© 2024 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

This story was written for the 2024 Geek Pride Event. My previous Geek Pride entries are The Gate, an Anime Fanfiction, and Enchantress, an homage to Sir Terry Pratchett and his marvelous discworld.

This time I'm sharing my love of Classic Science Fiction. You know the stuff, not the Star Wars or Star Trek fairy tales, but science fiction, with genuine science built in. It's a space opera written in the form of those great science fiction stories we got in pulp magazines and radio dramas in the 40s and 50s. This is the stuff I grew up on. I suppose this would be called retro-future fiction. This is the second story in a series of three stories, the first being Captain Scarlett Saves Mars!

Captain Scarlett vs The Scrapper

Dirty Pool

Danger at the Speed of Stationary

SS Garriott, June 1, 2161

High planetary orbit over Saturn

The "scooter," an open style space truck with four spacemen in full environment suits and the two zero G forklifts, had returned to the parking bay of the SS Garriott, a Livyatan class freighter like the SS Peake, and like the Peake it was named for a friend of Alan Scarlett that was murdered by Eastern Bloc thugs in captivity after the Battle of Venus Prime.

This day was a red letter day. The men and women of Scarlett Water Systems were officially two weeks ahead of their schedule on the Luna Hydration project. The last N-52 engine was installed on Saturn CXCVIII (Saturn 198), known to Scarlett Water Systems as Big Berserker 03, and the wiring was half done on the eight engines installed on Saturn CLXXXIV (Saturn 184, Big Berserker 02). There is still more work to be done, but the hard parts were over.

Big Berserker 02 and 03 were two moonlets of solid ice, a cubic kilometer in size and if their calculations are correct, in about a month they will fire the engines they installed on each moonlet and shove them out of orbit. Why not? Big Berserker 01 was three times more massive, and it's already laying on the surface of Mars.

Carl White, the chief field engineer, and his assistant Scott Anders were excited about this one. Two ice moonlets, about a cubic kilometer in size were outfitted with eight N-52 engines on each moonlet, and in about a month, those engines were going to fire up and the little moons were going to move out of Saturn's orbit and eventually enter Earth's orbit at Lagrange point 4 and Lagrange point 5, on either side of the moon. The ice there will be used for colonies, orbital stations, and provide reaction mass for deep space exploration.

And there was more planned for the future. The chief engineer for Scarlett Water Systems was Roy Bridges. He was the man who designed the 'ice ships,' was back on Earth at their company headquarters, working on a new plan to move an even bigger ice moon to Mars to fill the Jezero crater to the brim. That would provide Mars with water for centuries. He was also working on a covert program to move a small ice moonlet to the Sol/Earth Lagrange point 3 on the opposite side of the sun from Earth. There's only a few people who know about that one, and it may be the project that finally gets Alan Scarlett back into space.

At dinner that evening, the mood was jovial among the crew. The SS Garriott was rotating on its axis, providing 0.5 g of gravity for their celebration dinner, and to map several other moonlets which Mr. Scarlett may want to gather for future water projects. The minute they landed Saturn CLXXII (Saturn 172, Big Berserker 01) on Mars, they realized that the sky was the limit. They could provide water in the form of ice anywhere in the solar system and charge whatever they had the guts to ask.

Scott Anders turned to Gene Cernan, the primary equipment engineer. Gene could fix anything, which is why Mr. Scarlett keeps him close. At that moment, he was chuckling to himself. "What's so funny Gene?"

"Just a funny thought," said Gene. "Could you imagine the look on the Eastern Bloc and the Western Alliance if we showed up heading straight at earth with two moons and Mr. Scarlett forgot to let them know?" The gang around the dinner table roared with laughter.

"I guaranteed delivery in six months, I didn't guarantee anything about stopping," said Carl White to even more laughter.

Trying to emulate Alan Scarlett's Martian drawl, Scott Anders said, "I have one for this bunch of assholes, and one for that bunch of assholes. Now, who's going to write the biggest check?"

That didn't draw as much laughter. In fact, it was a wet blanket. The owner of Scarlett Water Systems absolutely despised the Eastern Bloc and would not shed a tear if they were slaughtered in a firestorm. They took so much from him, put him through a living hell, and killed all his friends. He wouldn't blink if he found the button to press that would slaughter the Eastern Bloc. He really had no love for the Western Alliance, either. They stood back and let the eastern bloc butcher his friends and torture him. And their involvement in the politics of his beloved Mars angers him to no end.

"He's going to be President of Mars," said an engine specialist. "Mark my words."

"He can't be president of Mars," said a co-worker. "He lives on earth."

"His Uncle Ray Clark is president of Mars, and he spends half the year on earth himself," said one of the fliers assigned to Fighter Escort.

"That's where the Joint Committee on Homeland Authority is," said Gene Cernan. "You're right though, the minute Alan sets foot on Mars they're going to elect him against his will. You watch. It's going to happen." All the men and women in the room were told to address Alan Scarlett as Alan. Gene Cernan has worked with Alan for over a decade and he was the only one who felt comfortable doing it.

"Well," said Carl White with a sigh. It was Carl White's brilliant mind, along with Roy Bridges, that made this silly idea work in the first place. "Let's just hope we can slide these two little moons into their Lagrange Points with no problem and we can all go home very, very, Very rich."

Scott Anders raised his glass. "I'll drink to that." The entire table joined him in a toast to their success.

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Mars, June 4, 2161

Perseverance City

Winston Scarver was what a past political failure would call "A real bad dude." He was the embodiment of crime. There wasn't something he didn't commit on earth. Murder, theft, kidnapping. It was all in a day's work to Winston Scarver. He was deported from earth and sentenced to work in a mine in the asteroid belt. That lasted until the day that Winston Scarver disappeared, and three guards were found floating naked outside of the barracks. Their frozen corpses told the complete story.

He stowed away on a freighter headed for the Deimos Steel Plant in orbit around Mars and was next seen in Perseverance, the capital city of Mars. There he found Dr. Franco Aldini. Franco was a professor at the Martian Institute of Technology until he started talking about armies of robots that were being built on the "dark side of Mars" and were going to take over earth. He was hysterical about it and in the end the University decided that Franco needed rest. Franco was given a full pension six years earlier than he normally would have received, and he disappeared.

Not long later, Winston discovered what Franco Aldini was working on and went to visit him. "I hear you have the perfect weapon."

"It could be used as a weapon, si."

"I'm willing to invest if it's a worthwhile invention," said Winston with his Million Dollar Grin. That grin has opened doors for Winston, and it's closed morgue drawers on others.

Franco led Winston to a room where a pool table and a complicated device waited. The professor walked around the billiards table, explaining relative motion and speed differentials. All of it was lost on Winston Scarver, who only understood blunt weapons and sharp blades. Standing at one end of the table was a two foot by two-foot piece of steel that was three inches thick. On the steel plate hung a paper target like you would see at any shooting range. At the other end of the table was a device that looked like a dental x-ray machine. The machine pointed down at the center of the table. "This is a weapon?" asked Scarver.

Dr. Franco Aldini nodded. "Very much so." The old man walked slowly to the device and patted it. "The device generates a field where items that enter the field come to an immediate halt."

"Like a bullet, if that was fired into the field would it come to a halt?" asked Scarver.

"Absolutely."

"It stops..." Scarver shook his shaggy head. "Just how the fuck is that a weapon?"

"Watch." Aldini slowly turned on his machine and it illuminated a circular spot in the middle of the pool table. He placed the cue ball on the table where he had made a chalk mark, and took a stick, then bent over and carefully tapped the cue ball and sent it slowly towards the illuminated field.

"Doc," snarled Scarver, "if this is some kind of scam you're running I'll..."

Just then, the ball entered the illumination field. There was a bark and a roar, and the ball was gone. The plate of steel fell to the floor with a clang and a cue ball size hole opened on the wall. Another cue ball size hole also opened on the exterior wall and air was leaking out with a roar. A repair robot slapped a patch on the hole and went outside to patch the exterior of the laboratory.

"Holy shit!" cried Scarver. He looked at the three-inch-thick steel plate. It had a perfect cue ball sized hole cut through it as did the paper target, which was smoldering. "How fast was that ball moving?"

"It wasn't moving. It was perfectly motionless."

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Mars, June 16, 2161

Lake Jezero

The Scrapper made her living by not existing. Her reputation was a living thing. It moved from the Asteroid Belt where it was born, to Venus Prime, to Mars. Everywhere that Captain Scarlett went, this scrapper followed, poking and prodding her way through the flotsam and jetsam of war that Captain Scarlett and the Strike Force Berserkers left behind. The Scrapper doesn't even exist to those that traded in goods that were gotten through "creative means." The Scrapper worked through front men, a cadre of loyal followers who helped the Scrapper convert the goods that she "found" into cash through a network of receivers and movers. Middlemen who resell The Scrappers finds, do it for a percentage. The Scrapper keeps the best of these men close, because strong fences make good neighbors.

Even the fact that the solar system famous scrapper is a female is not known to anyone, even to the fences. Every now and then a slim young woman would contact a fence and hand him "something daddy found," and would tell the fence, "there's more where that came from." Who would believe that such a skinny little waif could sneak into restricted areas and loot the area of the finest stuff the Earth's Military Industrial Complex could crank out.

The battle between The Holland Company and Zendaya Smelting LTD. was where the legend of the scrapper was born. The battle had raged across the "Top End" of the asteroid belt, from one mining camp to the next, and was eventually brought to heel by the Strike Force Berserkers. Eventually, space was littered with derelict space craft and barges filled with ore. There were tools and test equipment to be resold to fledgling asteroid miners who wanted to start a mining company with good equipment sold at bargain basement prices.

The Scrapper followed Captain Scarlett and his men around the solar system. She provided a valuable service to the spacemen and their families through the solar system. Somebody has to pick up the mess, right?

Not every battle location was gold for her. The Battle of Himalia, a battle for mining rights on Jupiter VI, the largest irregular prograde moon of Jupiter, had the potential to be a huge windfall. Several mining companies battled it out until Captain Scarlett's squadron stopped the fighting. The battle left high end mining equipment scattered across Himalia. Most of it looked like it was in good shape. It didn't work out well for The Scrapper, however. She ended up losing money and time traveling all the way out to Jupiter for a shipload of contaminated tools. The radiation that pours out of Jupiter contaminated everything and she was lucky to get out of there without serious damage to her DNA. She returned in time for several smaller battles around the solar system, including a battle at Lagrange Four in the earth/sun orbit.

Then came the big one, The Battle of Venus Prime. Ships of all shapes and configuration drifted above Venus. So did bodies. She grabbed everything she could from environment suits (empty or full) to fighters! There were several hangar decks full of Eastern Bloc fighters that were catapulted into space when the first bombs hit the vast space station and she towed a dozen away. Floating not too far away were two abandoned destroyers, and a burned out carrier, she wisely avoided them. Good thing too, because they were soon towed off to the Epps Whitson Shipyards for rebuilding and refitting.

The Scrapper made millions off that haul. The cache of side arms she collected alone was worth a fortune. Each dead Venusian she found was armed to the teeth with two pistols, a rifle, and several knives. The Scrapper also found several MA-2A fifty-caliber machine guns floating in space, and belts of space rated fifty-caliber ammo floating free. She wanted to hold on to those. She had ore barges full of items from Venus to fence, enough to last her a lifetime, but a couple of years after Venus Prime she heard of another big score, the Jezero Crater. There were rumors that the Eastern Bloc had built a huge base in the bottom of the Jezero crater on Mars, and Captain Scarlet somehow covered it with ice.

She couldn't resist. Slipping through Martian radar and early warning systems was easy. Mars was a pacifist planet dedicated to scientific research. No wonder why the Eastern Bloc could build an enormous base on Martian soil. They even made up a cover story of pirates building the bases. She set down her tiny freighter, the Fey Gang (Eastern bloc lingo for Scrap), on the outside of the crater and hopped into her "scooter" to investigate.

In the small, open space craft, The Scrapper crested the edge of the crater and gazed out on an ocean of crystals. Chunks of ice the size of footballs filled the crater and glinted in the weak sunlight. She got closer to the crystals and studied them. She knew from what she heard of the mission that these crystals were all ice, frozen water. It was just hard to believe. The Scrapper was born on Luna and spent her life in space, and she always had a hard time believing descriptions of Great Lakes, Seas, and Oceans. To her and many other people born and raised in outer space, water is precious because of its rarity. It's hard for them to picture water in vast amounts.

As the Scrapper swept over the field of ice with an electromagnetic field disruption sensor (metal detector) slung under her scooter, she heard the beeps of metal devices that were buried under the ice, but something in the distance caught her attention. Something that was moving. She scooted to the east end of the crater; the end that faces the area called the Heinlein Plain. There was a medium-sized facility built on the inside of the crater wall. The Scrapper saw that attached to the building was a long, jointed, mechanical arm with an enormous claw at the end. As she neared the facility, she watched the claw lift huge scoops of ice, swing around, and drop them through a chute into the facility. The facility crushed the chunks of ice into fist size pieces then poured them out onto a conveyer belt that would carry the ice to Perseverance where a melting, purification, and bottling plant waited.

She got off the scooter and walked up to the facility and found that it was unsecured. She entered the airlock, and once inside she found that the facility was airtight, but it was cold and noisy. The ice crushing machines industriously crushed the ice and sent it on its way, and the shavings that were left over from the crushing process were bagged and the bags were placed on the conveyer as well. There was going to be no precious water being wasted.

The Scrapper took off her helmet; the atmosphere was oxygen rich but extremely cold. She began poking around in an office, but she wasn't paying attention. She sat behind a desk and was reading some notes scribbled on the desk blotter when an angry voice said, "What are you doing here?"

She looked up and saw that there were two Western Alliance Marines blocking the entrance with their bodies and with their guns. The thief was caught! The Scrapper had been flitting around the solar system for years and she's never been caught. They never came close. She mentally kicked herself as a thousand pre-made excuses streamed through her head. The scrapper winced as she realized her sidearm was still in its holster on her scooter. She tried to select the best excuse, but the best she could come up with was, "Hello boys."

"Ma'am!" they shouted.

She looked up at the Marines. They both snapped to attention and saluted her. "Uh, I was..." she returned the salute sloppily, the way she figured arrogant officers returned a salute.

"Ma'am, it's good to see you again. We got word that if you turn up here, you're supposed to be transported home immediately."

"Home?"

"Yes ma'am. We can get you on a high-speed shuttle to earth immediately."

"Earth?"

"Yes ma'am. The marine insisted.

This was good. These jamokes think they know her, so if she makes a run for it, they probably won't shoot. She won't get far on Mars on foot, however. Then again, she has never been to Earth. "The captain insisted on earth?"

"Yes ma'am. Thundering Waters." Thundering Waters was a favorite honeymoon location for newlyweds, and a popular vacation retreat for the wealthiest Martians. Now a third marine joined them, and he too snapped to attention.

"Sounds cool. Let's go."

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Armstrong Station, June 29, 2161

Lagrange point One, 35,000 miles above Luna

"The Scrapper has been seen again," said Captain Lutz. "We have reports from the 5th Intelligence Corps that The Scrapper was responsible for the Adira Dolenz."

The Adira Dolenz was a class four heavy ore freighter inbound to Deimos Steel Plant in Martian orbit when it was found with a hole in it. A 57mm hole was found on one side of the bridge, and a 57mm exit hole was found on the other. The crew that wasn't killed when the atmosphere was vented into space tried to patch the holes and failed. They eventually climbed into escape pods and were never seen again. That's the official story. The SS Adira Dolenz had a crew of 14, six were found dead on the bridge, and ten of the twenty escape pods were launched. The numbers don't add up.

"Why would we be blaming the murder of fourteen men and women on a trash picker?" asked Admiral Hilmers. "I mean, other than convenience?" Admiral Dolf Hilmers didn't like Captain Lutz in the least. Lutz was smart and good-looking, but he had tunnel vision when it came to resolving issues.

"It fits the scrapper's M.O."

"The scrapper has never killed anyone, he's never shot a hole through the bridge of a ship underway," Admiral Hilmers' voice was controlled but powerful. "The scrapper has never taken a shot at anything, nor has he actually stolen anything. He just picks up debris floating in space. I don't think you understand what M.O. means."

Just then there was a beep and the video screen came on, displaying the Western Alliance Navy Logo on the screen. "Sir, priority transmission from Berserker 04."

"Send it through," said the Admiral. In a moment, the video screen was filled with the deep space tug, the SS Kregal. Deep space tugs are used to pull ore barges and container barges between worlds where the big atmosphere shuttles can take the goods and products to the planet's surface. Kregal was still half connected to the series of barges it was hauling, the big six engine tug was drifting at a crazy angle compared to the barges.

"Berserker 04, this is CINCORBFORCEOuter, tell me what you are looking at." CINCORBFORCEOuter means Commander In Chief, Orbital Forces outer, meaning he commands all Navy forces outside earth's orbit.

"Something actually hit this ship sir," said Commander Jim Dutton, who was filming the investigation. He was out of his F-733 fighter and drifting toward the SS Kregal. "You can see a perfect two-inch hole in the side of the command deck. There's a hole in the other side as well. They didn't have a chance, sir."

"Commander, could that have been caused by a laser?" asked Captain Lutz.

"No sir, there would have been burn marks on the edges of the hole. These holes are clean through and through. What gets me sir is how they got into the barge." The barges are only accessible at each end. The SS Kregal was connected to its barge, blocking entry access. "They cut the couplers on the left side with a torch, not a laser but a torch. I'm guessing oxy acetylene torch."

"Why is that weird, commander," asked Admiral Hilmers.

"Because they punched such a perfect hole through the bridge, then they cut the couplers and cables like a bunch of unexperienced pirates, it doesn't make sense."

"Commander, could this be the scrapper moving up in the world? Did the scrapper get tired of waiting and decided to make something happen?"

"I honestly don't know, sir. Crime investigation isn't part of our job, killing pirates and Eastern Block fighters is."

"Thank you, commander."

After the screen went blank, Captain Lutz said, "What are you going to do?"

In response, Admiral Hilmers tapped a few numbers under his video screen and waited. Soon the pixie-like face of Colonel Pandora Vermillion, Commander of the Strike Force Berserkers, came on the screen. "Pandora, I have a job for your people."

Marine Colonel Pandora Vermillion looked up from her desk and asked, "Anything exciting, sir? To be honest acting as traffic cops is putting the Berserkers to sleep."

"Yes Colonel, this is a big job. Find the Scrapper."

Pandora stared at her video phone. After a full ten seconds of digesting what he said, she replied, "You want the fiercest fighter squadron in the solar system to find a missing street sweeper?"

"Some have reason to believe that The Scrapper is responsible for the Adira Dolenz and the Kregal attacks."

"Who's the damn fool moron that thinks that?"

Admiral Hilmers turned to Captain Lutz. "Captain, it's all yours now. And if for any reason that the 43rd Fighter Squadron fails to answer the call to duty because they're on a wild goose chase, it will be your ass."

"Just give me your solid evidence," said Pandora. "With that I can get to work."

Captain Lutz sputtered and fumed for twenty minutes and every time he brought up an accusation, Pandora replied with, "What is your evidence for that supposition?" After twenty minutes Pandora nodded, smiled and somehow signed off without saying, "Fuck you, ya damn fool."

Being grounded, she was trapped behind her desk, which the Western Alliance Navy was happy for. Captain Alan Scarlett was famous for his failure to spend the time a squadron commander is required to spend with the "administrative arts," and Colonel Pandora Vermillion is now making up for that. At least they allowed her to perform her administrative ballet at Thundering Waters Space Force Base. It would still be an hour before she could call an aide to take her home.

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SS Garriott, July 1, 2161

High Orbit Over Saturn

"Ok, let's go for the record," said Carl White. The SS Garriott positioned itself where it could see the eight huge N-52 engines on Berserker 2 light up when they commanded the launch.

"Scarlett One and Two standing by," said the pilot in the lead F-733 as they watched Berserker 3. The Garriott had eight F-733F Predator fighters to fight off any pirates that wanted to attack the operations. They were scrap F-733D fighters that were reclaimed from the Western Alliance Navy's "bone yard" and brought up to specs for the F model and were owned by Scarlett Water Services.

So far the Eastern Bloc ice miners disguised as pirates remained on the ice moon, Tethys, keeping their activities to monitoring the radio chatter and the Predators sat mostly idle.

"Ok, folks, this is it," said the excited engineer. Carl wasn't nervous. He started working on this plan long before Berserker 1 began its dive into the Martian atmosphere. This plan was both easier and more complex. Easier because they weren't trying to land on a planet, more complex because they were taking two moons at the same time. "Let's go around the room, Reaction intake?"

"Two and three are Go!"

"Throttle response?"

"Both are Go!"

"Navigation?"

"Go and Go!

"Reaction Mass?"

"Both are Go!"

"Structural?"

"Both Go!"

Carl hit the command to execute and waited.

"We have all eight lit on Berserker 2," called the captain of the Garriott.

"Scarlett one to Berserker base, all eight are lit on Berserker 3." Chuck Veach, pilot of Scarlett One, watched as the accumulation of trash that was piled up behind Berserker 3 disappeared in a puff of flame. It was a Scarlett tradition to burn something behind a moon when you ease it out of orbit.

"Scarlett Control, this is Scarlett Engineering we are go for throttle up."

"Throttle up to seventy five percent," said Scarlett Control.

Scarlett one and two watched in awe as the small moon shuddered. The little moonlet rolled a little bit, then Chuck Veach noticed as it began blocking out a star that he had his eye on. "Scarlett Control, Scarlett one, Berserker three is moving!"

