accent is still very strong, even after all these years away from home. His job on this run is to guard Pitbull as he scans and jams our enemies. His position is one that’s close enough to Bull to provide protection but near enough to us to come in guns blazing if needed. He is the right man for the job, as he has proven so often before.

  **********

  I approach the digital lines that divide Earthfront and Kedenian law. There is a feeling of satisfaction in our defiance as my MAV crosses it. The Dune Desert is behind me, all of its massive sand dunes in our wake; I give the signal and we come to a stop.

  We are standing on the edge of a small cliff. The drop is two hundred and eighty six feet according to my reading and spreads out as far as the eye could see; one broad, flat, dirt and rock landscape. The view is captivating. Ten miles into the distance, a city sprawls like a massive manmade mountain, made of buildings and endless lights; wide and low on each end and rising near the center. Above it, one of this planet’s two spaceports shines like a large star in the brown sky and every so often, shuttles, like little fireflies, travel to and from
it.

  I look at the drop-off in front of us; this could be a problem “Terri…I thought you said this was the best route?”

  “It is Alpha. It’s the most direct...”

  I turn my attention toward the expanse of land beyond our position “Bull…you in position?”

  There’s a flicker of static before I hear him “Dug in and watching, over.”

  “Hound..?”

  “All set sir…”

  “Okay boys, on go and fly.”

  I do a split second systems check “Ready…” we move closer to the edge “…set…” I push the accelerator and the gears in my MAV whine “…go!”

  The three of us take a two-step run, and jumping from the cliff, we free fall with our thrusters cold. My head swims in the sensation of the fall and we kill the stealth; we’ll show up on every radar system within a hundred miles. My altimeter counts down in a frenzy of numbers and now, with a hundred feet to go…

  “…fly!”

  I fire my engines full blast; every heat detector in the vicinity would see us, but this slows the fall tremendously and I stiffen as the full power of the Sol Combustion engine jolts me into a million shudders. My rate of descent goes from fifty two feet per second to nine feet per second and then I shut the thrusters down, go engines cold again and brace for impact. The titanium legs of my MAV slam into the ground and the hydraulics in them do what they were designed to do. Then we immediately reactivate our camouflage.