"Scarlett Control, Garriott bridge, Berserker two is moving."

"Yeee haw!" someone cried on the open channel. "Next stop, the moon!"

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Earth, August 2, 2161

Thundering Water Space Force Base

The NSS Overmeyer landed at Thundering Waters SFB after a relaxing haul from Mars to Earth. There were several Martian VIPs aboard and it was actually a fun trip, and The Scrapper simply kept her mouth closed, her ears opened and learned enough to be able to blackmail half of Mars' parliament. She stepped off the shuttle and suddenly felt something; it felt like it was artificially hot, and she began sweating. "What is with this climate?"

"It's a hot day and the humidity is up, ma'am," said one of the three marines who escorted her on the entire flight. The Marine sergeant was kind of cute and came very close to becoming very lucky, but he kept his distance from her.

After being led past customs, she was led to local transportation, and they hopped into a Marine transport. Huge tires, open sides that can be covered with armor, and no ascetics whatsoever. As soon as they got out of the base's main gate, the driver, a young corporal, said, "Who wants to see the falls?"

Thinking that 'the falls' was a comic routine or a circus act, The Scrapper said, "I do," along with the other two marines. And with that, they were off... the wings unfolded, and the Marine ALS/APC (Air Land Sea Armored Personnel Carrier) began clawing for altitude and was soon passing over a wooded area that the driver said was a city before the war.

The Scrapper gasped when they shot out over a wide, deep, fast-running river. The Scrapper was in shock at seeing all the water in the Niagara River. She was incapable of dreaming about how much water there was. Every minute, more water rushed past her than was available on all of Mars. And soon they were over the falls. "A million gallons of water every second go over the falls," said the marine driver.

"A million?" gasped The Scrapper.

"Well... eight hundred thousand gallons," said the driver as he flew through the mist that was rising over the falls. The cool moist air filled the marine vehicle, and The Scrapper found that her skin was covered with moisture, more moisture than a Martian normally uses to bathe with.

The seat restraints snapped The Scrapper back into her seat and the APC dove to the surface of the Niagara River and raced along just above the surface of the rapids. Canyon walls on either side of them flashed past. Remains of ancient power plants crumbled, and portions of old bridges extended over the canyon. "This part of the area got hit pretty hard during the war," said the corporal who was driving.

"War?" asked The Scrapper.

"World War Four? It was in all the papers." She deserved that. The seventy-fifth anniversary of the destruction of the Widdershins Monarchy and their vassal states was just last year, where they hung King Newton in effigy to crown the ceremony. While the war didn't break out in the fledgling colonies on Mars and Luna, it cut off the flow of supplies and hundreds starved to death. "Let's take the colonel home," said the Marine Sergeant, sitting next to The Scrapper.

Colonel?

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Earth, August 2, 2161

Thundering Water SFB, Deep Space Monitoring Station 09

"There it is again," said the Marine Gunnery Sergeant at the desk of Deep Space Monitoring Station Nine.

"The same signature?" asked the duty officer. Thundering Waters Space Force Base was primarily a deep space monitoring station, and DSMS 9 was at the heart of the action. Every now and then, the streak of something burning brilliantly in space flared up, and there was no explanation for it. Things burn up in space all the time, but these recent flares were different. They were all in the same area and were all parallel to each other, but that wasn't the weirdest part.

"Spectro-chemical analysis shows that it was steel, Martian steel from the Deimos foundry, just like the others."

"Location?" asked the Lieutenant as he typed furiously.

"Close to the previous flares. Kuiper Belt at about fifteen degrees past TDC." Kuiper Belt TDC (Top Dead Center) was the reference point for navigating the Kuiper Belt, a belt of dust and rock that surrounds the solar system. TDC is in an imaginary direct line between the sun and Cereus.

"Who would be burning Martian steel way out there?"

"Sir," said Marine Gunnery Sergeant Dunlap, "I think I found something."

"What do you have Marcy?"

"Sir, I tracked trajectory back and Flare Anomaly 03 traces right back to the wreck of the Adira Dolenz on the estimated day of the wreck."

"Are you saying that someone shot the Adira Dolenz from way out there?"

"No sir," said the young spaceman. She spun around in her wheelchair and said, "my guess would be an ultra-high-speed projectile that burned up out there."

"Do you realize how that sounds marine?"

Marcy frowned and considered her theory. "It's mad sir." She rubbed her itching nose with a prosthetic hand. Marcy was a survivor of the NSS Grissom that was nearly destroyed in the Battle of Venus Prime.

"Yes, it is. Follow up on that and keep me updated. I'll let your old boss know we might have something."

Marcy chuckled and turned back to her console. "He won't give a fuck, he's retired."

"The captain may invite you over for barbecue," said the lieutenant as he returned to his typing.

"He does that anyhow," she chuckled, and she started studying FA5 more carefully. Marcy was lucky. She was found nearly frozen to death in a sealed closet on the NSS Grissom, a spacecraft carrier that was attacked by the Eastern Bloc during the Battle of Venus Prime. When she was found, Marcy was raced back to Earth for proper hospitalization. When she was released from the hospital, she was missing three limbs, yet the VA and the Western Alliance's military found her a position she could fulfill. They placed her in the Space Force instead of kicking her to the curb, which the military had done to their broken veterans for ages. Just finding her a desk job like this, watching monitors, saved Gunny Dunlop and thousands of other crippled veterans, many of whom would commit suicide without a sense of belonging.

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Earth, August 2, 2161

Thundering Waters "NT Village"

"Let's go! Let's go swimming!" Alan Scarlett called from the bottom of the staircase. "Anna! Wally! Come on!" Three-year-old Anna, a tiny sprite with flowing red locks and freckles, came down the stairs, followed by her year and a half-old dark-haired brother Wally who used his butt as much as his feet coming down the stairs. In his arms, Alan carried six-month-old Gerry. Both Anna and Gerry were named after spacemen that were friends of his parents but were killed in the battle of Venus Prime.

Alan hoped and prayed that his children would never have to experience something as horrible as the Battle of Venus Prime. Wally was joyfully named after his grandfather Admiral Walter Schirra, the man who introduced then reunited his parents. "Without Wally there'd be no Little Wally," Alan would say.

The doorbell rang, and Alan turned to answer it. "Go get your floaties!" he called to the children as they raced through the house with their golden retriever named Buddy. Buddy was Alan's service dog, but when not wearing his service vest, he was the children's best friend. Alan pulled the front door open and there was The Scrapper, flanked by two marines with a third marine behind her. He gave The Scrapper a quick kiss, and she was too shocked to do anything about it. NOBODY steals kisses from The Scrapper! "I like what you did with your hair," he said as he led them into the house.

Somehow The Scrapper ended up with a small bundle in her arms and, looking down, she saw the bundle looking up at her. "He's hungry but he won't eat, he wants mommy," said Alan. He made a gesture which she didn't understand, then he handed her a baby bottle. For the first time in her life the scrapper put a bottle in a baby's mouth, and he started nursing hungrily.

While The Scrapper watched the baby eat with fascination, Alan turned to the Marines, who were staring at him in awe. Tall, slender, ranging on skinny, Alan had dark black hair, a tight black beard, square jaw and his right eye was covered with an eye patch. This was Captain Scarlett, the survivor of Venus Prime, savior of Mars, and the creator of the Fighting 43rd, the Strike Force Berserkers. The Berserkers were the model that other naval fighter squadrons aspired to become. Constantly saddled with aging equipment, the Berserkers flew unconventionally and made those old wrecks the fear of their enemies. Completely wiped out at the Battle of Venus Prime, the Strike Force Berserkers rose from the ashes out among Saturn's rings with the magic of worn out and stolen equipment manned by fliers from everything but fighters.

"Youse guys coming in or you just going to stand there and stare."

"Uh, sorry sir," said Alex, the ranking Marine. "Just awaiting further instruction, I guess."

Alan nodded and said, "I'm retired Marine, it's Alan, not sir. Over there is a changing room with a stack of swimming trunks, feel free to pull one on, grab a towel and meet me at the pool." As the Marines looked at each other, Alan said, "No beer in uniform, and you need a suit to get in the pool."

"Pool? Yes sir!" They were changed in record time and Alan said to his daughter, "Anna, show the guys where the pool is."

"Come on," she said, and the tiny girl led the three young men into the back of the house. The Scrapper didn't hear their astonished cries as she looked at the tiny boy in her arms. His green eyes sought hers out as he suckled at the bottle and for a moment she felt a connection she never thought possible, a connection with another human being that went beyond midnight wrestling in some back quadrant space station hook-up. The little boy smiled around the bottle's nipple at her and cooed.

"How's he doing?"

"He's uh... fine. Look, you have to take him."

Alan looked at The Scrapper. Her tight, athletic body was poorly hidden by the clothing she was wearing, her bright crimson hair was cut in a pixie cut and her delicate nose was decorated with freckles. Alan shook his head and thought, 'so damn close.' For a moment, he thought she was his. Anna's squeals from the pool took his attention. "Let me see to our guests first," said Alan. "He'll be fine. He likes you."

As Alan led The Scrapper to the patio, the sounds of the young marines reached her ears. They were having a good time in the water. Then she saw the pool, a beautiful free form 'canal' filled with pure, crystal clear water, glistening in the hot afternoon sunlight. A waterfall splashed down a roughhewn granite wall into the pool and a marine had climbed to the top of the wall next to the pool and jumped in. On the other side of the pool was a smaller splash pool where the children played in more water than she has seen in the past year. The Scrapper almost dropped the child at the wonder of it.

Little Wally came running from his splash pool with an inflatable porpoise that he was so proud of. He ran up to The Scrapper to show her his prized possession. Just as Little Wally held it up proudly, an exact copy of The Scrapper stepped onto the patio. "Hi baby," the scrapper copy said. Confused, Wally looked from the Scrapper to his mother and burst into huge tears of terror and confusion. Huge heart-breaking sobs that echoed in Alan's soul and ripped his heart in two...

"Commander! Commander Scarlett!"

Alan opened his eyes. Research Station Sigma Kai was under attack by Eastern Bloc fighters, the big, barrel shaped "Babylon style" station had no defensive weapons to fight off the bastards. Their task force arrived soon after the distress calls were received. Their carrier NSS Fettman was still running at two G acceleration when the Strike Force Berserkers launched without clearance from the Space Boss. "Bravo flight, take the right, Charlie flight, take the left. Delta Flight, cover Berserker Shield. Alpha flight on me!" said Commander Alan Scarlett and the F-724 single-seat fighters leaped from the NSS Fettman, and the Strike Force Berserkers tore into battle, their first skirmish since being formed under a young Navy Commander. He trained them. He designed their tactics. He taught them how to make their outdated fighters do things they were never designed for.

Until the "Mad Martian" was given an entirely new squadron, fights in outer space tried to emulate atmospheric aircraft, swooping and diving, trying to get on each other's tail. "You are not birds of prey," said Alan confidently. "You are flying artillery. When you fly past an enemy, you turn your ship and keep your guns trained on him the entire time. Let your wingman watch where you are going, you take out the target. Take advantage of everything and shoot him in the back. Learn how to lead your shots. Let your enemy maneuver, maneuvering will only bring them into your sights. You can turn in all directions when traveling, so the enemy is never behind you."

There's been far better pep talks, but until 2148, none have been more effective in outer space combat.

The Berserkers charged into the fray, not trying to steer or change course, each fighter was assigned a target by the flight coordinator, call sign Berserker Shield, running the show in a huge old FB-719 fighter bomber converted to do nothing but observe the fight from a distance. Berserker Shield was surrounded by delta flight who was ready to vaporize anyone that got close. The Berserkers plunged into the crowd of Eastern Block "Flagstaff" fighters nicknamed "Forklift" by the Western Alliance Navy fliers because of their odd antenna that projected from under the nose.

Half the Flagstaffs were hit by precision laser fire from the Berserkers even before the Berserkers appeared on their radar screens. Scarlett's fighters plunged through the Eastern Bloc formations and spun one hundred eighty degrees and continued to fire as they shot past the faster and more capable Flagstaffs. Of the two dozen fighters that attacked Research Station Sigma Kai, sixteen were floating dead in space, and the remaining eight were running. The Berserkers took on an enemy with a two to one advantage and the Forty-Third didn't suffer a single casualty. They were now the Fighting Forty Third.

Bravo flight chased the eight remaining eastern bloc ships as far away as they dared while Alan and Alpha flight stopped in tight formation at the crippled station's main airlock. "Get me a support ship over here fast, this thing is falling apart," called Alan into the open radio circuit.

"NSS Marshburn will be on scene in one five mike," replied Berserker Shield. The Marshburn was a clunky old logistics freighter, but it was fully pressurized and could carry hundreds of people in the cargo bay if needed.

"Roger, thanks Berserker Shield. Berserkers One and Two are entering Sigma Kai to coordinate evacuation."

<>

Aboard Armstrong Station, a huge "wagon wheel" station in orbit at Lagrange Point One, 35,000 miles from the moon, newlywed Marine Major Pandora Vermillion listened on the radio as her Navy "fighter jock" husband exited the relative safety of his F-724 "Slingshot" fighter and entered the shot up research station. She and he were both in the business of death. Why was she shaking so hard? Her father, Admiral Schirra, handed her a cup of coffee and from the aroma she could tell it was fortified with bootleg Irish whisky flown up from Earth.

<>

Alan and his wingman Anna Fisher moved through the station, telling everyone they met to get an environment suit on, and move to the main airlock. Evacuation was on the way. "I can't evacuate," a gray bearded professor claimed. "I'm the head administrator, I have to remain."

"Sir, I have my orders and you have yours, so I'm not going to argue with you." The young naval officer smiled and opened his helmet visor. "But since I just saved your ass, you owe me one. Humor me and get that ass I saved on the Marshburn when it gets here. We'll help you rebuild this place later."

The old professor thought for a moment and said, "Only because you ask so eloquently, Commander."

As Alan and Anna moved through the station, the Eastern Bloc returned and took some shots at the station filled with civilians. Several of the injured ships floating in space were "playing possum" and fired on the station too, not at the fighters defending it. Lt. Commander Bruce McCandless in Berserker three took the lead in slaughtering every eastern bloc ship in the area.

Even though the Berserkers fought the eastern bloc off, the station was critically damaged. Now came the hard part, evacuating the survivors. Alan and Anna searched gallery after gallery, finding both survivors and corpses. The corpses of the children were the worst. As he moved through the station, a generator suddenly exploded, slamming Alan into another wall, and now he could hear the heart wrenching screams of a child in terror.

Alan pushed himself through the companionways trying to find the source of the screaming, then suddenly an LPA alarm (Low Pressure Atmosphere) sounded throughout the station, automatically closing his helmet faceplate. But closing the face plate didn't stop the sound of the child's screaming. The sound of the little guy's terror stabbed at Alan's heart. "I'm coming little guy! I'll save you! Just wait!"

Looking for the terrified little guy, Alan charged into the next station quadrant, leaving his wingman Anna behind. Then came the silent rending of a bulkhead giving way, launching Commander Scarlett and a dozen survivors out into space. He was catapulted out among the men, women, and children that had waited for him. They had trusted him. In his environment suit, he watched them die in agony.

"Berserker One was spaced!" shrieked Anna from behind a pressure door that slammed closed between her and Alan. "Get a fucking rescue ship over here!" The cry "Berserker One was spaced!" was repeated by Berserker Shield and rebroadcast across the military network.

<>

On Armstrong Station, a cup of coffee fell from the numbed fingers of Major Vermillion. She dropped to her knees, trembling uncontrollably, unable to believe that she was going to lose her husband after being married for only three months. She was a Marine! They expect this! That didn't stop her heart from shattering. Only in her father's arms could she find comfort.

<>

The moment that the Berserkers launched without clearance from the Space Boss, the NSS Fettman launched their Air-Sea-Space rescue units who were ready when the call that Berserker One was spaced went out. They were unsure if the Eastern Bloc was driven away or not, but that didn't enter their mind. One of their brothers has ten minutes left to live, and they were eight minutes away.

Alan floated helplessly among the corpses of Research Station Sigma Kai, and he saw their terror-filled eyes frozen solid... accusing him... why were you so slow? Why didn't you save me? The child's terror filled cries continued to fill his ears. "I got you little guy... it's ok, I got you little guy." He was inside a station, so he didn't have a propulsion pack or extended oxygen. The pilot's environment suit in space has ten minutes of oxygen tops, and he heard the snake-like hiss of suit leaks. Berserker One floated helplessly among the corpses, clutching a terrified little boy whose screams of fright ripped his heart to pieces.

"Berserker Shield, this is Rescue Four, I got him, I got Berserker One," said a Space Force Sergeant as he clutched Alan Scarlett. The rescue NCO checked Alan's suit stats and his medical stats, then announced, "He's down to zero oh 2, but I have him on a survival pack and he's breathing ok, we're pulling him aboard Rescue One." Rescue One was a Convair Hawker U-546, a marvel of spacecraft construction. It was just as agile in space as it was in atmosphere and could operate in both environments easily. The Coast Guard used them on Earth and the Space Force used them everywhere else.

"How are his stats, Rescue Four?" asked Berserker Lead. Lieutenant Gerry Carr asked only because he knew that the prettiest redheaded bride he ever had the pleasure of dancing with was listening to every word of this operation.

"He's fine, pulse elevated 135, blood oxygen level is 95 and rising, blood pressure elevated 140 over 90, his suit has a couple small leaks, but pressure is holding, we got here before his O2 gave out." What the rescuer didn't mention was that it was hard to read the information. Alan was clutching the frozen corpse of a small boy to his chest, covering the suit's data panel, and he wouldn't let go.

"Alan... Alan... Wally is ok. He just got excited and confused. He's over tired and didn't know he had an aunt. Let him go honey, he's ok." Pandora knelt next to her husband who was clutching little Wally to his chest and whispering "I got ya" over and over. She eased Wally out of his arms and kissed a shuddering Alan. "Come back to me, it's all over," she whispered as Wally ran off.

"I'm here," muttered Alan. "I'm ok."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he muttered. His head was spinning and throbbing, his guts were knotted up into a ball, and his hands shook violently. "Totally fine, couldn't be better." When she gave him that disbelieving look that he learned to recognize, he came clean. "The Sigma Kai rescue... it's been a while since that shit show haunted me." He nodded his spinning head toward The Scrapper. "So that's your sister Esmie?"

"Her name is Eris, and yes, that's her."

"Damn," muttered Alan. He knew for years that Pandora had an identical twin sister. He never realized how identical she was. For his part, little Wally was still confused, but he now noticed that there were differences between the two mommies. HIS mommy had long red hair, the other mommy had cut her red hair short. He walked up to Eris and gave her a swat on her thigh.

"Ow! Ya little shit, I'm your Aunt."

Wally walked away, happy that he sorted out that problem.

The young Marines stopped their play when they noticed a red head full bird colonel kneeling next to the Captain. So, who was the woman they brought with them? "Marines!" said Pandora. "Gather round." They waded to the shallow end of the pool and crouched around like she was the coach calling the play. She made eye contact with each of them, then Pandora said, "this is in your future. It could be you or your teammate. Your life is going to be brutal, physical wounds will leave a scar, and so will mental wounds which may never heal. But IF you act like marines and take care of your teammates this can be minimized. Buddy checks. Constant buddy checks. Not just during action and immediately after, but as long as you wear the title Marine. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Captain Scarlett was in the Sigma Kai Station when the Eastern Bloc masquerading as pirates attacked."

"Damn," whispered Staff Sergeant Rodriguez. "That's hard core."

"His actions saved over eighty men, women, and children, but he couldn't save everyone, and you could see how he was triggered," Pandora continued. "Keep an eye out for these triggers, let your doctors and your buddies know."

"Won't they take me out of a combat unit if I report something like that?" asked PFC Tubbs.

"This is the Marine Corps, we're not that nice. Give me a hand fellows.

"Thank you for using me as a teaching aid," muttered Alan quietly, as the Marines helped him to his feet while Wally toddled back to the splash pool to find another toy to share.

"All life is a learning opportunity," she said as she kissed him.

"Who's the other one?" Staff Sergeant Rodriquez asked. "Who did we escort to earth?"

'The Other One' also known as The Scrapper, was trying to edge to the door when a large hand clapped down on her shoulder. "Stay here Eris," said retired admiral Walter Schirra. "Don't run off with Gerry."

She just realized that she still had the baby in her arms and he was looking up at her with a huge grin. "Yes dad."

Pandora smiled at the marine who asked. "That's my sister, Eris Carmine."

<><><><><>

It was hot and sunny and a humid afternoon, and the Scarlett family had a family picnic. Alan fired up the grill and roasted steaks and baked potatoes, grilled asparagus and roasted corn. The three enlisted marines ate their fill on the patio with the family, then played in the pool again with Anna and little Wally. "The guys back on Mars are never going to believe this," said Marine Staff Sergeant Alex Rodriguez as he sat down and unabashedly dripped water on the ground. That would have been considered criminally wasteful on Mars.

"Not going to believe what Sergeant?" asked Estelle, her crimson hair telling everyone that she was Eris and Pandora's mother.

"All of it," said the marine. "This dinner, Captain Scarlett himself cooking for us, the admiral handing us beers, and all the water!"

"There's more water in your future, Marine," said Alan. "Tomorrow we're going to have a little historical journey and you're going to be part of it. You won't be rejoining your unit, so you've been assigned to the colonel's staff," he said, pointing at Pandora. "She's assigned you to my detail."

"Your detail? But you're retired sir."

"That's what I thought too," grumbled Alan.

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Earth, August 3, 2161

The Erie Canal

A twenty-nine-foot-long pontoon pleasure barge moved out from the Scarlett family dock on a beautiful August morning. The electric motor was silent as it propelled the pontoon boat to the center of the canal, then rotated on its axis and headed west. This was a party barge, its deck was lined with ornate fencing and couches, the forward four feet of deck was a swim platform. It had a folding fabric roof that had fold-down sides to provide privacy and protect from rain. Shade trees hung over the canal, and songbirds chirped and sang. Gentle music from a house on shore played as they drifted past. The warm air was hazy with humidity, and all was peaceful. On the stern was the name of the boat, The Moon Maiden.

As they made their way up the ancient channel, Alan took out a guitar and strummed it, then he began singing a lively tune:

Oh, we built a fishing boat, and we all thought it would float

It was such an ugly bitch cause we sealed it up with pitch

So we christened it with beer, and it sank right off the pier

We were glad when the bad ship went down...

"What the hell did that mean?" laughed Eris.

"Your brother-in-law has studied the history of pilot's drinking songs," Pandora whispered in Eris's ear. "Don't get him started."

Oh, it was bad! Yes, we were glad!

We were glad when the bad ship went down

To the bottom of the...

Angry and sore the Berserkers walked to shore

We were glad when the bad ship when down.

Alan had several verses, most of them very uncomplimentary to the command structure of the Western Alliance Navy, and he had the marines rocking. They joined in on the chorus as Alex continued on with the verses and the marines were soon singing with the gusto of a drunken fighter pilot.

We tried to save the weak as the ship sprang a leak

And the band played up on deck but it didn't save the wreck

So we threw them down below where they would be first to go

We were glad when the bad ship went down.

On the pontoon boat was Alan Scarlett, retired commander of the Strike Force Berserkers, Pandora Vermillion, current commander of the Strike Force Berserkers, Eris Carmine, The Scrapper, and three marines PFC Hector Tubbs, Lance Corporal Ben Smithson, and Staff Sergeant Alex Rodriguez. The kids were still asleep at home with grandma and Admiral grandpa watching. This was a pleasure cruise and business meeting.

"Why do you have different names than your father?" asked Marine Staff Sergeant Alex. "How did you get the name Vermillion and Eris is Carmine? You're twins but when you married you remained Vermillion."

"You were probably born on Earth," said Pandora.

"Close, my folks were 100% Marine Corps. I was born on Camp Schmitt and stayed there until I enlisted and became a Martian Marine." Camp Schmitt is the only 100% Marine Space Station in the solar system. It's in a geosynchronous orbit 22,236 miles above Camp Lejeune. As for Martian Marine, there's no military units on Mars, but they allowed Scarlett Water Services to "host" a unit of Marines for water security. Only Marines from the 15th Marine Corps were allowed on Mars.

During the war of 2085, a Marine Unit landed on Mars and restored order in the colonies. Once the peace treaties were signed, the Marines left, but ever since then the 15th Marine Corps has been known as the Martian Marines and they were the only men and women allowed to wear a uniform on Mars.

"It's traditional for people born on Luna to choose their own last name when they graduate high school," said Pandora. "Eris and I picked names that matched our hair."

"Carmine is red?" asked Hector.

"Blood red," snarled Eris.

"Same with you? Sir?" Ben asked Alan.

"No, Scarlett is a family name. It's reserved for the family of the first settlers of Mars." He then looked a little bleak. "I'm the last remaining Martian named Scarlett."

"Which is why I am going to change my name," said Pandora. She eased her tiny butt into Alan's lap. "On duty I'm still Colonel Vermillion, but off duty I am Pandora Scarlett. I didn't want to see the Scarlett name die out after I found out about Venus prime."

The marines nodded; the Battle of Venus Prime is a legend among the Marine Corps. A carrier battle group was overwhelmed by Eastern Bloc forces, but it cost the Eastern Bloc severely. The Eastern Bloc group masquerading as pirates struck from the massive station, Venus Prime, with over 500 fighters, they were wiped out in the first wave. Unfortunately for the Western Alliance Navy, their fighters were drawn into the lethal range of artillery that was secretly installed on the station. The Navy fighters were slaughtered, but not before taking out the remaining Eastern Bloc fighters.

In the end, the Eastern Bloc captured two destroyers, but the power plants on the destroyers were demolished by the overwhelmed defenders, so in the end the attackers gained two drifting hulks and became prisoners once the Navy arrived and recaptured the destroyers. Assault troops who tried to take the carrier were slaughtered, but so were the carriers' defenders. Very few survivors were found, and of the carrier fighter squadrons, only two people survived, a Chief Petty Officer who was on family leave, and Captain Scarlett.

Of the Eastern Block, very few survived. They were taken prisoner on the hulk of the NSS Grissom. The station, Venus Prime, was destroyed in a Marine bombing raid led by Colonel Vermillion, who did not realize that her husband was being held prisoner in the station. He escaped in an escape pod moments before the bombs hit.

They drifted past several businesses that cater to boat traffic on the canal and stopped at one and tied up and went inside for breakfast. "What's the matter Eris?" asked Alan. "You look overwhelmed." It was the first time he addressed his sister-in-law directly after taking his youngest son out of her arms.

"The water... all the water," she said as she considered her pancakes.

"Here, try this. It matches your hair," said Alex Rodriguez, and he placed a bottle of Boysenberry syrup in front of her.

Eris gave the marine a disparaging look, then poured some of the blood red stuff on her pancakes and tasted it. Not bad.

Breakfast was an icebreaker, Alan got the Marines to talk about their training and the trip out from Mars, and the Marines asked Alan and Pandora to relate their favorite dumb lieutenant stories.

Pandora started with, "On Mars, any body of water is a canal. There's no puddles, ponds, streams or rivers. Any water that you can see that's not in a bottle or drinking utensil is a canal. So this dumb-ass Lieutenant made it all the way to the day we landed on Earth together for the first time, and he walks up to this very canal we are traveling on and he was so overwhelmed that he got dizzy and fell in. Being a Martian he had no concept of depth and when his feet didn't touch bottom he yelled, "The canal is eating me!"

The marines chuckled and Hector said, "What did you do with that guy?"

"I married him," said Pandora and she gave Alan a maple-flavored kiss, causing everyone to laugh.

"Officers remain lieutenants through our service, we just learn to cover it up," said Alan. "I had a Lieutenant Joshua Rafferty that liked to victory roll after a successful mission. After he got his first kill, he was ordered to recover straight into the hangar deck. He eased into the hangar and, just as he was ready to settle the fighter down, he did a standing barrel roll. Later I demanded, 'Why did you do that inside the hangar?' He said, 'If I did it outside, nobody would see it.'"

They all laughed heartily until Eris asked, "What happened to him?"

With a sad sigh, Alan closed his eyes and said, "I saw Joshua and his navigator, Dianna Mwangi get lazed at Venus Prime." He shook his head slightly and said, "They took a five petawatt laser shot right into their cockpit and ceased to exist." He shuddered as he remembered that fine young crew disappearing in a blinding 5,000 trillion watt blast of a laser. "They never felt a thing..."

"They had a planet buster on that station?" asked Hector.

"Several," said Pandora. "Those beasts tore up the power system which killed the life support system on that wheel." The Venus Prime station was the largest "wagon wheel" style station ever built at the time.

"Do you mind if I ask, how do you as a commander deal with loss like that?" Alex Rodriguez was a young staff sergeant, and the weight of leadership was a new burden for him.

"I recite their names every day," said Alan. "When we rechristened the Grissom they asked me to speak, so for seven minutes I stood and repeated the name of every man and woman in the 43rd fighter squadron that was lost at Venus Prime. Except one, Robert Best. It turned out he was an Eastern Bloc operative."

"Oh," said Eris in a tiny voice. Now she knows why dumping a spaceship's septic tank in space was called a "Best shot."

They returned to the Moon Maiden and Corporal Ben Smithson said, "don't you guys normally name your boat after your wife?"

"Dude! I did!"

"Oh," said Ben, finally catching on.

"Dummy," chuckled Alex and he gave his marine a slap on the back of the head. Soon they were underway and soon the waters widened. "Here is where the Erie Canal meets the river. Things like lumber, coal, and grain could be shipped from the great lakes all the way to New York City."

They continued south, going upstream in the only river in the western hemisphere that flows south to north. The sun was warm; the breeze was refreshing, and Alan made the ride upstream interesting by weaving between the small islands and the larger islands like Grand Island and Tonawanda Island. "What a cool name, Tonawanda, where does it come from?" asked Eris.

"It means merging rivers in the Tuscarora language."

"Cool, it's a really big river," said Ben as they passed under the remains of a bridge left standing as a memorial to the survivors of the bombing of 2085.

"This is just part of a river." As the shore on their right fell away, the river became huge. "That was Grand Island on your right and this cool horseshoe island is Strawberry Island." Alan drove around the horseshoe shaped little spit of land that was covered with willows and brush. "The British staged their forces here in 1815 for an assault on Buffalo."

"I thought they crossed the Niagara River to do that," said Ben.

"They did, this is the Niagara River." When Alan said that, Eris nearly jumped off the barge.

"The NIAGARA River??? With the huge falls?"

"Yeah, it's that way a few yards," said Pandora as she pointed downstream. She loved the chance to antagonize her sister.

"It's about fifteen miles away," said Alan softly to his panicking sister-in-law.

<><><><><>

When the land and the cities fell away, Alan brought the barge to a stop and deployed the roof that exposed the solar cells and recharged the batteries. "I'm going swimming," he said, and he peeled off his shirt.

"I'm joining you," said Pandora and she untied her belt, revealing that her dress was merely a wrap and underneath she was wearing a small bikini that she would never wear in front of her children or her parents. Alan dove into the cool, refreshing water while Pandora deployed the swimming ladder and followed him in. As their hosts splashed and played, Eris began panicking. She couldn't see land anywhere; it was all water! The two Martian born Marines, Ben and Hector, were just as bad.

Alex just grinned, "You only live once!" and he tore off his shirt and dove in. He surfaced, struggling and spitting, but Alan had him treading water with just a moment of instruction.

"You're a Marine!" said Pandora. "That means water!"

Ben sat close to Eris and said, "I'm a marine, I'll keep you safe."

"Then stick close," she said and mustering all her courage, she yanked off her t-shirt and shorts and, wearing just her panties, she jumped in the water. "Looka that, another Luna!" called Alex. Pandora swam to her sister's side to help her with treading water.

"I'm goin' in," said Hector. "I can't go back to Mars and not tell them all about this!" Soon Ben and Hector joined them in the water. Ben never really caught on to treading water, but Hector was soon treading water and swimming the side stroke and the breast stroke (without putting his face in the water.)

"I'm going to need more lessons," muttered Ben as he climbed out of the water, only to dive back in. "This sure is a wide river."

"This is Lake Erie," said Alan. "One of the great lakes. Here is where the war started almost a century ago. The Widdershins Separatists set off a forty five megaton blast right over there hoping to wipe out Buffalo and Cleveland with the tsunami and cut off shipping to the interior."

"I take it that it didn't work," said Hector.

"No, it worked. It worked better than those morons expected. The tsunami killed millions of innocent people, which is why the Separatists were hunted down and executed like dogs. It spurred a global war and combat in space."

The tsunami caused by the bomb nearly emptied Lake Erie. It wiped out the cities of Fort Erie, Buffalo, Erie, Ashtabula, Cleveland, Sandusky, Monroe, Toledo, and the city of Detroit, which was wavering toward the Widdershins rebellion. The tsunami raced up the Niagara river and diverged up the Erie Canal, Welland Canal, Tonawanda Creek, and Ellicott creek destroying houses and villages as it went, not to mention south through the Cuyahoga and other rivers and streams. When the tsunami hit Niagara Falls, it was said that the water of Niagara falls shot out nearly half a mile before dropping into the river. Then the falls dried up and didn't regain their thundering water until Lake Erie refilled months later. When the tsunami hit Lake Ontario, it did untold damage to the city of Toronto, destroying the locks of the Welland Canal and the St. Lawrence Seaway.

"The lake was churned up for a year," said Alan. "Then when the lake settled down and it was surveyed to find that the churned up sediment went over the falls, the lake ended up over fifty feet deeper and now it doesn't freeze over as often as it used to, and it allowed transport all winter long."

"I thought lakes were little!" Eris nearly shrieked.

"This is little, compared to Lake Superior."

Eventually everyone was back on the boat, towels worn as kilts and shorts drying on the railing. Colonel Pandora Scarlet suddenly got very serious. This was the reason they were out here, there was no way their conversation could be overheard by listening device. They were protected by radar and the curve of the earth.

If you thought it was entertaining to be chewed out by a female Marine colonel in a bikini, just ask the three Marines she tore into. Somehow, she grew taller than them. "Ok, down to business. You three have two more days here in Wonderful Western New York. Have fun, visit the memorials and the parks, or just hang around the house and drink beer. It's up to you. Captain Scarlet has been recalled to active duty, this time he's working for Space Force, and he'll be resuming command of the Berserkers."

"That's cold," muttered Ben.

"Damn straight," groaned Alan.

"I will be responsible for Water Security on Mars until this crisis is over, and you are my assets," she continued.

Eris had a smug look until Alan asked, "Where were you on July 15th?"

"I was flying to earth trying to get one of these hunks to..."

Alan interrupted her. "And you are known as The Scrapper, am I right?"

She blushed and hunched up her shoulders, her flashing green eyes darted from Marine to Marine. "Yes," she said in a tiny voice. Pandora's eyes grew huge with that revelation.

"We caught The Scrapper?" gasped Ben and Hector.

"Yes, and for your sins, you're working with her," said Alan.

"Working with me? What are you talking about?"

"You're going to help catch whoever it is running around using your reputation and killing people," said Alan.

"I have a reputation?" grinned Eris.

"Yes, and it's deteriorating fast," said Alan. He pointed to the marines. "I need you to collect her gear and set it down, right next to where you caught her."

"You're taking my stuff?"

"No, I'm protecting it. We're going to find you a nice crater near Jezero Lake where you can dump your trash and feed it into an automated foundry we'll build there, the good stuff you can sell off on the market, usual military equipment rules will be enforced."

"Why? What's wrong with me being a scrapper, let alone The Scrapper?" she demanded.

"Somebody isn't waiting for ships to fall apart before scrapping, he's blowing them to pieces and your name got tied to that."

"I... I never..."

"I know, there's been two attacks since you've been in custody..."

"I'm in custody? And does Dad know?"

"Yes, and yes," said Alan.

"I don't want to be in custody."

"Look at it this way, we're going to get your reputation back. If you don't want that I'll just turn you over to the Navy who is searching for you."

<><><><><>

When they got back to the house, they were met at the doc by Anna, Little Wally, Grandma Estelle and Buddy the Wonder Dog. "Where were you?" demanded Anna, little fists on hips.

"We were working," said Dad. The kids hear that a lot. Their parents have strange jobs and sometimes they disappear for weeks, leaving them with Grandma Estelle and Grandpa Wally.

"HEY!" shouted Little Wally, pointing down in the boat.

"Ok," said Alan, and he climbed down onto the barge and lifted Little Wally and Anna down with him. Just as he pulled out, Buddy hopped down and took his spot at the bow, sitting on the couch and peering ahead, tongue out, ready for action. Off they went, purring along the Erie Canal and heading east.

"Be back at five Popeye!" shouted Pandora.

"Aye aye, ma'am."

"Wally isn't very good at saying 'please,'" said Pandora. "And Alan isn't very good at saying 'no.'" She led them across the lawn to their big house, where Wally and Estelle Schirra waited.

"Did you tell them?" asked Big Wally.

"About Mars or the wings?"

"Both."

"Mars yes, wings not yet."

"You knew about Mars, sir?" asked Staff Sergeant Alex Rodrigues while Vice Admiral Walter Schirra served him a beer.

"Of course, I knew, I ordered both."

"You ordered us back to Mars?"

"I'm a flag officer, we only retire so much."

<><><><><>

When Alan and the kids got back to the house they were greeted by three great surprises, a huge pepperoni pizza and a huge bucket of Buffalo Style chicken wings from Tony Anchove's Pizzas, and next to the tiki bar in a wheelchair and a Marine uniform, an old friend, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Dunlap.

"Aunty Marcie!" cried Anna as she raced to hug her parents' friend. Little Wally joined her. Marcy had lost both legs at the knee and the left arm at the elbow to the cold of space as she waited for rescue on the NSS Grissom and for that she was rewarded with a genuine job with Space Force when she was released from the hospital. It wasn't some made up bullshit job. She was really monitoring space security, and she was making a difference.

Soon she had all three Scarlett children on her lap, with little Wally and Anna trying to bury her in kisses. "Come on guys, she's had enough combat experience," called Alan. "Sorry about that gyrene."

"It's always ok, squid. It's time I had someone manhandling me."

They gathered around the picnic table and, for the first time ever, the Martian Marines had a proper slice of pizza pie and a stack of real Buffalo Style chicken wings. "Oh my god this is incredible!" groaned Ben. "I thought New York pizza was supposed to be the best."

"I heard that rumor too," said Pandora, who took to the local cuisine like a fish to water.

"Ok," said Big Wally. "Gunnery sergeant Dunlap is going to brief us commissioned types while you kind folk straighten up. Fair?"

"Fair sir," said Sgt. Alex before his 'kids' could complain.

"Ok, Eris, can you keep an eye on your youngest nephew?"

"No," said Eris, who hasn't set Gerry down since rescuing Marcy.

"His diapers are in the bag hanging from the back of the chair."

They headed into the house and took Marcy down the elevator to the sub-basement that was constructed as a SCIF (Sensitive Classified Information Facility). Once they were in place, Alan locked out the elevator and Marcy started her briefing.

"There was another attack today," said Marcy. "The SS Pennington was nicked by our mysterious shooter. Almost immediately after the shot a streak appeared at fifteen degrees past TDC in the Kuyper belt."

"How long after the Pennington was hit did this streak appear?"

"We don't know, I can't get the ships logs from the Navy.

Alan, being the only navigational trained officer in the room, put on his glasses (over his eye patch) and studied Marcie's data that was on the large screen. He adjusted the view and looked at the streaks from all angles; they were perfectly parallel and on the same orbital plane as the inner planets of the solar system. "Who is holding the ships logs?" Alan asked.

"Captain Lutz and the 5th Intelligence Corps."

"Good god," groaned Admiral Schirra. "What a bunch of political ass kissers and brown nosers."

"Who is officially running this show?" asked Alan as he tried to find a common source point of the streaks. It looked like the source point moves around beyond the orbit of Mars but within the asteroid belt.

"Admiral Dolf Hilmers and Captain Bernie Lutz," said Pandora.

"Lutz? Fuck," Alan groaned. "What a useless gob." He sat down at a computer and typed out a request for access to the log of every ship hit by this device that they were blaming on the scrapper. "If I don't get a positive result from this request I'm initiating an investigation through the NCIS."

"Investigation into what?" asked the Admiral.

"I don't know, I'll make something up. Financial ties to whoever is doing this. Shit like that."

"HA!" shouted Marcy. "I want to be there when the Staff Judge Advocate bends Lutz over his table and butt fucks that horse's ass."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Earth August 7, 2161

Equatorial Atlantic Ocean

After being dropped off by a shuttle from Thundering Waters SFB, Alan, Pandora, Eris and the three marines stood on the deck of the NSS Conrad looking at the big, blocky looking U-700 Lunar Shuttle. They were wearing space environment suits and were carrying helmets, and none were looking happy about this. One by one the travelers crawled in through the Engineers Entrance in the low belly of the ship, climbed the ladder to the upper cockpit where Alan seated them. Marines Tubbs and Smithson sat behind the pilot and co-pilot. Behind them sat Rodriguez and Eris Carmine, and behind them sat Pandora. Once they were settled in, Alan took his place in the Co-pilot's seat and assisted with the pre-start checklists. He hoped that once they broke orbit and were heading for Armstrong Station, a quarter million miles away, he could come back and sit with Pandora.

"Checklist complete, you're ready to go," said the Plane Captain/Flight Engineer Master Chief Bruce Ellis from outside the U-700. He and his assistant had just finished the pre-flight inspection and deemed it flight ready.

"Ok, hop in. I have a VIP co-pilot today, let's make it look good," said the pilot, Commander Dom Russo.

"We are in," called the engineer. "I'm bringing my apprentice for the ride. She's got a boyfriend on Armstrong Station." Actually, she had a husband on Armstrong Station, and they hadn't seen each other in six months.

"No free rides," said Alan Scarlett. "Tell her to leave a quarter by the coffee pot."

"Come on captain, she always wanted to fly with a damn hero. She'll probably ask for your autograph." Sailor Nancy Coats slugged her boss.

"That'll be an extra fifty cents," said Alan.

The Marines were in shock about this whole pre-launch rite, but the light chatter and ribbing between the professional fliers helped break the tension. But as soon as Master Chief Ellis and Spaceman Coats were in their seats, the checklists resumed, and the flight crew was all business again.

Like Eris, the three marines never had to break the gravity well of the earth. Mars, Mercury, and the moon were easy to lift off of compared to the Earth, and no one has tried to launch from Venus for forty years. (Mining Venus for profit is too difficult). They felt their craft, Gray Hound Zero Three, get moved into position and locked in place. "Ok," said Alan over the intercom, "We're going to light up the air breathing engines. Feet flat on the floor, push your helmets into the head rest, and grab your hand grips."

Those that could see out the front window watched the horizon sink below the nose of the ship as the NSS Conrad pitched up at a thirty-five degree angle through the creative use of ballast tanks. The four air breathing booster engines lit up and bellowed. The plane shook and shivered as afterburners lit and the pilot shouted, "HANDS, FEET, HEADS!" suddenly they felt the magnetic clamps tighten up and lock them into place and the faceplates of their helmets slammed shut. Commander Russo thumbed the lock release, and they were magnetically catapulted off the deck of the NSS Conrad.

The big ungainly bird spread its wings and fought for speed and altitude. As the drag on the wings became a hinderance, they folded back, allowing the four shrieking engines to push it faster and faster. Finally, they were climbing nearly straight up and with a bang, the big rocket engine fired, and the four air-breathing engines shut down and closed their intakes.

"What do you think?" asked Commander Russo.

"I'm still breathing, and I'm still inside, so you're doing ok," kidded Captain Scarlett as he flipped open the pre-orbital checklist. At 200 miles up, he had caught up with the switch settings when his helmet's face mask slammed closed and was black.

"Ah SHIT!" screamed Dom Russo.

"What happened?" asked someone in the back.

"I need quiet!" demanded Alan. Captain Scarlett was back to active duty. "Dom, did you get hit?" Alan suspected they got lazed and quickly hit a query for IFF (Information Friend or Foe) from all nearby ships and satellites and captured all responses.

"God damnit, I can't see. We were lazed."

"We're good, I was looking down, I still have an eye. Master Chief! Dom is now on sick leave. Give me all pilots controls and set a course for Camp Schmitt." He watched all his switch indicators switch titles; his panel was now the Pilots control panel.

"There you go, we have to do a full orbit for Schmitt."

"Lay in the course and copy it over to the analog nav system, we may have to use chaff rockets again."

"Again?" asked the confused Master Chief.

"Never mind, that was a different flight." He keyed the radio and called, "Navy Control, Navy Control, this is Greyhound Zero Three and we are declaring an IFE, I repeat In Flight Emergency. We have been lazed and the pilot is blinded. Requesting a one orbit straight in at Camp Schmidt and an ocular surgeon standing by."

"Ah, roger Greyhound Zero Three, this is Navy Control. Nav query shows you have a good course laid in. Continue on course and Camp Schmidt has been advised. Navy Control out."

It was a full agonizing minute when they heard "Greyhound Zero Three, this is Camp Schmitt, the hangar bay is clear for you, surgeon prescribes cold compresses."

"Roger. Greyhound Zero Three standing by."

"Camp Schmitt standing by."

"I need a compress, who has access to a med kit?" asked Alan. Finally Ben handed him a package of gauze. "That's a Kotex!"

"He's navy," said Pandora. "He'll be proud to wear it."

Alan tried to hold back the laughter as he soaked the gauze with water from a drinking bottle. "Here, hold this on your eyes."

"Is it really a Kotex?" asked Dom as he placed the moist bandage on his burning eyes.

"Of course, only the best for our boys in blue."

Dom could tell by touch that it was just gauze, but he went along with their kidding even though his heart was shattered. He knew that this was his last flight. "Yeah, this helps, thanks girls."

"Passing over star base Dendam," called Master Chief Ellis. He studied his monitors then called out, "they painted us." Dendam was the top spaceport for the Eastern Bloc and they just hit the U-700 with radar.

"Keep an eye on them, chief..."

"We got birds in the air. I see one... no, there's two SSM-127 missiles rising, time to impact three minutes."

"Just continue on course," said Alan as the main booster engine kicked back in and started lifting them to Camp Schmitt's altitude.

"Time to impact still three minutes... we're out pacing them sir!"

"Keep an eye on them, we'll be at altitude soon enough.

"What's going on?" asked Eris. She sounded horribly nervous.

"Relax, Alan is flying," said Pandora. "He's got plenty of hours on this ship..." Actually, all of his hours on the U-700 were as passenger.

"SSM-127 missiles have dropped off and are falling," said Master Chief Ellis. "We just cost the Eastern Bloc twenty million bucks!"

"What does that mean?" asked Eris.

"That means the surface to space missiles they shot at us ran out of gas." Pandora looked up and saw that Sergeant Rodriguez and Eris were holding hands across the aisle.

"Greyhound Zero Three this is Camp Schmitt, you are clear for straight in on hanger deck one. Medical personnel are standing by. Seal up you'll be doing a zero atmosphere evacuation."

"Greyhound Zero three copy." 'Now all we have to do is stick the landing,' thought Alan, "Ok, everyone, gloves and helmets on and locked, we're going to vent the atmosphere." He saw the huge wagon wheel station gleaming in the sunlight ahead of him and thought how it must pain the Marines that they can't paint it camouflage green.

Pandora leaned forward and helped her sister get the military style gloves back on and insured her helmet was locked, then turned to help Alex. She then went forward and checked on Ben and Hector. Neither one of them ever tried to open their masks.

"Ok we're good back here," she said as she sat down again.

"Ok, Master Chief, vent the cabin." He worked the tricky alignment with the hangar deck, allowing flight control to match the station rotation. A series of lights above and below the huge hangar door guided him in. "Master Chief, please extend the landing gear, I can't reach the lever."

"Gear coming down." The wheeled gear came down and in station mode, a metal pad extended down among the tires to attach to the steel hangar floor magnetically.

"Thanks chief... ok... ok..." He repeated ok softly as they approached the hangar. The plane captain that was guiding them in was on the wrong side of the plane and the directions Alan could see were leading Alan into the hangar wall. "Damn it. Camp Schmitt this is Greyhound Zero Three, can you tell your plane captain in the hangar that's trying to marshal me in, that he's standing on the wrong side of the hangar. I cannot see him. I cannot see his directions."

"Camp Schmitt copies. Hangar one, please move the marshaller to the other side of the hanger. The co-pilot is landing this plane."

"Roger," came the response. But the idiot didn't move. He stood there on the pilot's side of the hangar, his boots magnetically sealed to the floor.

"Camp Schmitt, this is Greyhound Zero Three, the marshaller didn't move, I can't see direction. I need a second marshaller on the co-pilot side if this guy refuses to move."

"We apologize Greyhound Zero Three, a second marshaller has been called for."

After what seemed to be a long wait, a second marshaller stepped out onto the hangar floor and guided them in, but the first marshaller went over to the second one and said something to the second marshaller who left the hangar, and the first marshaller went back to the pilot's side of the hanger.

"Camp Schmitt, Greyhound Zero Three. I want to see that marshaller and his commander in the Camp Commanders office in thirty minutes, if we live." With that, he did something he's always wanted to do. He slowly spun the big ship around on its axis and backed it into the hangar. Using low powered radar proximity detection, he eased the U-700 in backwards until the tail was 1 foot from the rear hangar wall, then set it down and locked it in place with magnetic plates, then went through the shutdown checklist.

All six canopies opened, and he released the magnetic suit locks and said, "All ashore who's going ashore. It's almost zero G, just hop out."

He gently lifted Commander Dom Russo out of his seat and handed him down to the medics, who whisked him away. "Are you OK?" asked Pandora as he pulled their flight bags out of the storage compartment.

"We had three attempts on our lives in just one orbit. I think we set a record. Do you remember where the NCIS office is located?"

"Hey! Were you flying that piece of shit?" demanded a voice on Alan's headset. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" a very large marine was looming behind him.

"I want you at the Camp commanders office, with your duty section commander. Be there in thirty minutes private."

"That's gunnery sergeant, mister flyboy."

"Not for long."

Pandora turned to the plane captain and growled, "When he's done with you, you're mine Marine. You tried to orphan my children and I don't take kindly to that at all."

"Ma'am with all due respect, shut the fuck up." Suddenly Alan jabbed him in the gut with the heel of his hand and the Marine crumpled in zero g, trying not to puke.

"Sorry about that private, I thought I saw a bug on your uniform." With that, Alan and Pandora drifted off to the NCIS office "Up" on the 0.5 G ring of the ship. In there they changed out of their environment suits with a "sorry about that, we have a meeting with the station commander in a few minutes."

"Not a problem," the Navy lieutenant assigned to NCIS office watched Alan pull on his dark blue Space Force jacket and saw the silver eagle signifying he was a colonel and the olive branch and arrows it clutched was red, signifying he was a Martian, and the ribbons and wings on his chest signifying that he knew what he was talking about. There's only one Martian colonel in the Space Force. "Captain Scarlett. Ma'am, Colonel Vermillion."

She pulled on her Marine uniform jacket and said. "Life support will stop by and pick up our environment suits." Now that there was an actual by-god hero in the office, the civilian NCIS investigators clustered around the Lieutenant's desk.

"Colonel Scarlett, Vermillion," said the head of NCIS, special Agent Mark Troy. "I need to see your ID cards quickly."

They handed him their ID cards, and he reviewed them, then handed them back along with a sealed envelope. "How did you know we were coming here?" asked Alan as he opened the envelope.

"We didn't, this arrived for you about 15 minutes ago. I was about to go hunt you down."

They opened the envelope and found it contained a classified message. After locking down the room, they read it.

To: Col & Col Scarlett

From: Adm W. Schirra

Re: Current Assignment

1. At 1400 GMT the subject struck again, this time a container ship called the Eustice Fitzsimmons was hit, 15 killed. This is being kept classified by NCIS.

2. I will arrange alternate transportation, continue on with the assignment as planned.

3. What is a woobie? My namesake wants one.

Pandora tapped out a message to her father that read, 'A woobie is the stuffed dog he sleeps with.' When her father reads that, he will know she got his message. Alan put the message back in the envelope and asked Special Agent Troy to destroy the message. After shredding the message, Special Agent Troy said, "How can we help you?"

"To sum up, I request an NCIS investigation into Gunnery Sergeant Rayce Bannon and his actions on my landing." Alan handed the NCIS investigators a thumb drive. "This is the cockpit view and audio of our landing with wounded aboard. The pilot is out of action, and he knows that... but see? He lined up on the pilot's side of the hangar near the emergency exit. I can barely see him over the nose of that ship and he refused to move."

"He's got you lined up far right of the center line," said the chief investigator as he squinted at the monitor, "but he's signaling you to move farther to the right."

"Yes, I would have hit the hangar door and possibly have killed everyone on board... he had the perfect excuse, a blinded pilot and a cabin full of non-fliers. My name was kept off the schedule so he shouldn't have known I was aboard, so my landing must have been a genuine surprise." They watched some more of the sequence, then Alan said, "You can see where the second marshaller came out and I could see him, but Sergeant Bannon moved over to my side of the plane, ordered the second marshaller out of the hangar and returned to the wrong side."

"Because you couldn't see you turned around and backed it in?" asked the astonished investigator. "Isn't that harder to do?"

"No, it's super easy, barely an inconvenience. I can't use proximity radar when nosing into a hangar because the nose radar will toast everything, but the rear radar is very low powered. It's quite easy, it's my favorite bit of that ship. He also had the emergency response team on the wrong side of the hangar so I put the injured pilot on their side so they could get to him without crawling around the aircraft."

"What makes you think he was trying to kill you and wasn't just incompetent?" asked the lieutenant.

"We had two previous attempts on our lives, we were hit by a laser, our eastern buddies launched two SSM-127 missiles at us and now this. I don't believe in coincidence."

"You think the eastern block is out to get you too?"

"Every time I take off from earth they send me off with an SSM-127 or two. Don't forget who took their biggest station away from them." Pandora waved coyly when he said that. "They blame us," continued Alan.

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Camp Schmitt August 7, 2161

Camp Commander's Office

"Sir, Colonel Scarlett," said Yeoman Dorn as he opened the door to the sumptuous office and led Alan into the office alone. The general's yeoman was huge, easily six foot eight and a solid 280 pounds, all muscle. Even his smile was terrifying. He looked like he was planning to eat you. Alan stood at the Camp Schmitt commander's desk and held a salute.

"Sir, Colonel Scarlett reports."

The commander, General Derek Quest, returned the salute and smiled. "Alan! How are Pandora and the kids doing? Anna and Wally, right?"

"Yes sir, and Gerry, he was born six months ago."

"And Pandora? How is she taking to motherhood and the domestic life?"

"Well, including me she has four kids to take care of, along with a fighter squadron's administration, so she's busy."

"How's life on earth?" asked General Quest as Alan sat down.

"We live on an actual canal near Thundering Waters SFB, and her folks live right next door."

"So the Martian gets a canal, that's great. How can I help you?"

Alan leaned across the desk and handed the General a data drive. "Here's a travelogue and why I'm at Camp Schmitt unannounced."

The general watched the launch and as they reached orbit, the screen suddenly went brilliant green. "You were lazed!"

"Yes sir, the pilot is still in ocular surgery. He'll probably never fly again. I was looking down, so I still have my eye."

"So you diverted here. Wise choice..." He watched the orbit, then said, "The Eastern Bloc launched at you?"

"I guess I'm a marked man, they launched at me all three times I took off from earth. Somehow they know when I'm flying."

"They're probably still mad at you for Venus Prime," said the General.

"You have no idea how good that makes me feel, but there were three other Navy fliers, four marines, and a civilian on that bird and we could have lost them all in your main hangar."

The general watched the cockpit view of the hangar approach. "How many center bay landings have you attempted, Colonel?"

"Counting this one?"

"Yes."

"Uhhh... one."

The general broke into a grin. "And you backed it in. What balls! You should have been a marine. Who was that ignorant fool running the hangar floor?"

"Gunny Bannon sir. I initiated an NCIS investigation into him. I got the distinct feeling that somebody doesn't want me to complete the investigation I've been assigned to. Right after we were lazed I squirted IFF and here's the list of responses I got." He handed the General a list of all IFF responses. "I also gave Gunny Bannon orders to be here with his commander."

"IFF? That's not what IFF is for... but... if it works..." The general scanned the list. "Yeoman!"

"Sir!" Yeoman Dorn appeared like magic. "Take these ID numbers and track down their orbital status and if they were manned, I want to know who was in them." Alan didn't mention that Pandora was in another office checking those ID numbers along with Gunnery Sergeant Marcy Dunlop on a secure link back on earth at that same minute. He couldn't wait to see the outcome of both investigations.

"Yes sir!"

"Is Gunny Bannon out there?"

"Yes sir, with a lawyer."

"Send him in, keep the lawyer out there."

"Yes sir!" The Yeoman stood at the office door and signaled to Gunny Bannon that the general wanted to see him with a jerk of his head. Gunny entered the office followed by a Naval JAG officer in a dress white uniform. The yeoman grabbed the lawyer's arm and said, "The General wishes for you to wait out here."

With the door closed, the general let Gunny Bannon sweat at a salute for a long minute, then he returned it. "Gunnery Sergeant Bannon, do you know why you're here?"

"No sir."

"Gunnery Sergeant Bannon, why did you bring a JAG lawyer? There's been no charges filed against you."

"Uhh, sir, I uh..."

"We're waiting."

"Sir I respectfully decline to answer on advice of counsel."

The general leaned forward with a friendly smile. "Is that Lawyer your commander?"

"No sir."

"Yet when you were ordered to come here with your commander, you brought a lawyer. It leads me to believe that you are not happy with your commander, Major Donahoe. Shall we find you a better commander? Possibly someone who can meet your demanding expectations? Someone who can help you become the Marine you always wanted to be?"

Stunned by a barrage of point blank sarcasm, the gunnery sergeant was speechless. The general simply nodded and said, "Permanent reduction to the rank of Staff Sergeant for refusal to obey orders." The screen behind the general lit up and showed the approach of Greyhound Zero Three. "Staff Sergeant Bannon, do you have an explanation for your actions?"

"Sir on advice of counsel I cannot answer that question."

"Sergeant that just cost you further reduction in grade for three months. Would you like to try for six months? Why did you fail to land that craft properly."

"Sir, on advice of counsel I cannot answer that question."

The general groaned. "That's six months reduction in grade to Sergeant and restriction to barracks. You will be assigned to KP until Valentines day. He's all yours colonel."

Alan rose and stood in front of the former Gunnery Sergeant. "Do you recognize me mister Bannon?"

The gunnery sergeant saw the eagle on his shoulder, the red arrows and olive branches in the eagle's claws, the ribbons on his chest and the name Scarlett. This was the Captain Scarlett that they tell sea stories about. "I thought you were retired sir."

"How could I be retired if you were hired to kill me?" He glared at the enlisted man. "Well?"

"On the advice of council..."

"Enough with that crap. I launched an NCIS investigation into your actions and if they find out you were just being a jerk I'm going to watch them space you. If they find out that you intended to kill me or my wife, I will space you, and if I find out that you were paid by the Eastern Bloc, I will treat you like they treated me." He got very close to Sergeant Bannon, "I will pluck out your favorite eye, I'll crush your favorite nut, I'll take a power drill to your kneecaps and elbows, I will take a sledgehammer to your ankles and wrists, I will stab you with hunting knives just to watch your blood ooze, then I will leave you alone until the pain kills you."

Sergeant Bannon looked at the fire in Captain Scarlett's eye and swallowed. He wasn't kidding; he was promising. "On the advice of council..."

"You are so screwed Mister Bannon."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Camp Schmitt August 7, 2161

Camp Hospital

"I can hear you snoring over there," said Dom Russo. He was lying in a hospital bed on the 0.5G wheel of Camp Schmitt. His eyes were covered with bandages, and the look on his face showed he knew his career was over.

"I wasn't snoring, I was listening to some old music and I uh... do I snore?"

"They always told me you were a hardass, a wiseass, and you were great to fly for."

"Aw shit, Dom, I wish we could have flown together longer," said Alan Scarlett. "What did the doc say?"

"He said... they can save my left eye, but my right eye is gone." He stiffened and gulped. "I may get 50% back on the left eye."

"Are you going to go with a bionic on the right?"

"Yeah, but they won't let me fly with a bionic."

"I know, that's why I'm still wearing a patch. When I retire AGAIN I'm going to get a bionic so I can see my kids in 3D and maybe we can have a game of catch, and they won't call me back."

"You do that," said Dom. "It sounds good."

"They tell me you're a good man to work for," said Alan. "They say that you're a guy who has no problem overseeing a lot of folks that are spread out over a wide area."

"I have fliers all over the Atlantic, Pacific coast and everywhere between earth and the moon. Yeah, I can manage a spread organization."

"I need you. I need a #2 man to help me with Scarlett Water systems. I'm needed on Earth, and Mars, and Saturn and the contracts are building up. They're begging for us on Luna and the asteroid belt. They want a water stockpile at Lunar Lagrange four and five and we're spreading out into scrapping. I need a guy who can help keep an organization like that."

"I... I don't think..."

"I don't want to hear anything from you," said Alan, interrupting the grounded flier. "I was just bragging. HOWEVER, in the future, if you want to help out a fellow busted up flier, give me a call." He placed a business card in Dom Russo's hand. "I'll be there for you. And I'll let you fly with a bionic."

Dom chuckled. "You're offering me a job and you tell me to shut up?"

"Yeah. Odd, only my best people have responded to an invitation like that. Go figure."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Camp Schmitt August 7, 2161

Commander's Mess

The commander's mess was more sumptuous than Alan had ever guessed. Wood-paneled walls, large picture windows where the stars wheeled, and the disc of the moon spun. Rich linen tablecloths and napkins with real silverware and China were on a huge wooden table. What made the room impressive was that the plumbing and wiring you'd normally see on the overhead (ceiling) was hidden under tiles, and there was room to move around. Usually, the mess deck on a ship or station was a crowded affair.

Captain Scarlett and Colonel Vermillion stepped into the plush room and the dinner guests rose and started clapping. Alan and Pandora were allowed two guests, so Eris joined them wearing a smart black pantsuit and was escorted by Staff Sergeant Alex Rodriguez wearing his Service A uniform (Green coat and trousers with khaki web belt, shirt, and tie), the same uniform Pandora was wearing. Alan was still in his Service dress blue uniform. He was wearing a bow tie, something that Pandora loves him to wear and she's quite good at tying it.

"They're clapping for you Popeye," Eris whispered.

"No, they're clapping for you. You were brave enough to fly with me," he whispered back. General Derreck Quest came forward and greeted his guests.

"Gunny Rodriguez, thank you for bringing them through the fire, and Eris! Pandora! I haven't seen you two together since you were what... seven? Eight?"

"Seventeen," said Eris. "You were there at our high school graduation."

"Ah yes, that's where the girls split up. Pandora went off to Annapolis and you went on to University of Mars. What was your major?"

"Alchemy." When she got a confused look from the general, she laughed. "Metallurgy. It's mostly magic, so they might as well call it alchemy."

"And when did you meet Staff Sergeant Rodriguez?"

Eris gave an innocent little giggle. "When he arrested me. He thought I was The Scrapper! And I was merely poking around my brother-in-law's office on Mars."

"Yes we did, but when we saw her close up, we thought she was Colonel Vermillion," said Alex, wondering why they didn't say that she was The Scrapper, but the captain asked him to keep his ears open and offer nothing.

They soon sat at the large table and had a sumptuous meal of prime rib, twice-baked potatoes, and Brussels sprouts with real coffee, a rarity in space. They ate and chatted and the general tried to include Alan and Pandora in on the discussion but it's always difficult to do that. The General and his staff were close and had been together for years, so they were comfortable with each other and knew how to talk with each other. Alan and Pandora were alien and had a reputation that the members of the staff were in awe of, but older staff members understood that the events of Alan's past were full of turmoil and stayed away.

It was a splendid meal until a Marine captain on the general's staff rose his glass and said, "A toast! To the hero of Venus Prime, Captain Scarlett." But Alan sat and refused to look up. "Did I err?" the young officer asked.

"Lad, the captain survived a meat grinder," said General Quest. "He lost so much, and we all pray you don't ever experience a tenth of that."

Alan looked like he was going to throw up, but the Captain continued. "Surely there is something you can share."

"Alan, you don't have to," said General Quest.

"No," said Alan with a sigh. "What the hell. The stories are out there, I might as well counter them with the truth." He paused for a long time, then said, "We were outnumbered over ten to one, and we advanced slowly. Behind me, my carrier burned, and her escorts hung dead in space. We had nothing to return to, our only hope was boarding the station... if we lived."

Now every ear hung on his every word. The most shocking space battle ever fought and the only Western Alliance participant to survive was finally speaking to them!

"We held our fire but the moment their lasers opened up, we retaliated with 50 caliber gun fire. Single shots, the engines of the F-733 fighter were calibrated to overcome the recoil but could only do it at a slow rate of fire. But it only takes one round to get the job done in space." He actually grinned over the edge of his wineglass as he took a sip.

"What kind of enemy ships were you fighting?" asked the young Marine captain.

Alan shrugged and shook his head. "The kind that were shooting at me. I don't know what was in the first wave, I never saw one whole. The second wave we saw, however. They were all Eastern Bloc fighters. I killed a Flounder, then they opened up with the station artillery, 5 petawatt lasers." The table gasped. Lasers that powerful were called "Planet Busters" for a reason. But Alan continued. "I was rammed by a Frogtail that exploded and shoved me under the station. When I ejected I actually ejected into the station, which is how I survived and was captured."

Now when he sipped his wine, his hand was shaking. "They held me and tortured me for two weeks. They killed my men in front of me... they..." he couldn't bring himself to say any more except one thing. "The only thing that saved me was my wife. Focusing on her, planning to return to her kept me alive. Then she did the rest... Colonel Vermillion and her Marine Corps squadron of B-171 bombers swooped in. My captors saw her coming and focused on her which allowed me to escape in a rescue pod. Pandora finished the job by blowing the living shit out of that station." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it to the applause of the marines, which annoyed Pandora.

"So you had a joyful reunion?" asked the young captain.

"No," said Pandora. "It was very difficult, we both had to work very hard to overcome the changes caused by three years of separation and his captivity." She smiled sweetly at the captain. "Eventually we found that the testicle they left him with works fine."

She could tell that her words 'the testicle they left him with' shocked the captain, who looked like he was going to cry. "War is a dirty business," said Alan. "If you're not in to win, you're just a parasite on the government dole."

The General cleared his throat. "We should concentrate on the fact that Captain Scarlett did the impossible, he moved a moon! He didn't just move it, he stole it, chopped it up and landed it on Mars. With that moon he is providing water to the people of Mars, the colonies survive. What's next Captain? Are you going to bring water to Luna?"

"That's next on the list," said Alan softly. "When my executive assistant gets out of the hospital I have more things to try."

"And we thought you were here to stop the Scrapper," said a Marine Major Hawkins.

"Oh? Has the scrapper been around picking out of your garbage cans?" asked Eris sweetly. Pandora gripped Alan's hand tightly. A marine had access to highly classified information and spewed it out over dinner.

"No, the arrogant fellow shot apart a container ship earlier today. The Eustice Fitzsimmons."

"Oh? I must have missed it when your Hangar Landing NCO tried to kill me." Alan glared at the major with his one good eye, silently daring him to open his mouth.

"That is all under investigation," said General Quest. "It's best left to the JAG corps."

"NCIS," said Alan. "They actually have a better conviction rate." That got a rise out of someone. Pandora grasped his hand as a warning. She was watching the table, watching reactions as Alan lobbed grenades around the room. However, at the moment, he was tapping out a message on his communications device.

The general wisely let Alan's remark pass, but someone else asked, "Why are you back on Active Duty captain?"

"My father-in-law, Admiral Schirra, wanted to spend a few weeks with the grandchildren." That brought chuckles. "They're really cute!" he insisted, which brought more laughter and let everyone know he was not answering the question.

"So what are your plans from here?"

Alan held his wife's hand sadly. They were due for several months of separation. It was bad enough being away from the kids. "I'm traveling on to Armstrong Station with Eris to see how the Berserkers are doing without me, and our Marines are returning to Mars."

"What are you going to be doing on Mars, colonel?"

"My Uncle-in-law asked me to keep an eye on Lake Jezero in case The Scrapper shows up to steal their water technology."

"Uncle-in-law?"

"Ray Clark, he's getting ready to retire and wants to make sure he turns over a secure water system. It's the only place on Mars that allows uniformed military because a military Scarlett runs the place."

"Even a Scarlett by marriage?"

"Thank you gentlemen, I think we need to turn in early," said Alan. "We have flights to catch." They rose, then Alan said, "General, can I have a few words with you?"

"By all means. I'll be right back gentlemen." They stepped out the door into the main corridor and found NCIS Special Agent Mark Troy with two more agents and a half dozen armed Marines. "What is going on?" demanded General Quest.

"We need a room we can discuss sensitive data," said Alan softly. While Alex escorted Eris back to her room, the General led Alan and Pandora to his office. Once the office was sealed, Alan said, "You have a problem with your staff. I hope it's only Major Hawkins but..."

"Hawkins is one of the finest infantry officers I've ever had," said General Quest.

"Then what was he doing talking about classified information at dinner?" demanded Pandora.

"Classified?"

"The attack on the Eustice Fitzsimmons is locked down, top secret," she huffed. "And we've had the person you call The Scrapper in custody for two months."

"Who is it?"

"That's not important, in fact whoever is committing these attacks is not important," said Alan. "My orders are to find the weapon he's using and either make it ours or destroy it."

"My orders are to prevent it from being used on Mars," said Pandora. "President Clarks office has been getting some chilling threats. The Eastern Bloc must have left some amazing items in Jezero crater, because someone calling himself the Scrapper is demanding it all. If he doesn't get it, he's going to use his Gun on Martian cities. The admiral thinks that these ships he's hitting are practice as much as profit."

The general looked from Alan to Pandora and back. "How are you going to do this?"

"I stole a moon; I suppose I can steal a gun."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Their love making that night started out sweet and gentle. The room was dark, with just enough earthlight coming through the porthole to let them see into each other's eyes. Touching and kissing went on for what seemed like a sweet forever. Finally, words broke through the gasps and coos. "Should we sneak down to the zero G gym and give it a go?"

"No," said Eris as she kissed, then nipped at Alex's nipple. "My sister and her husband have the gym reserved this evening. They seem to like it in zero G." Her hand wrapped around his thick cock, and she mentally kicked herself for all the time they lost between Mars and Earth.

"You don't like it in zero G?" asked Alex Rodriguez. His thick fingers eased in and out of Eris' pussy, sending thrills through her slender frame.

"It's ok, but it has it's drawbacks." Her thumb discovered a large drop of precum on his cockhead and rubbed it around and around, driving him crazy.

"What drawbacks?"

"Well," she said as they kissed. "A big macho marine can't throw me down in zero G and fuck my wisdom teeth loose."

He kissed her tenderly. "Oh."

"Ahem. I said, a big macho marine can't throw me down in zero G and..." she squealed in delight as Alex shoved her back on the bed, climbed between her long slim legs and roughly shoved his cock into her saturated pussy. "Hey! What gives you the right... oh yes!" The expected shock of his sudden savage thrusting became intense pleasure growing and growing in her slender body.

Eris brought her slim legs up and pressed her heels into Alex's ass, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she held on for dear life as the young Marine sergeant began fucking her senseless. "God yes!" she cried as their groins slapped together again and again.

The next thing she knew, her ankles were on his shoulders, and he was spearing her to her core. Eris was completely helpless and was loving every moment. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," she gasped over and over as she tried to hold on. She was being pinned to the mattress over and over by a long, thick, cock. Her tiny breasts were shuddering with each brutal thrust. With a squeal of ecstasy, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on tight as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. She squeezed so hard he could barely move, her slim but muscular legs locked around his ass and held on as she trembled and shuddered through her orgasm.

Eris was panting, her mind spinning from the most powerful orgasm in her life. She opened her bleary eyes and saw Alex grinning down at her. "It's not over yet ma'am." He pulled her off of his hard cock, flipped her over, grabbed her hips and yanked her ass up.

"I hate doggy style! I... oh god!" Her mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out in surprise as he speared his cock into her.

Alex held her in place and fucked maniacally, his hips pounding into her, his groin slapping her ass, their juices covering them. All she could do was take it over and over and fall in love with every pounding stroke. When he finally came inside of her with a roar, he collapsed on her back and she sagged to the bed, his cock slowly growing soft inside of her.

"Good god! Are you like that every time?" she gasped, as Alex kissed her cheek.

"Only with redheads," Alex whispered as he nibbled on her ear.

<><><><><>

Zero G was so much easier on Alan's replaced joints, and for him and Pandora it worked out nicely when they want to be silly or when they want to be gentle. They drifted together, their lovemaking over for what Pandora was terrified would be the last time. There was something about this mission that frightened them. What was this new weapon? Was this madman testing out a new weapon to sell to the Eastern Bloc? Can they stop him before he gets to Mars?

"I should be going with the Berserkers," whispered Pandora. "I've got combat training."

"You're needed on your tube," said Alan. Tube is the derogatory nickname for the heavy bombers. "Does your dad know something?"

"Dad knows everything. Something is up." They held each other tightly, kissing softly, wondering when they would meet again. "I haven't been this scared since I found out I was pregnant with Gerry."

One doctor at Thundering Waters SFB hospital told Pandora she was going to lose the baby. She was so terrified that every time Anna climbed up on her lap she would panic; she was afraid of endangering Gerry. Pandora was just getting back to normal, and this happened. "When we get back, I'm getting the bionic eye," said Jerry. "That way they can't call me back."

"You're disabled, 100% disabled, yet they still call you back... why are you here?" asked Pandora. "You could have said no."

"Because... you're here." Alan tried to kiss her tears away, but he couldn't keep up with the stream. "Let's just save the solar system one more time and go home." They floated gently in each other's arms for the rest of the night until they were roused by Eris banging on the Gymnasium door.

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Camp Schmitt August 8, 2161

Central Hub Hangar

The big U-700 was still occupying the hangar deck of Camp Schmitt, and it would continue to sit there until the Navy sent a fully qualified U-700 pilot to pick it up. Alan is familiar with the big boat, but not familiar enough to drop back down to earth with it. The U-700 is in short supply. They're needed, so it's safe to say that a pilot will be on his or her way. Two maintenance "scooters" were waiting for Pandora, Eris, Alan and the marines. A maintenance scooter is a small craft with a cage on the back for hauling workers and equipment to different parts of the exterior of the station.

With a dire threat from Alan to protect the colonel, the Marines got on one scooter with Pandora, while Alan and Eris climbed on the other scooter, and they followed the first scooter out the door. They were greeted by three large ships waiting for them. Two B-171 bombers and the SS Peake. Pandora waved excitedly at Alan as she saw she was going to be joining her old friends in the VMBH 275th Marine Bombardment Squadron.

The lovers sadly watched each other drift off into space. All four of them.

The scooter Alan was on pulled right inside the big cargo bay of the SS Peake, a surprisingly fast and agile cargo hauler, but it also had a couple of tricks up its sleeve. It was now carrying a full squadron of F-733 Predator interstellar fighters and had two alert bay modules, so up to eight fighters could be attached to the belly of the cargo ship and be launched in a matter of moments.

"You stole a moon with this old scow?" demanded Eris as they floated up toward the bridge.

A fighter pilot stuck his head out of an office door and said, "Cap?"

"Jim?" they cried out in recognition and gave each other a hug.

Then the pilot turned to Eris and said, "Colonel! I love what you did with your hair!" and he moved to hug her, but she stopped him with the heel of her hand.

"Back off big guy, I'm dating a marine."

Jim Dutton looked back and forth between Alan and Eris in shock. "Jim, gather the troops, all of them, Peake crew too, in the briefing room, I've got to hit life support... we still have them, right?"

"Same place captain."

"Ok, get this beast away from the station and we'll gather up in ten minutes." Alan led Eris down the hall to the ready room module which shared a life support office with its neighbor ready room. On the floor were the cockpits of four fighters. The side by side canopies rather than fore and aft seating showed that those were F-733 fighters, and the canopies opened from the rear and slid forward showed they were F-733F models. At the back of the room was a door leading into a room where Alan turned in Eris' helmet and she began stripping off her environment suit. "Can I get a small woman's flight suit and a large mans?"

"Still a captain, captain?" asked the life support specialist as he prepared to make a new name tag for Alan.

"Negative, I'm a colonel in the Space Force." He responded to the astonished looks with, "No really! I am! They're the ones that called me to duty, and make a name tag for Eris Carmine, Civilian Consultant."

"Comin' up! You back in the saddle Pappy?"

"Yeah, we're having a kegger in the briefing room in five minutes. Let everyone back there know."

"Will do sir!"

"Are you always so chummy with your people?" asked Eris as she wrestled out of her environment suit.

"We stole a moon together. How can you be pissy with someone that can steal a moon?" Eris was floating naked next to him, wrestling the environment suit down her legs. Damn, her body was exactly the same as Pandora's. She even had a small tattoo at the base of her spine, like Pandora. Pandora has a tattoo of a small sea chest, Pandora's Box. Eris has a tattoo of a pair of crossed swords, which made sense. Eris was the Greek goddess of strife and discord.

When dressed, they floated into the briefing room, which was carpeted with Velcro, and planted their Velcro boots firmly as the room went totally silent. "Damn," whispered Eris. "What did you say to them?"

"It's what you said."

Before Alan could start the briefing, Eileen Collins called out, "Did she say she's dating a marine?"

"They spent last night together while I was in the gym." He turned to Eris and asked, "what were you doing last night?".

"Banging." The crowd began grumbling angrily and Eris said, "they're going to kill me. Thanks Popeye."

Alan hit a key on the terminal before him, and a photograph appeared on the wall behind him. "This is a photograph of Lieutenant Walter Shirra and his wife Estelle, now I call them mom and dad," said Alan to start the briefing. "This is a picture of their twin girls Pandora and Eris. Colonel Pandora is back on bombers, and we have Eris with us for this tour, she's a metallurgist and until recently was known as The Scrapper."

"She's the one we've been chasing around shooting up ships?"

"Yes and no. Yes, you have been chasing her, and no, she's not been shooting up ships. She was apprehended by the marine she's been banging for the past two months ... ow!" Eris punched him in the ribs.

"You deserve that," said a new recruit.

"Thank you," said Eris.

"Ok, we are looking at someone that can destroy an entire cargo ship with one shot," said Alan, still rubbing his aching ribs. "The Martian government has credible evidence that leads them to believe that Jezero lake is in danger. Colonel Pandora is going to protect Mars while we hunt the real scrapper down."

As he was talking, the ship lurched, and after a moment, alarms started bellowing. "What's going on?"

"Camp Schmitt was just hit," came the call from the active captain on the bridge. On the screen showed a small field of debris growing around the outer ring of Camp Schmitt near the four o'clock position on the ring.

Alarms sounded throughout the ship and Alan said, "I need a navigator!" and charged for the closest ready room. "Get the SS Peake out of here!" There was a frenzy to scramble for environment suits, but Alan hadn't changed out of his yet. He slid into a fighter that had Pandora's name painted on the canopy sill and started the pre-launch checklist. He had the ship ready to drop when Eileen Collins slid in next to him. "Hey darling," he said cheerfully as they locked on their helmets and wiggled in their seats, making sure the magnets in their environment suits had grabbed the seat magnets. "It's been a while." Alan had given Eileen her first instructions on flying in high Saturn orbit.

"Do you remember how to do this?" she asked as their canopies slammed closed.

"It's like falling off of a bicycle!" Alan hit the release lever and they dropped from the ready room/hangar. He spun the ship ninety degrees left on its axis, then punched the throttle and charged straight at the wounded space station. "Berserker One to Vampire One, how are you doing colonel."

"We took a little damage from debris," said Pandora. "We're good, maintenance has all external work almost done." Eileen almost wept. She could feel the ache in their voices as the couple, who found passionate love in each other a second time, longed to express their love openly over the radio.

"Get your outside folks back indoors, you need to go away Ma'am," said Alan.

Instead of agreeing, Pandora said "Forty four."

"One twenty eight," he responded softly. Then his voice changed. He sounded anxious when he said, "now git, ma'am. We have flat fish inbound." Flat fish meant flounders.

"Aye aye, sailor man." The two big bombers rotated and lined up to leave. The B-171 looks like a semi flattened length of pipe with bulges at each end. In the bulge on one end were sensors, antennas, portholes, hatches and windows. In the bulge at the other end were six enormous engines. Between the two immense bomb bays was another bulge in the ship and a colossal dish shaped high-gain multi use antenna protruded from the center of the fuselage. It could be used for ELR (Extreme Long Range) communications, or long range radar, or just stealthy listening. If he couldn't be a pilot, Alan would happily settle for a radio operator on a Marine heavy bomber just because their communications possibilities were astounding.

The "tailpipes" of Vampire One and Vampire Two began glowing, and with surprising speed, the massive bombers disappeared into the dark. "Goodbye my love," Alan whispered softly. He never keyed the mike, but he realized the intercom was active when he heard Eileen's breath hitch in her throat.

"Twelve flounders inbound," said the SS Peake. "Their lasers just went hot." The RCF-92 "Flounder" fighters that were inbound had the most powerful lasers of any fighter size spacecraft in the solar system.

"Charlie and delta flight, stay with the Peake, Alpha and Bravo stay with Camp Schmitt."

"Bravo, roger."

"Charlie."

"Delta."

The Peake moved off in the opposite direction of the bombers as Charlie and Delta flights launched. "Where did those guys come from?" asked Eileen as she logged four incoming fighters as targets and auto-cocked the fifty caliber guns.

"There has to be a carrier or freighter around here somewhere haunting Camp Schmitt, waiting for an opportunity like this," said Alan.

"They're stopping boss," said Eileen. Alan checked his MFD and noticed that the Flounders had drawn up to a stop just outside of effective laser range. (The power of the laser isn't compromised; the accuracy of the fighter's targeting system is unreliable over distance) "Their landing gear has been extended." Extending the landing gear is the same as holding your hands up. For assault air and spacecraft, lowering the landing gear disables the weapons system for the safety of the ground troops.

"George, hang back," Alan called to his wingman, George Zamka. George was Alan's navigator four years ago when they put Big Berserker 01 on Mars. Alone, Alan slowly approached the formation of fighters that hung motionless in space. They got close enough to actually see the pilots in their cockpits then Alan extended his landing gear.

"May we talk?" came over Alan's headsets. It was a female voice with a Russian accent.

Captain Scarlett nudged his ship closer to the Eastern Bloc fighters. As he pulled to a stop, the rear canopy of the closest Flounder opened up and slowly a spaceman rose out of the cockpit. "Don't go anywhere," said Alan to Eileen.

"What?" cried Eileen, but before she could protest further, Alan's canopy slid forward, and he floated up out of his seat. Using a "puff pack" he drifted close to the Flounder fighters. The eastern bloc pilot did the same and met with Alan between the formations.

"What do you want?" asked Alan.

"Me? Personally, I would like beef on weck sandwich," came the accented female voice. "Brevet Space Force Colonel Alan Scarlett, I am Colonel Antonina Matrona Markov of the Peoples Space Force."

"I know you," said Alan. "You were at Thundering Waters."

"Da. I was emissary for the Russian people at Thundering Waters. I can purchase the, how you say, Genesee Cream Ale, but beef on weck is beyond me. Where do you get the kimmelweck for the beef sandwich?"

"You don't purchase them, you make them." In the reflected light of the earth far below, Alan could see the familiar face of the attractive middle-aged woman. He never spoke while she was at Thundering Waters, but he knows Pandora spoke with her occasionally. "We can go out to dinner when we get home," he continued. "I know you didn't attack Camp Schmitt."

"No. We did not. Can we speak closely?" To answer, Alan pulled her close, and they held each other in an embrace, the faceplates of their helmets pressed together. They both turned off their suit radios. "Can you hear me?" Antonina asked. Her voice echoed in his helmet.

"Yes, for some reason, your people left me with my hearing."

"They were not our people. Those pridurki have no honor! I apologize for your pilot that was lazed, I argued against that. How do you know we did not attack Camp Schmitt?"

"The weapon used is not yours. Several of your own ships have been hit by the same weapon and then pilfered by a scrapper."

"Da, not The scrapper, am I right?"

"Yes you are right. Why are we here?"

Antonina didn't pause a single beat. "Some in my government want this weapon. Others, me included, want it studied for its scientific value and removed from untrained hands. From what we know, the weapon is difficult to deploy. It would be best in the hands of people that understand powerful weapons."

"We agree, so why are we here?" Alan asked again.

"The eastern bloc has chosen not to invest time and money on the search. The government has taken a position of 'watch and laugh.' They believe that the deployer of the weapon will cause much pain to the Western Alliance then we will sweep in and take what we want from the ashes."

"Politics sucks."

"Da. I cannot help you other than give you a name. Doctor Franco Aldini, he was last seen at the Albatross Mine. More than that I cannot say."

"Yes you can. You make sure Pandora gets home. Just promise me that."

Antonina paused, then said, "I cannot promise."

"Colonel Markov, if I make it home and she does not, I have two moons inbound from Saturn. I make a minor course adjustment then call out on the radio how they got away because of that machine, and one hits the Eastern Bloc in Moscow, the other hits Western Alliance HQ at Mexico City and I sit back and laugh... Both sides will blame each other, and the war of 2085 will seem like a skirmish."

Antonina Markov studied Scarlett's eye. Tension on both sides was at an all-time high. The right assassination at the wrong time would set off a firestorm that the earth would not survive, but this plan of his is madness! "You are willing to sacrifice your children for their mother?"

"I'm a Martian, I've lived with death every moment of my life. Thanks to the Eastern Bloc, Pandora is all that I have. Her children will be safe, but I cannot say the same for yours."

Antonina Markov paused for a long time before saying, "My friend Pandora Vermillion will return home, her children are too cute to leave alone with their pridurok father. When this is finished you will show me how is made kimmelweck. Da?"

"Da. Thank you."

Without another word, Alan returned to his F-733 and asked Eileen to join up with the SS Peake. "What does pridurok mean?" he asked.

"It means Jerk," said Eileen. "Why?"

"It's the word of the day."

"What did he say?" asked Antonina's pilot, Captain Kazimir Novikov, as Antonina returned to her Flounder, and the F-733s retreated to the big, ugly freighter.

"He said he would start a war that would leave the earth in cinders if anything happened to his wife."

"Blowhard!" scoffed Novikov. "Western forces, so weak and soft. They don't know what they're talking about."

"No Kazimir, he's not Western. He is Martian, and they don't lie, nor do they exaggerate. They are fatalists, exactly what Russians were two hundred years ago. You will be proud to meet him. He said he would bring water to Mars, and he did it."

"Bah! Scarlett took a moon and dropped it on Mars."

"Da. And I am afraid he may do it again elsewhere."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

SS Peake August 11, 2161

High-Speed Run to Asteroid MC-773Δ

Alan crouched over his terminal and tried to reach Marcy Dunlap, but she wasn't replying to his text messages. "Briefing room, bridge. Communications has coded traffic, Gunnery Sergeant Dunlap for Space Force Colonel Scarlett."

'Of all the times...' groaned Alan. "Be right there." He kicked off as quickly as possible and made his way up the main central corridor to the bridge. "What did you see Marcy?" called Alan once the radio was keyed up.

"We caught a flash at roughly the same time we recorded the hit on Camp Schmitt."

"Can you come up with a rough location of origin?"

"Sending it up to your navigator."

"Any ships in that area?"

"I found a reference to a JCHA hospital ship, the JSS Friedensbringer. I found that in a log entry on a container tug." JCHA, the Joint Committee on Homeland Authority, replaced the United Nations in 2099 after the world discovered how useless the UN was. The hard way.

"You're an angel Marcy. Beer and wings are on me when we all get back."

"Just get back then we'll talk bribery."

He watched the nav data come in and wasn't surprised where their target was. It was a gap in space between Mars and the asteroid belt that all flashes in the Kuyper Belt traced back to. "We need to keep the course serpentine," he said to the captain of the Peake, Captain Elliot See. "He's getting better at hitting slowly moving objects, but we haven't seen evidence of hitting serpentine movements."

"That's going to be a bitch on a fast run," said Elliot.

"Give me 30 minutes to get everyone strapped in and it's all yours."

Jim Dutton, his vice commander for this trip, drifted alongside of him. "What's the mission, colonel?" He emphasized the word colonel just to annoy Alan.

"The mission is everyone comes home. Along the way we're going to snag some bad guys." They drifted into the mission control room, a computer center that was originally built to pilot a three cubic kilometer moon to Mars. There were several terminals available, and Alan logged into one. He looked up a few flight plans as Jim Dutton looked over his shoulder.

"Why are you searching the Friedensbringer?" he asked. "It's just an old hospital ship."

"I know. It doesn't file flight plans, there's no accountability." Alan tried to track the travel of the Friedensbringer, but there doesn't seem to be any information available. It had been years since the Friedensbringer acted as a hospital ship. It didn't respond to Venus Prime either.

"What are you looking up?" asked Eris, who was so bored she could scream.

"The Friedensbringer."

"Ghost ship," said Eris.

"What?"

"It's a ghost ship, everyone knows that." She looked around the room and realized that no one in the room was familiar with her assessment. She shrugged and left, heading back to the bunk that was assigned to her.

"Eris wait," Alan called, but she kept going. "Ok, everyone to your bunks. It's going to be a rough ride." He quickly sent out a signal on 601.5 megahertz. ".---- ..--- ---.."

He continued to pour over reports until he heard the response "....- ....-" When the morse code came over 601.5 megahertz, he looked at the radio sadly, then squeezed his eye closed. "What the fuck does she see in me?" After pulling himself together, he put the classified reports back into the safe and collected a few that were waiting for his study. He checked life support, the briefing room and the hangar bay to make sure everything was ready for the acceleration, then headed to his bunk.

The bunks were fully enclosed seven feet deep, three feet wide and six feet tall... unless your ship speed up, or decelerated, then the G forces made them seven feet deep, three feet tall and six feet wide. They were cushioned all around to make a mattress, regardless of what direction was up at the time. When you're weightless, it really doesn't matter. You enter the bunk from the head (or foot, depending on how you sleep) and when you close the door, the bunk can become a life pod with 72 hours of oxygen and an oxygen rebreathing system built in.

Like normal, he dove into his bunk headfirst without brushing aside the privacy curtain and without looking. "Hey!" Eris shouted as he plowed into her. She was wearing "spaceman jammies" a one piece jumper that is the normal underwear worn in environment suits and flight suits. (Flight suits are actually mechanic's coveralls with pockets in the upper sleeves for pens and a built-in elastic belt. They're usually a macho olive drab while mechanic's coveralls are dark green. They make flight crews feel cool.)

"What are you doing in my bunk?" asked Alan, as he stuffed his paperwork in a slot safe.

"How was I to know it was your bunk?"

"The sign. Did you miss it? It says Commander, Captain Scarlett."

"You're a Colonel," she said with a pout. She was curling up into a fetal position and refusing to make eye contact.

"Lonely?"

"Maybe."

"What's really the matter?" In response, she just mumbled. "I didn't catch that." Again, she just mumbled. "You're going to have to speak up."

"I said I miss Gerry!" then she thought for a moment, "I mean Alex!"

"It's ok, you can miss them both." Alan smiled as he remembered Aunt Eris and her little nephew Gerry. They bonded immediately and were rarely apart.

"You fucked up my life!" she demanded. "I never needed anyone, then YOU came along, you handed me the baby, and took me for boat rides, and gave me a marine, and showed me all the water..."

"Sorry, shit happens," said Alan, trying seriously hard not to laugh. He felt guilty for the laughter that was trying to bubble up, because he knows how she feels. He was just a happy-go-lucky back alley spaceboy until Eris' father introduced him to her twin sister, Pandora. It was six years of hell. Being spacemen, they were pulled apart for mission requirements, reunited maybe five times a year for a week at a time. Then Pandora got that three-year assignment into a still classified area and Alan missed her so much that he became suicidal. He didn't realize how bad he was until he was facing 502 enemy fighters at Venus Prime and thought, "I'm not going to be lonely anymore."

"It really sucks, being alone, doesn't it," Alan finally said.

"How do you do it?" Eris groaned. The acceleration started, and the wall became a mattress, and they were soon lying side by side.

"Pandora and I have a code. I send her a number. It means that I love her and miss her. She responds with a different number that means she loves and misses me. If I change the number it means something has changed here, otherwise it's the same number every time... until I send her the same number she was sending me, then it means I'm coming home."

"And you're the last Martian of your family," said Eris. She patted him on the shoulder.

"No, all our kids were born on Mars. Uncle Ray insisted on it. He even flew us all to Mars and back for each birth. I doubt they'll ever understand the meaning behind it, in fact I'm not sure myself, but that's Ray.

"Ray... Ray Clark? President of the Union of Martian Colonies?"

"Yeah. He's a cool old guy. Hopefully he'll have a few minutes when this is over, I'll introduce you to him."

"We're going to Mars when we're done?" Eris suddenly brightened.

"Of course, that's where your marine is. He's probably keeping an eye on your stuff. Now, tell me about the Friedensbringer."

"As far as I know, the Friedensbringer was brought into Epps Whitson Shipyards in 2149 for a total refit. It needed six new engines, and about a dozen directional thrusters so it was parked in the ghost fleet until six engines were located. In 2154 shit was getting hot between East and West so the JCHA decided to prioritize the Friedensbringer but when they went to pull her into the engine shop, she wasn't there. Her position in the ghost fleet was gone, whoever took her, closed the gap she left so she wouldn't be noticed missing."

"Someone stole an entire hospital ship?"

Eris shrugged. "I've had grown-up people who should know better tell me that ghosts of the soldiers that died inside the Friedensbringer took it. They're prowling the space ways looking for the bodies of the dead." Eris said this part with a spooky tone of voice.

"So the JSS Friedensbringer has been floating around the solar system doing whatever they want and nobody noticed?" asked Alan.

"Seriously, it was the worse kept secret in outer space."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

JSS Friedensbringer, August 13, 2161

Asteroid Belt Firing Zone

"What do you have on your scope?" asked Winston Scarver as he leaned over the Navigator's shoulder.

"SS Odysseus Nash, cargo container ship, nine thousand containers, and the manifest says they're all full of 'machine parts.'"

Winston grinned. For the past two centuries, 'Machine Parts' has only meant one thing. Guns. "Let's take them."

"Aye aye sir," said the Navigator, and he laid in a course to parallel the Odysseus Nash and launched four small Gulag class high-speed freighters full of tools and men. The freighters were nicknamed whaleboats by the pirates. The whaleboats, simply named G1, G2, G3, and G4, were attached to the exterior of the Friedensbringer at the old ambulance attach points. Each of the whaleboats was packed with electronic countermeasures and other radar defeating devices. They were also painted flat black, so they couldn't be seen with optics. Their job was to sneak up on the target undetected, and act as eyes for the Friedensbringer when Winston shoots. The whale boats correct Winston's aim and when he hits the target, they close in and take whatever they want. Often, they need to execute crewmen that resist, but it's part of the job.

"I'll be in my quarters," Winston said to the man at the helm. "Notify me when the whale boats are in position."

"Yar!"

"Seriously?"

"Oh come on captain, what good is being a pirate if we can't talk like one?"

Winston looked at the two goons that always accompanied him and nodded. "Hey! Wait! What are you doing?" shouted the helmsman as the two low IQ goons grabbed the young pirate out of the helm position and shoved him in the airlock and closed the door.

Winston looked at the terrified young man through the window and said, "What good is being a spaceman if you're not in space?" and he hit the button, opening the outer door. Immediately, every molecule of air was ripped out of the former helmsman's lungs, starting the suffocation process. All liquids in his body would slowly start boiling, causing unmeasurable agony, and massive ebullism in the body's tissues would result rapidly. Lucky for the lad, he lost consciousness in seven seconds, then a second later, lost control of his bladder and bowels. The swelling in his muscles constricted blood flow to his heart and brain. It took him a few minutes to die, and then the slow freezing process started.

"If any fuckin' kid wants to play pirates," rumbled Winston Scarver, "he can walk the plank."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

NSS Naha, August 14, 2161

Geosynchronous orbit above Martian equator.

"Ma'am, I have something," whispered the spaceman manning the listening post. "Can I get both antenna?"

Two heavy bombers, the NSS Naha (Vampire 1) and NSS Krakow (Vampire 2) were directly opposite from each other eight thousand miles above the Martian globe and could monitor anything that got close to the red planet in all directions. This time they were exercising some theoretical war fighting skills that came to Pandora while Alan was watching ancient submarine movies, and they looked to be working. Both ships antennas could be aimed at what the sensor operator was trying to decipher, doubling his listening power. "Yes, you got it."

The antennas of two ships concentrated on whatever the sensor operator was trying to pick up. Remotely linked, the massive 20 meter disk antennas aimed at something... The bombers don't have sonar in the traditional sense because there's no sound, but reaction engines of all types generate electromagnetic waves, and so do other ship's systems, and they can be seen by the hi-gain antennas on the spine of each bomber. When the ship you are monitoring cuts the engines, and is coasting, there are fields generated by on board equipment, but also there are stars to watch. When a star disappears, it means that something got in the way, like a ship.

Pandora keeps her bridge quiet. There's little idle chatter, and she keeps the lighting subdued to instill a sense of professionalism, but also as a reminder that they're looking for something that may want to kill them.

"What do you have Marine?"

"Sounds like four ships lit the boilers and took off straight at us..." the station operator rolled his eyes upward as he listened to his headsets. "United Reactions N-32 engines... old ones, noisy... They're coasting now."

"Any idea where they were when they lit up?"

"Yes ma'am," said the soldier. He had a tablet in front of him and he marked on his tablet where the four ships were when they fired up their engines. His marks showed up on the large plexigraph map of the inner solar system.

"Firing zone," whispered the young helmsman. There's not a lot for a helmsman to do when in a geosynchronous orbit, so this young private was learning her craft. She was cute, blond, curvy, and had breasts that Pandora always wanted. Pandora hated her.

"Yes it is. Let's keep an eye on this," said Pandora.

"Is the captain aware of this?" asked the helmsman, who Pandora was sure had a crush on Alan.

"The captain is here," Pandora made a circle to the left of the area called the firing zone. Pandora was about to tell her gunners to man their defensive cannons when she had a quick thought. "Is there another ship out there? It looks to me that our four bogies are moving to intercept someone."

"Just this," said the sensor operator, and another mark appeared on the large plexigraph map. "That's the SS Odysseus Nash, a container boat."

'That's a garbage scow,' Pandora thought. "How is he traveling?"

"Straight as an arrow, ma'am."

Damn it! They were told! "Communications, contact the Odysseus Nash, tell them we suggest serpentine course and..." Suddenly her bridge came alive with updates.

"Sensors just went insane ma'am!"

"The Odysseus just blew up ma'am!"

"Ma'am, four ships just went to a five g deceleration burn!"

"Thundering Waters is on the secure net for you ma'am."

"Ok, relax troops. Record everything, you are witnessing a pirate attack." She picked up the handset and said, "Hey Marcie, let me guess, you just saw a flare in the Kuyper Belt at fifteen degrees after TDC."

Back at Thundering Waters Space Force Base, a Radio-Sonar operator leaned over her display and made sense of all the dots and blobs on the screen. "Yes Ma'am!" said Marine Gunnery Sergeant Marcie Dunlop. She almost sounded cheery.

"They just now hit the SS Odysseus Nash," said Pandora as calmly as she could. She had been a 'bomber driver' for most of her career. Staid, calm, deliberate in all actions was the hallmark of a bomber commander, but her three months as a fighter jockey on the SS Peake made her eager to exact revenge.

"Fuckers," said Marcie, showing off her Marine vocabulary. "That puts them right in that area that Alan named." She refused to call it the Firing Zone. It just sounded so stupid.

"Thanks Marcie." Pandora leaned over the communications officer and sent out a signal on 601.5 megahertz. "....- ...--"

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

SS Peake August 14, 2161

Asteroid MC-773Δ

Alan was nearly in his fighter when the signal came on 601.5 megahertz. Translated, it simply said "43." Their normal signal was translated as 44. It meant 'I love you.' This signal was an invitation to call. He quickly reviewed all the message traffic received while they were decelerating, and it was quite a bit. Another ship was hit and this time they got to "see" the pirate attack. Four small, extremely fast freighters pulled up to the SS Odysseus Nash minutes after it was hit by something moving at outrageous speed. While the Odysseus Nash was reeling from the impact, the pirates pounced. They killed the crew, tore open containers, and took what they wanted, leaving the wreck of the Odysseus Nash to drift.

Alan Scarlett sat in the cockpit of his F-733, impatient to get going, but first he had a call to make. Finally, a familiar voice filled his headset. "Captain Vermillion." Of course, as commander of a heavy bomber, her address was Captain regardless of her rank.

"Captain Vermillion, this is Colonel Scarlett. How are you doing dear?"

Relief surged through Pandora's soul to hear his voice. "Uhhh... it's been a mad house."

"I could imagine. I just wanted you to know that I finished reading all those messages that came in while I was asleep. Wow. I was buried, but I knew where to file them." Alan was letting her know he had finished studying the message traffic and had prepared a plan. "Hey, instead of vacationing in Arizona, let's do Maine this year, I want to see the seacoast." That part was thrown in to make the whole call sound innocuous. They had been to Arizona twice, and he said it reminded him of Mars. He really wanted to go see Maine's seacoast.

"Yeah, we can do Maine. It sounds wonderful." Despite everything happening around her, Pandora couldn't help but smile. Maine? Where did that come from? What a nut!

"Ok, it's a date. We'll talk when I get home. Love you."

"Love you too."

Alan disconnected the call and sighed, then turned to Eris, who was sitting in the navigator's seat. "Are you ready Madam Scrapper?"

"Let's get out of here," said Eris, who was not enjoying the experience at all. Flying in the U-700 was bad, but this was worse. The F-733 fighter was cramped, it was filled with switches, knobs, buttons, and displays of all kinds. Even the buttons had buttons. She looked at the throttle levers and they were covered with switches. The control stick had about eight buttons and switches, and as Alan performed the pre-flight checks, his hands danced over the switches like a ballerina. She ached to go back to her little freighter.

"Ok, on three..." Their canopies suddenly slammed closed. "Two..." the moment he said 'two' they dropped through the floor of the freighter like a rock. "One!" suddenly all four engines fired, and they shot forward, the belly of the freighter passing just inches over their heads. They quickly sped up, charging towards Asteroid MC-773Δ attempting to catch whoever was inside the old mine off guard.

They decelerated just as hard and ended up placing their fighters in Station Keeping mode just outside the entrance of the Rocking Bird Mine, an old, played out deuterium mine. He and Eris got out of their fighter and were joined by several other Berserkers as they entered the large airlock. With the atmosphere stabilized, they entered the mine proper and found that they were in a maze of tunnels with side rooms and side tunnels everywhere.

Just as Eris was about to ask if Alan had a plan, they heard a heavily accented voice. "Winston? Is that you? I made coffee!" They turned a corner and found themselves in a kitchen confronted by an old, bearded man in a cardigan sweater, scarf, sweatpants, and neon green fuzzy slippers. He looked up and saw the six berserkers and smiled. "Ah! Visitors! I can make espresso!"

The old man was so excited to have visitors he chattered insistently for nearly a half hour before he would begin answering questions. "Who are you?" Alan finally asked.

"I am Doctor Franco Aldini. And you?"

"I know you..." said Alan. "Professor at MIT+ (Mars Institute of Technology), I was in your theoretical geometry class."

"Yes, and you? Do I know you?" asked the professor.

"I doubt it, there were a hundred students in that lecture hall. I am Colonel Alan Scarlett of the Western Alliance..."

"Scarlett, Alan B. of... Bradbury Canal, am I right? I knew your parents... terrible tragedy. That was when I was still a doctoral candidate, but I would sit in on your father's lectures just to bask in the brilliance of his logic."

"I never got to hear his lectures; I was ten when my family was killed."

"In spite of being deprived of your parents wisdom you have become successful Naval officer. And here you are," said Dr. Aldini. "Why are you here?"

"Because you're here. Why are you here doctor?"

"I do not know..." the old man muttered. "I built a device and it worked. Winston Scarver brings me here and tells me to make my device more powerful. It does exactly what it was designed to do, how could it be more powerful?"

"And what does your device do, Doctor Aldini."

"It generates a field that makes any object placed inside that field..." he looked from face to face, excitement glowed on the old man's face. "... stop!"

"It makes things stop..." said Eris.

Alan thought about what Aldini said and rolled his eyes upward. "Oh my god," he muttered.

"See? He gets it!" said Aldini with a grin.

"I don't get it," said Eileen.

"Stop?" asked Eris. "As in Stop, stop?"

"Si!" said Franco Aldini. "Complete and total stop."

"Holy shit!" cried Eris. "What is the relative velocity of something in that field?"

Alan was trying to run calculations through his head. "Million? Million two miles per hour?"

"Much more than that," grinned the old man.

"I still don't get it," said Eileen.

"I think I do," said Terry Wilcutt, a hot young navigator turned pilot. "Say you're on earth and this coffee cup comes to a stop. The earth is spinning at one thousand forty miles per hour, so this coffee cup would appear to fly off at over a thousand miles per hour. Am I right doctor?"

"Si," said Franco Aldini. "But that is just the start."

Terry closed his eyes and thought, "You're right. There's more."

"The earth circles the sun at 66,667 MPH," said Alan. "And the sun moves forward at 43,000 MPH. The sun orbits the milky way at 483,000 MPH, the Milky Way orbits the universe at 1,300,000 miles per hour."

"That's about 1,900,000 miles per hour, 530 miles per second," said Terry.

"That's right!" said Dr. Aldini. "I had built a demonstration where a billiard ball would enter the field and punch a hole in two inch thick steel, and a wall."

"Billiard ball?" asked Alan. "Every shot-up ship we've found had a fifty seven millimeter hole through it. That's the size of a billiard ball."

"Winston Scarver, he has no imagination," muttered Dr. Aldini. "I used a billiard ball as an example. He somehow believes that is the primary bullet."

"Did Winston Scarver make steel billiard balls?" asked Alan.

"Si," Dr. Aldini nodded sadly. "My device, it was not to be used like this!"

"Doctor how was it supposed to be used?" demanded Eileen.

Dr. Aldini paused for a long time. "Research?" he shrugged.

A scooter soon departed the Rocking Bird Mine carrying a very nervous Dr. Franco Aldini in a poor fitting environment suit, while the half dozen Berserkers (including Eris) scoured the mine, looking for bits and fragments of Franco's work. A second scooter remained outside the mine entrance and soon was loaded down with computers and filing cabinets full of notes. Dr. Aldini liked to work on paper and Plexigraph boards.

Deep in one of the shafts they found in a side chamber a dentist's office with an antique chair, an antique work stand with lights and lines for water and air, and an antique dental x-ray machine. "Grab that!" said Eris.

"Why? The damn thing is bolted to the floor," complained Navigator Gene Trinh.

Eris was looking over Alan's shoulder at the notes he was leafing through. "That's the device."

"He told me that Winston has the only device out on his ship," said Eileen.

Alan compared the dental x-ray to the notes they discovered. "He clearly lied." He turned to Eris and said, "What else do you suggest taking?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Alan patted the top of her helmet a few times. "You're the world's greatest scrapper. You have an eye for things."

She led them to another chamber. In there was a tool room filled with hand and power tools of all kinds. These weren't leftovers from the mining days, these were new, high-end professional series tools. "Grab everything here. These are all top quality tools in zero g toolboxes."

"These are all Navy tools. They're all etched for..." Gene squinted at the tool. "What's NSS CV 419?"

"That's the brand new carrier NSS Kincheloe," said Alan. "It's still at the yards being built." He rubbed his forehead and wondered how these tools ended up here. Were they from a container ship that Winston Scarver shot up? "What else caught your eye, Eris?"

"Rockets." She revealed another side chamber and there were racks of SIM-54A missiles (SIM = Space Intercept Missile) Alan counted them up and there were two dozen missiles.

"Ok, I want all of our alert birds carrying those missiles."

"We don't have the launchers for them sir," pointed out Chris Ferguson.

"The launchers are over here," said Eris, "along with interconnect cables and interface modules."

"Crap," muttered Alan as he wandered through the galleries. "All he needs is a few fighters and he..." The next gallery he found contained two F-733H fighters, the Super GunSlinger. More powerful engines, long range avionics, quad fifty cal guns, internal bomb bay. They weren't the fastest, and they weren't atmosphere capable, but they were deadly. "How the fuck..."

"Damn," gasped Eris. "this guy..."

Alan bounded up to the cockpit and checked out the interior. "It even smells new."

"How do you know? You have your helmet on," insisted Eris.

"Trust me. I'm a pilot. Chris! You and your nav get in here." Soon Chris Ferguson and Gene Trinh were in the cockpit of the other Predator and the hangar doors were coming open.

"Can we go for a spin boss?" asked Chris.

"Stay on my wing," said Alan and he hit the magnetic landing gear release and his F-733H released from the metal floor of the hangar, then using directional thrusters, he edged it outside. Once free from the hangar that was carved out of the colossal rock, Alan pointed his nose toward Saturn and cracked open the throttles.

"I don't think this is a good..." Eris said, but then she was slammed back into her seat.

"WAAAHOO!" cried Chris Ferguson as they dodged and weaved through the asteroid belt and eventually burst into the clear. Laughing with the joy of spirited flying through the obstacles of the asteroid belt, Alan spun his tail around 180 degrees and threw open the throttles, slowing to a stop and heading back into the asteroid belt.

Eris sat next to Alan, her pale skin even paler, her eyes wide in terror and excitement. "Should we go again?" asked Alan. And she nodded yes.

"Oh man, this is the stuff!" He trained his guns on everything, but his rounds counter showed he had no ammo loaded, so gunnery practice would have to wait. "Berserker Control Berserker One. Two to recover in hangar one."

"Roger, Berserker one," replied Lieutenant Colonel Tyler Hague, the only other Space Force veteran in the Berserkers.

"Wait till you see what the boss bought me!" said Chris on the radio.

"You boys are... boys," said Eris, shaking her head.

"It's all about the toys," said Alan as he slowly eased his ugly fighter into the hangar. The GunSlinger, with its side by side seating and oval view screens, was described as a wingless frowning dragon fly. He and Chris sat their ships down at a rakish angle and shut them down while the hangar boss ran his fingers over the skin of the fighter.

"Is it for me boss?"

Alan laughed at the spaceman, "If you can keep up with it, Chief."

"A damn H model," gasped Chief Petty Officer Bryant. "The fleet doesn't even have these. I'll have to start downloading tech data."

"You do that chief, because we're keeping these."

"How?" asked Chief Bryant's assistant, Petty Officer, third class Karen Johansen. "How did you get them ahead of the fleet?"

"The ancient rule of the sea," said Chris as he reluctantly eased out of the cockpit. "Finders keepers."

"Petty officer Karen," said Alan as he patted the slab side of the powerful machine of war, "It's not getting that's the problem, it's the keeping."

"He stole them," Eris nearly shouted.

"I stole them from a thief, which makes that a legal purchase, right Petty officer?"

"Right sir!"

"You have them all hypnotized, that's got to be it," said Eris.

"Maybe just a little bit, ma'am," said CPO Bryant.

"We'll be backing up to the hangar door on the back of this mining asteroid. We need everything not bolted down brought aboard, and the stuff that is bolted down needs to be unbolted and brought aboard."

"Aye Aye sir!"

They worked for hours, dragging everything they thought would be useful or evidence out of the mine and stowing it securely in the SS Peake. The Peake had an enormous belly and even with two brand new fighters on board, there was plenty of room for more. "Long range scan shows someone approaching," said the Captain of the Peake on Alan's headset.

"Thanks Elliot. Everyone, back on the boat!" called Alan and his crew quickly grabbed the last few items and headed for the Peake. "Section chiefs, I want a good role call and I want it now. We gotta shit and git."

"Shit and git?" asked Eris as she rummaged around in a case of rations that they just liberated. They liberated about 25 cases of MEALS, PREPARED.

"It's Navy talk, you wouldn't understand it."

Eris tore open a pouch that promised to be STEW, BEEF. SAVORY, and inspected the contents. "Sissy says you like these," and she sent an individually wrapped portion of fruit cake sailing slowly toward Alan. Just as it reached its midpoint in its journey, the Peake opened her throttles, and the fruit cake made a hard turn and rocketed through the spacemen and slammed against a bulkhead.

"I get it now!" cried Eileen. The fruit cake zipping through the briefing room illustrated Dr. Aldini's device perfectly. The fruit cake was relatively motionless, and the world was racing past it. A perfect example of Dr. Aldini's device.

"Yar!" came the response from a few of the spacemen. They just cleaned out a pirate's treasure chest. They were now the pirates! Alan let the troops enjoy the moment, but they soon headed off to their bunks.

Alan sat down at his terminal and made a list of the items they liberated from Scarver, using the notes his crew gave him. Then it was a quick review looking for duplicates and by the time he was done, his eye was getting blurry. After a couple of hours of cataloging their take, he saved the document to the network folder, then to a removable drive, and then he sent a copy of the list to Pandora.

It was then that he realized that the room had rotated. Many rooms in the crew portion of the SS Peake rotate with acceleration and deceleration to make the deck down and the chairs useful. When coasting, which was most of the time, they all rotated to a horizontal orientation. At that moment they were increasing speed, so the handholds on the side of the main hallway were now a ladder. Luckily, being the mission commander, his bunk was close to the briefing room. He climbed down the ladder in the dimmed hallway, and he found that a light was on in his bunk. He slid in and found that Eris was in his bed and was reading a novel. Alan was still wearing the underwear he had on after turning his environment suit to life support, so undressing for bed merely meant pulling off his socks and his t-shirt.

"Pandora isn't mad," said Eris as she read.

"Mad about what?"

"Us."

"What 'us' are you talking about? There is no 'us.'"

Eris waited for Alan to get under the covers and said, "Most women would be angry if they found out that their husband was in bed with their sister. Naked."

"I'm not naked," said Alan.

"I am," said Eris. Alan sighed and pretended that he didn't hear her say that. "It's healthier to sleep naked you know," she continued.

"Your sister tells me that all the time," said Alan.

"So why don't you?"

"There's... bits missing, and I prefer to keep that covered."

"Am I making you crazy?"

"Nah. Your sister beat you to the punch years ago."

"Pandora said she was going to divorce you when she got back from a three year deployment and you weren't there to meet her."

"I was in a medically induced coma."

"Well... she knows that now."

Alan sighed. "What do you want?"

"Snuggle with me? We got gravity and it doesn't make sense to waste it.

"Come on, kill the light," groaned Alan. In the darkness he pulled her close and they spooned, and she was right. It was a shame to waste perfectly good gravity. They were both asleep in minutes.

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

JSS Friedensbringer, August 17, 2161

Asteroid MC-773Δ

The Friedensbringer slowly edged up to the big hangar doors on Asteroid MC-773Δ and the crew was in a foul mood. The machine parts they found on the Odysseus Nash were just that, machine parts. Factory seconds that were on their way to Deimos Steel Works to be melted down and recycled. The surviving members of the crew of the Odysseus Nash put up a spirited fight and Winston Scarver lost five good men. Six if you count that brain dead replacement helmsman.

Winston was in a foul mood by the time they got back to the Rocking Bird Mine on MC-773Δ, and his reception there didn't improve matters. First, the hangar doors wouldn't open, so they sent a scooter with a couple of maintenance technicians around to the personnel entrance. Slowly, the hangar door opened, and he saw the hangar was empty! Both Predator fighters were gone!

"Where the fuck are my fighters!" he demanded over the radio net.

"That's just part of it sir." His second in command stood in the middle of the empty hangar floor.

"WHAT?" Winston Scarver floated into the hangar and glared at the empty hangar like the ancient warrior god Patton surveying the dead at El Alamein.

"Sir, the entire mine has been vented, we have to haul enough air back here to pump it up and that will cost a fortune."

"Shit!" Winston threw a checklist he was holding. It hit the wall, and the rings broke, and the hangar was full of individual checklist pages floating free. "What else is missing?"

"Everything of value, we were cleaned out. They even took the food and water."

Winston floated through the mine tunnels, poking his head into chambers as he passed, but he was only interested in one chamber. He looked inside and there was the reclining dental chair and the work stand, but the device that looked exactly like a dental X-ray was gone, and so was Dr. Franco Aldini.

Everything was gone: money, equipment, tools, oxygen, water, food, and his precious fighters. They climbed back onto the Friedensbringer and gathered around Winston. "Percy, log into one of those fighters and see if you can fuck them up."

"Will do boss." The communications specialist sat down at a terminal and, using bootleg Western Alliance software, he found he could ping the fighters. "They're not far, boss."

"Do it, fuck them up."

Percy typed furiously but everything he tried failed, and soon he was locked out of the fighters and couldn't even ping them. "They know that trick, boss. We're completely locked out."

"SHIT!" shrieked the angry pirate. "Give me the goddamn microphone." Percy set the radio to the 'calling frequency' of 121.5 megahertz. "I know you're out there; I know you're not far. If you return my things to me I may not kill you."

On the SS Peake, the tiny bridge was packed. The moment that Winston said that over the air, the entire crew of the SS Peake and all Berserker personnel broke up laughing. They were listening in the briefing room and the laughter made that office sound like a comedy club. "There it is sir, you called it! Ten minutes after you shut down remote access on the fighters he's on the air freaking out."

"Shit," groaned Eris, and she handed her grinning brother-in-law a twenty-dollar bill.

"Thank you ma'am" said Alan. Then he grew serious. "Ok, gang, we are now on radio silence except for encrypted ship to ship conversations in the fighters, and data dumps to Berserker Momma," said Alan Scarlett. "Until we get this guy in chains, we are off the air."

On the NSS Naha, the radio operator said, "Ma'am, you need to hear this."

"Put it on overhead," said Pandora.

By this point, Winston Scarver stopped pleading. "...and when I find you I am going to cave in your head, rip it off your neck and skull fuck you! You son of a bitch! I'm coming for you!"

"Oh god, what did my husband do now?" groaned Pandora in a combination of anger and pride.

Winston was unstoppable. "I will find you! I will kill you! You are going to rue the day that you fucked with the Scrapper!"

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NSS Naha, August 19, 2161

Martian Orbit

Two F-733 Predator fighter/Interceptors eased up to the NSS Naha and sent a quick electronic signal instead of a voice message. The doors of the cavernous aft bomb bay opened, and the fighters slowly eased their way inside the bomb bay. A half dozen maintenance personnel helped guide the fighters into the bomb bay, then rolled them upside down and locked them in place. There were already two fighters in the bomb bay, ready for action. Since the biggest, baddest bomber in the Western Alliance fleet wasn't being used as a bomber, it was now, like the SS Peake and the SS Garriott, an undercover carrier. There were now four Predators in the aft bomb bay, and two in the forward bomb bay, and four mounted in the aft bomb bay of the NSS Krakow.

"A marine assault vessel," said Alan as he entered the maintenance bay. In the maintenance bay were all the fighter pilots who had recently left the SS Garriott and joined up with Pandora's bombers. The reunion with his fliers from the SS Garriott involved a lot of back patting and storytelling. The big thing was the disbelief at what they did. "We took a moon!" gasped one young flier that had recently joined Scarlett Water Services.

"We took two moons," said Alan. "In thirteen months, we're going to take another one about four kilometers in diameter. We're going to need every engine you're using right now, plus whatever we can dig out of Jezero lake."

"How are we going to do that?" asked a navigator.

"Let me introduce you to Eris Carmine, she's vice president of Scarlett Water System's Asset Recovery Division, and she'll have a foundry of her own on Mars and will be working with rare and precious metals. I was thinking in Bova 12." Bova 12 was a small circular crater with high walls near Jezero Lake.

Eris smiled and waved nervously at the confused men. Like Alan, they were sure that she was Pandora, with a new hairstyle. Just as she was about to say something, the bulkhead door opened and Hector Tubbs entered, followed by Pandora. "Attention on deck!"

"As you were," said Pandora and she floated into Alan's arms. Regulations be damned, she was going to kiss her husband. A quiet cheer went up as their lips met. God, how she needed that kiss. "Thank you for your guns," said Pandora between kisses.

Alan moved the fighter unit from the SS Garriott to the NSS Naha and the NSS Krakow because he was worried about repercussions to Pandora and her crew from Winston Scarver. They picked up enough chatter about "That scarlet bitch," while Scarver searched desperately for Alan and the equipment and funds he stole.

"Ok, these are our orders. Fighters here on the Naha will be using the call sign Scarlett, those on the Krakow will be using the call sign Vermillion. You are all employees of Scarlett Water Systems, not the Navy, but you will be taking orders from my favorite marine. Your priority is to protect Mars, her people, these two ships and the people in them. Copy?"

"Yes sir!"

"Ok, Eris, would you like to say something? Eris?" Eris was kissing Staff Sergeant Alex Rodriguez and her answer to Alan was an extended middle finger. "Ok, we can talk later. Eris, Chris, Gene, and I need to get some sleep. We have to get back to the game as soon as possible."

"Fliers and maintenance people!" called Pandora. "Oh, five thirty launch for Colonel Scarlett and Lieutenant Ferguson, then we'll talk. Until then, you will be shown to your bunks."

They left it to Staff Sergeant Rodriguez to bunk down the new crew members of the Naha. Alan and Pandora only had eyes for each other as they drifted to her wardroom. "It's tiny," Alan whispered as Pandora latched the door and a marine stood guard outside.

"It's just me in here," she said.

"You and the kids," he said as he looked at the half dozen pictures of Anna, Little Wally, and Gerry that grace the back of the entry door. On the Peake Alan has a bunk, his pictures of the kids were on a tablet. Alan was suddenly overcome with an unreasonable terror.

"What's the matter?" she asked, as she helped him out of his environment suit.

"I have to go back and kill that guy, I..." He looked at a photograph of Anna and Little Wally holding a brand new little brother. "I'm so afraid..." He was shuddering almost violently.

"Shhh..." She finally got him out of the environment suit, then she smoothly removed her uniform and they cuddled together naked, zipped up together in her sleeping bag. They held on to each other like it would be the last time. "You're afraid of failing and he'll somehow get me or the children."

"That's the terrifying part, having to live without you."

"I'm scared too," she whispered. "After this your uncle can get his own security."

Reassured by each other's touch, they both drifted off into a deep, soul satisfying sleep interrupted only once to make love then drift back to sleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, they gently washed each other with moist cloths (known as a zero G bath) and kissed each other sweetly as Pandora's yeoman served them breakfast. During breakfast, they floated naked, holding each other, maybe for the last time. "I'm not going to ask you to be careful," said Pandora. "Be my Popeye. Popeye never lets me down."

"You're so sweet." As Alan finally pulled on his environment suit, the yeoman came to collect the breakfast things. "When are you leaving sir?" asked the Yeoman, a very plain looking blond woman. She claimed to be a Martian, but native born Martians are usually taller and slimmer.

"Oh eight hundred," said Alan. "We're going to make a fast run back to Rocking Bird and finish this up." That was the same time he told Eris.

"It's four thirty in the morning, you're up awful early," said the yeoman, but Alan just waggled his eyebrows and pulled a naked Colonel Pandora close. He was still nibbling her ear when the yeoman left.

"Lock her up."

"What?"

"Why is a yeoman interested in a classified flight schedule?"

Pandora realized she should have kicked herself. She let herself get "mushy" just because Alan was here. "You're right. Damn it." She pulled on her flight suit, and they left her suite. "Sergeant," she said to her guard. "Have Corporal McDaniels detained for questioning, ASAP."

"Yes, ma'am."

The marine guard muttered a few words into his collar radio as Alan and Pandora floated off to the bomb bay area with the guard following. "Ma'am, security has Corporal McDaniels in custody. She had just sent off an encrypted radio message."

"I hate it when you're right, Popeye."

Just then, Eris approached. "You were going to leave me behind, weren't you."

"Yes," sighed Alan. It wasn't any sense lying to her. Her scrapper skills weren't needed anymore. Now it was a game of watching Winston Scarver to see where he hid his treasures in the Asteroid Belt.

She put on her helmet. "Let's finish this."

With a kiss to Pandora and Alex, Alan and Eris drifted up to an F-733F that was brought there from the SS Garriott. The only reason they were on the Naha was to transfer the F-733H ships to the Garriott's flight team. He didn't want Winston Scarver to get his hands on the H models; they were just too potent.

Soon Alen and Eris were in their ship, Chris and Gene in theirs. The bomb bay doors opened, and they were catapulted straight down. A quick roll and they were rocketing back to the area of the Asteroid Belt now known as "Rocking Bird."

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JSS Friedensbringer, August 20, 2161

Asteroid MC-1408Θ, Eagle Claw Mining

Winston Scarver was sure he had that bastard that stole his ships. His little spy on the Marine bomber let him know that the famous Captain Scarlett was the one on his tail and he planned to leave the bomber at oh eight hundred and attack him and he specifically said, 'at Rocking Bird.' At maximum burn, that would put him and his men back in the hunt at twenty-one hundred, nine pm. Scarver was aching to use the two new F-733H Predators that his supplier sent to replace the ones that Scarlett stole, but he had a buyer for them.

At seven PM he spread out all four whaleboats, with the Friedensbringer's guns trained on the most likely path of approach, and waited. In two hours, he would have his prey. Nine PM came and went, with no sign of Captain Scarlett. They waited past midnight and gave up. Even search radar showed nothing moving between them and Mars. "Lets pack it in." Winston turned to his first mate and said, "Let's head back to Eagle Claw."

"Aye aye sir," said his first mate.

"Have you heard back from Vinston's little friend?" asked Nadia, a Russian whore Scarver brought along for amusement. To Nadia, 'Little friend' meant the chubby rat on the NSS Naha that kept them up to date on the movements of the fleet.

"Nothing since this morning."

Soon they approached the Eagle Claw Mine and Winston Scarver had an especially bad feeling about this. All the exterior lights on the mining facility were turned on. "Oh no, it can't be... not again..." They approached the big, abandoned mine and found the guards missing.

The Friedensbringer used its universal docking port and docked at the old mine administration building, and entered the facility. "Check the air," said Scarver. The last time, Scarlett dumped the entire atmosphere from his mine.

"There's good atmosphere in here sir," said a pirate and they took their helmets off and soon heard a banging noise. They floated to the source of the banging and found all their guards were tied up and locked in an office.

"Check the safes," ordered Winston.

"They're clean, every one of them."

"Son of a BITCH!" shrieked Winston. Those safes were full of currency of all types, along with ingots of pure gold, silver, and platinum.

"All the ammo is gone," said another pirate. Winston dashed to the powder magazine and found that the cases of space rated .50 caliber ammunition were gone, as were the two dozen SIM-54A missiles.

"Are the F-733's gone too?" groaned Scarver.

"Yes sir."

<><><><><>

Pandora was trying to unwind in her stateroom. She had a squeeze bottle of tea and a stack of dispatches to read. Pandora couldn't concentrate, she hadn't heard from Alan at all, and she was worrying about him. She's never going to get any sleep like this. Suddenly, the intercom came to life. "Ma'am, we have some radio traffic you may want to hear."

"Put it through."

Soon the angry voice of Winston Scarver crackled over her speaker. "SCARLETT! I'm talking to you! I'm going to get my Predators back and then I'm going to make you pay. What the Eastern Bloc did to your scrawny Martian body was nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you... do you copy? I want my new fighters back! ANSWER ME!"

There was a long pause, then she heard her husband's voice. "If it's any consolation, the sync between the guns on those new H models was all screwed up. It took us an hour to fix it."

"Thank you," she said to her intercom, and she sighed groggily, turned her light off and slipped into a deep restful sleep, happily knowing that Alan was up to his old tricks. He was ok.

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NSS Naha, September 3, 2161

Martian Orbit

"Permission to come aboard," said Admiral Hilmers.

"Permission granted," said Colonel Vermillion, and she saluted Admiral Hilmers and Captain Lutz as they came aboard. The admiral and the captain looked around the bridge in awe as Pandora welcomed them aboard the Naha. The lighting on the bridge was gentle, and the people on the bridge spoke softly and professionally. Unlike a carrier, the bridge on this bomber was the Combat Information Center, and at a glance Admiral Hilmers and Captain Lutz could determine the full status of her operation.

"We like to think of the Naha as a hole in space. On the Naha and the Krakow, we try to be as electronically silent as possible. We can hear other ships out there, making their electronic noise, and if we can hear them, they can surely hear us, if they knew how."

"What do you think Dennis?" asked Admiral Hilmers.

Captain Lutz had a look on his face like he found a cat turd in his oatmeal. "Are you sure this is Navy? The Navy doesn't sit and hide like snipers, waiting to strike at the moment of weakness. The Navy is iron ships and iron men. Ready at a moment's notice in all types of weather, fair or foul. This... thing is not Navy."

"What say you Captain?" said Admiral Hilmers with a grin.

Pandora kept her calm. She thought again of Little Gerry smiling at her, his crop of carrot colored hair just beginning to come in, his mirth filled green eyes. He's going to be a handful soon! Finally, she turned to Captain Lutz and said, "This is a Marine bomber. Our job is to kill in the most efficient means possible. We only parade around and swagger at award ceremonies."

"You are so related to your father," muttered Admiral Hilmers.

"Have you caught the scrapper yet?" demanded Captain Lutz.

A marine handed Pandora a report that she reviewed before answering Captain Lutz. "We have stopped his attacks on civilian shipping, it's just a matter of time before we have him trapped." She signed the report and handed a copy back to the marine. For a long moment, the only sound on the bridge was the whir of cooling fans on the different components, and the rip... rip... rip of the crew's Velcro boots as the crew moved around the Velcro carpeted bridge.

Captain Lutz shook his head and sighed, then addressed Pandora as if he was lecturing a petulant child. "My dear Captain Vermillion, I regret to inform you that the pirate that is known as The Scrapper is actually your twin sister Eris Carmine!"

Pandora merely chuckled and said, "Good one Dennis." She thanked the marine orderly for the report and turned to a plexigraph map and circled large asteroids in the asteroid belt. "We have located and neutralized three caches of weapons and equipment here at Rocking Bird mine, here at Eagle Claw mine, and here at the Amundsen and Sons mine. I don't think the Scrapper has discovered his cache at Amundsen has been cleaned out."

"How big is this operation?" asked Admiral Hilmers.

"It's a lot bigger than we expected. And the ties into the Eastern Bloc is incredible, even though he's attacking Western Alliance shipping, most of the currency we've confiscated has been Eastern Bloc." She drew circles around three large asteroids. "We think he has more coaches here at United Lithium, here at the Pendulum and Pit mine, and here at Dragon Rider."

"It sounds like your sister has been busy," said Captain Lutz.

"Indeed, she has Captain," said Pandora proudly. "Alan says she is coming along in her training and should be fully qualified to pilot the F-733 and ready to take the Navy pilot's examination in a week or two."

"You're training a pirate to fly the Navy's most potent spacecraft?"

"Well, yeah. She is an employee and company officer of Scarlett Water Systems. She's the VP of Reclamation but she hasn't played pirate since we were little girls."

"Have you heard from Berserker One lately?" asked Admiral Hilmer, interrupting them.

"Yes and no. I haven't spoken directly to him in almost a week, but we have heard his people speaking over an encrypted channel. So far they have four new Predators in their possession."

"New Predators?" The admiral grinned. Alan was famous for heading to Saturn with four F-733s and coming back with a moon and five F-733s.

"Yes sir, H models. Here's the serial numbers. These were supposed to be delivered to the NSS Kincheloe in Lunar orbit once her outfitting started, but somehow they ended up in an abandoned mine in the asteroid belt with a full set of maintenance tools and test equipment."

"That's just bullshit," swore Captain Lutz. "Your husband is clearly lying to you hoping to get more money for this contract. Four F-733 H models. Preposterous!"

"He is using four, but he has captured six. Two of the H models are in my bomb bay," said Pandora quietly. When she said that, Captain Lutz went white. "He's using the other four that he found against the scrapper Winston Scarver... Isn't he a nephew of yours or something?"

Admiral Hilmer nudged Captain Lutz. "Gee, I wonder how that happened. Dennis? Weren't you responsible for filling out the Kincheloe's squadrons?"

"There's a lot of questions I have," said Pandora. "Like, why should the Marine's most potent offensive weapons system be placed in a defensive posture? First thought that comes to my mind is that it takes those weapons systems out of the fight."

"Go on," grinned Admiral Hilmer. He gestured to a pair of marines who moved to Captain Lutz' side.

"Why would the offensive portion of the operation be given to a private contractor? Other than being ill equipped to handle such a mission, if the contractor gets wiped out it's no loss to the Navy and the dumbshit officer that let the contract can just shrug and say "Oops, guess they weren't ready."

"Your sister is clearly in league with..."

"MY sister has been in Western Alliance custody since JUNE, Captain Lutz. Scrapping and reselling junk she picked up was a hobby, and a way to finance the foundry she wanted to build." Pandora smiled when she saw that one of the Marines that was next to Captain Lutz was Alex Rodriguez. "Staff Sergeant, could you escort our guest to his quarters on Level One?"

"Yes Captain..." he turned to PFC Hector Tubbs and Lance Corporal Ben Smithson. "Honor guard, could you escort the Navy captain to his suite on Level One?"

"Aye aye sergeant!" grinned Ben. Level one was the feel-good name for the brig.

Once Captain Lutz was gone, Pandora handed Admiral Hilmer the report that she had signed. It was a message from Alan that listed all the 'booty' that they discovered at the Pendulum and Pit mine.

"Do you have quarters I could use, Captain?" asked the Admiral.

"Yes sir, it's little more than a bunk with a workstation."

"That's all I need. I'll be transferring my flag here if you don't mind."

"It would be an honor sir."

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SS Peake September 16, 2161

Asteroid MC-927Ω, Dragon Rider Mine

The pit at the Dragon Rider mine was big enough to hide the SS Peake inside of the asteroid. If there were a planet nearby, asteroid MC-927Ω would be a moonlet. And the dig was a massive enterprise. MC-927Ω was an immense ball of high grade iron and pure nickel, and United Steel nearly hollowed the asteroid. Convoys of ore freighters streamed from MC-927Ω, and an orbital steel plant was built nearby churning out miles and miles of I-beams and steel plate for the space stations that were being built above Venus, the Earth, Mars, the moon, and quietly built elsewhere. When the ore gave out, United Steel moved on to other asteroids that were just as rich, and the building went on without pause.

For decades MC-927Ω and the big Dragon Rider Mine sat empty and unused until pirates began using it as a base of operation. For twenty years, groups of pirates fought for control of the big hole. The problem was that it was blind. The asteroid had a huge hole which led into a vast pit where the mine tunnels and offices were located. It would be too costly to erect antennas just to communicate. United Steel had done it but then took their wiring and antennas with them when they left. The pirates used the Dragon Rider Mine as a stash, and sometimes a place to hide, but never as a center of operations.

Life aboard the Peake was usually quiet, but for the past month, tons of equipment and stolen goods were brought aboard the Peake and were quietly being unloaded into the tunnels of the Dragon Rider Mine. One tunnel was for nothing, but weapons and it was clear the idea of "slug throwers" had caught on, because hundreds of crates of space capable .50 caliber ammunition lined the walls as did crates of 20mm space capable ammo. Crates of laser pistols, rifles, and ship's guns filled one gallery, brand new computers and communications equipment filled another. Multiple types of spacecraft engines were found and stored in a side gallery.

The Berserkers were up to twenty-two F-733 spacecraft, four on each bomber, two on the SS Garriott, and twelve spacecraft here at dragon rider. The Dragon Riders were broken into six flights of two and scattered throughout the vast pit. Thanks to Winston Scarver, there was plenty of ammo, missiles, spare parts, test equipment, and tools to fly those spacecraft for a long time. Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot flights flew patrols over their local area at all times and, if needed, relayed radio signals between Alan's office and Pandora's ships. Alpha and Bravo flights tailed Winston Scarver and harassed his moves.

Whenever Winston lined up his ghost ship, the JSS Friedensbringer, to take a shot, a tight beamed radio transmission from Mars, or from a buzzing fighter/interceptor warned the ship that they were being targeted and needed to travel in an aggressive serpentine pattern.

"I'm pretty sure there's more F-733's stashed out here," said Allan at a recent meeting.

"Then why isn't he using them," asked Eris.

"Because they are for sale to the East," said Franco Aldini.

"I think we have enough to put his ass away for a very long time," said Gene Trinh. "Why don't we go get him before he hurts something big? Your other ship the Garriott should be coming into his view soon."

"Shit, you're right," said Alan. That stupid device that Franco Aldini made was an incredibly powerful "gun" except that it only shoots in one direction. What good is a gun that only aims fifteen degrees past 'north?' And with the cat and mouse game he's been playing with Scarver, he nearly forgot his company's entire reputation was on the line. The Garriott is shepherding two moons into earth's orbit and the first moon will pull on to Lagrange point 4 in two weeks. "Let's go fuck him up." He pointed to Elliot See, captain of the SS Peake. "load up Dr. Aldini and his papers, his machine, and a few example crates of the crap that we gathered and head to the NSS Naha."

"Roger that Cap. When?"

"As soon as your crew can pull out. Foxtrot flight, you escort the Peake."

"Roger," said Bob Hines, the pilot of Foxtrot Lead. Bob in turn said to his three other spacemen, "Soon as you're released, lets get our boats on the Peake and our gear stowed."

"The rest of the flights, as soon as the Peake departs the Dragon Pit we go hunting," said Alan. "The rest who stay behind needs to protect the pit. We have plenty of rifles."

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September 17, 2161

NSS Naha

"Where is he at Scope?" asked Pandora as she floated on to the bridge of the NSS Naha. She was in trousers and a T-shirt and if anyone noticed, her nipples were stretching out the fabric of that shirt mercilessly. As Alan told her once, "That's two of the things that attracted me to you." She pulled on her overshirt as she arrived.

"Captain on deck!" cried the Marine guarding the bridge entrance.

"As you were? I need to know where the Friedensbringer is and coffee. In that order."

"The Friedensbringer has been maneuvering for the past six hours, ma'am. It looks like he's going to take a shot when we pull out of the shadow of Mars."

"Damn it." She muttered. "Ok, start charging all thrusters and strap down everything that's not strapped down. It may get bumpy." She was handed a squeeze bulb of coffee. "Thank you..." she took a sip, "that's perfect."

"You're welcome."

The sound of the voice caused Pandora to pause. Then she turned. "Uncle Ray? What are you doing up here?" Standing next to her was a sweet old man with white hair and an innocent smile. It was her husband's uncle Ray Clark, the president of Mars. He looked so sweet and innocent, but his political opponents often learned too late that baby sharks look innocent, too. Ray was a shrewd politician who knew how to get things done, and he knew how to protect Mars.

"I just come up to look around. Your husband seems to like outer space so much."

She hugged the old guy, then went back to buttoning up her overshirt. "Ray, you need to go back home, in about three hours we are going to be unmasked by Mars and become the biggest target in the shooting gallery."

Ray just smiled and looked around. "Alan always said how exciting this was. Now that I'm here I tend to agree."

"Ray, you need to get back to your people!"

"I sent my driver home."

"Communications!" Pandora almost screamed. "Get Mars control and get a shuttle up here ASAP, we have a VIP that needs..."

"No," said Ray softly, but with the force of a bulldozer. "In three hours, I'm going to address Mars on how you nice people are protecting us from Pirates and opportunists. If a pirate starts shooting at us," he shrugged, "it will make great radio."

Pandora finished buttoning her overshirt, then gave Ray a hug. "Now I know where Alan gets it from," she whispered.

"They won't shoot us down," said Ray. "I'm coming for Christmas to see the kids. I have tickets!"

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September 17, 2161

Dragon Rider Mine

The men and women of the Western Alliance Navy Strike Force Berserkers were working hard to get the SS Peake prepped and ready for flight. Dr. Franco Aldini was placed in a bunk and given several books to read, and he was happy with that arrangement.

"Captain!" called a spaceman, monitoring the communications equipment. "NSS Krakow just reported that the Friedensbringer launched its small freighters. The Naha thinks that they are the target."

"Echo flight, I need you to go with the Peake ASAP," said Alan. "Catch those freighters!"

"Ok, we're going," said Bill McArthur, flight lead of Echo flight. "Come on guys." The four crew members dashed to the entrance of the gallery that their ships were parked in. After checking helmets and gloves, they piled into the airlock and were soon at their waiting fighters. While the navigators strapped in and started going over the preflight checklist, the pilots did a quick review of the exterior of the Predator before climbing in and starting engines.

"Echo Lead is hot."

"Echo two is hot."

Bill McArthur grinned. "Ready or not, here we come!" Both fighters shut off the electromagnets in the landing gear, retracted their landing gear and eased out of their chamber. Once the large hole over the Dragon pit was visible, they speeded up easily before reaching the immense hole. Once free of the Dragon Rider Mine, they opened their throttles and chased after the Peake, which was ten minutes ahead of them.

Eleven minutes later, six F-733 fighter/interstellar interceptors flashed out of the gap in the moonlet left by United Steel. The fighters fanned out looking for a ghost ship that contained the world's most powerful gun that couldn't be aimed.

The eight fighters that remained behind soon took off and scanned the asteroid belt with their search radar at full power. They didn't care if someone saw them coming or not, with the training that Alan Scarlett had given them over the course of the last month, they could out-fly anyone.

"Alpha Lead, this is Scarlett control."

"Go ahead," replied Alan.

"NSS Krakow reports that Friedensbringer's small freighters have left the asteroid belt and are heading toward Mars."

"Thank you Scarlett Control. Contact Naha and Krakow. Tell them I want Scarlet and Vermillion flights on cockpit alert."

Without warning, Pandora's voice came on the air. "Here's a present for you sissy." Their ship's navigation system started downloading data from the NSS Naha.

"Thank you sissy," said Eris.

"Sissy?" asked Alan.

"We called each other that when we were little," said Eris as she leaned forward and studied the map that appeared in front of her. "It drove mom crazy." She rotated the map a little, then began highlighting objects. "Here's the Friedensbringer, here's us. We have to hustle; he's starting to move into the clear for his shot."

"How much time do we have?"

"Not enough."

"Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, on me!" He kicked the throttle open; they were in a 2G acceleration in an asteroid field, radar blazing, the ship jinking side to side to avoid asteroids.

"Still not enough," said Eris softly as she watched the map with tear-filled eyes.

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September 17, 2161

SS Peake, en route to Mars

The men and women of Echo and Foxtrot flight spent the speed run to Mars in their cockpits. No one likes five Gs of acceleration for long periods of time. In fact, most sane people don't like more than one G of acceleration for any amount of time.

"Target coming up on the right. Gulag Class freighter at full burn and she's not answering our hails."

"That's us," said Bill McArthur, Echo Lead.

"How is that you?" asked Foxtrot Lead, Bob Hines. "We were here first."

"It's my side of the Peake."

"You two better figure it out fast or I will launch the bunch of you," said Elliot See, commander of the SS Peake. The acceleration burn stopped and the release from the acceleration felt like hitting a brick wall.

"You choose," said Foxtrot Lead.

"Take it Echo Flight," said Elliot.

"You got it. Echo two, follow my lead." Both fighter's canopies snapped closed, and the ships dropped. They hung tight to the belly of the SS Peake until the Peake had blown past the small black whaleboat. That's when Echo Lead and Echo Two spun around and matched speeds with the Gulag freighter. "Drop your landing gear and reverse direction," ordered Commander Bill McArthur.

Instead, they saw that the pirate freighter started warming up their laser emitters and chose not to take the risk of letting him get a shot in. Both Berserkers each fired about ten .50 caliber shots at the laser emitters, knocking them out of service.

"Drop your landing gear and reverse direction!" ordered Commander McArthur. However, the fast freighter kept coming. "Damn it," hissed Bill, and the two Berserkers shot up the small freighter's engines, then quickly returned to the SS Peake before the whaleboat experienced an 'unscheduled rapid disassembly.'

The two F-733's recovered in the maintenance bay of the SS Peake for post-flight inspection and ammo loading. Bill sat off to the side, staring at his shaking hands, and his navigator sat next to him reviewing the restart checklist. Their wingman, Sue Hadfield, was known throughout the squadron as a heartless bitch. She stood in front of Bill, who fought down waves of nausea. "First kill?" she asked.

Bill nodded and continued to stare at his trembling hands.

"Some guys celebrate their first kill at the club with wild parties. Other guys put their guns in their mouth and shoot their heads off. You need to find something in the middle." And she walked away.

Bill looked at his navigator, who asked, "Should I go kill her?"

"Nah. Not this time." They climbed into the cockpit of their ship and waited for Echo two to be finished before they could move back to their ready/alert position.

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September 17, 2161

JSS Friedensbringer

The Friedensbringer twitched and jerked as Winston Scarver aligned the 'gun' with his intended target. The NSS Naha will emerge from behind the planet Mars soon and it will be his. "Vhy do you vant that ship so bad Winston?" asked Nadia, an Eastern Bloc whore he picked up on Luna Prime.

"Because his bitch commands it. I want him to understand what you lose when you fuck with Winston Scarver. I spent years building this enterprise..."

"Three years," Nadia said. "Und it vas built on bribes and graft."

"You can get out and walk," he snapped as he attempted to line up his shot. "Which G has a view of the target?" he called on his radio. Scarver found out that he needed eyes on target. He can guess using radar, but at these great distances he relies on the whale boats seeing where the shot went. He opened the door and prepared to generate the field. It was hard to keep in mind that his projectile was not moving. Once it hit the "Dislocation Field" (that's the name Nadia came up with) the projectile stopped while the universe continued to move in a relative way on a specific course, and it was Scarver's job to put the projectile in the correct position so the target would collide with the motionless projectile. The projectile was completely motionless, and the universe moved at two million miles per hour past it.

"G2 has eyes on target."

"Where are the rest?" demanded Scarver.

"Dunno, they should have been here before me, I had an inverter breakdown."

"Are you sure you sent the letter to Clark?" asked Winston Scarver.

"Da! I sent letter demanding he cede his position as president and you vill not bomb Mars."

The side panel of the Friedensbringer opened. It was originally a door that was used to ferry injured patients onto the hospital ship, but Winston Scarver has changed its use. The Dislocation Field Generator was simplicity in itself. To use it, he swung the field generator out, and it shined a field onto a piece of felt covered slate. An angled tube of PVC pipe was bolted to the generator's stand and all he had to do was shove a ball down the tube. The ball came out of the tube and hit the field on the piece of slate and immediately it was receding at nearly two million miles per hour.

"Here we go," said Winston. He put a steel ball in the tube and then, with a wooden dowel, he shoved the ball down the tube. It emerged from the other end of the tube and touched the slate and disappeared. "Anything?" he yelled into the radio.

"No, I think you hit Mars... yeah... you were high and to the right by a couple of feet."

"Shit." Winston had a control panel that allowed him to adjust the position of the Friedensbringer. You couldn't adjust the aim of the Dislocation Field Generator, you had to reposition the field generator. It was the universe that guided the projectile, not the gun.

"Here comes number two..." He put the steel cue ball into the PVC tube and gave it a nudge with the wooden dowel. It gently floated out of the end of the tube, then, tapping against the slate, it disappeared.

"HOLY SHIT! You shot the high gain antenna off the top of the ship!" laughed the lookout on the whaleboat.

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Inside the NSS Naha, alarms were blaring, and communications were falling apart. Ray Clark stood motionless next to Pandora's command chair, his Velcro boots holding him in place. Standing on the other side of her command chair was Admiral Hilmer. He did nothing to interfere with Pandora's handling of the situation, and he showed no emotion. His face was stoic, but he was proud of the captain.

"Sergeant! Seat Mr. President and buckle him in!" said Pandora. She normally doesn't shout, but she had to be heard over the blaring of the sirens and the voices of her people as they worked through their surprise.

"Yes Ma'am!"

"You need smoke, darling," said Ray softly.

"I don't smoke. Your nephew likes an occasional cigar but..."

"Darling, this guy's a moron, he's aiming by sight," said Ray.

"How do you know?" She looked at the President of Mars, who now had a Cheshire cat grin.

"A very dear friend sent me a letter describing his operation."

Pandora looked out the front view port and saw the huge dish antenna slowly drift off to space, turning end over end... smoke... where can she get smoke... didn't Alan talk about blocking somebody's view with clouds?

"Scarlett Flight Lead, this is Naha bridge, do you guys have smoke generators?"

"No ma'am" said the pilot hanging upside down in Berserker one in her bomb bay. "But if we dump water into the engine it will spray out as steam and will freeze immediately into a cloud. It's kind of a party trick, we only use it for displays on Memorial Day..."

"Go, do it! We need a smoke screen! Hide the front of the ship!" Pandora turned to her weapons controller. "Emergency Armed Release!" she called. To the bombardier, that only meant one thing: empty the bomb bays. He hit the EAR button and more alarms added to the cacophony of alarms and shouting. The immense bomb bay doors snapped open, and like missiles, the F-733s darted out ahead of the crippled Naha and began dumping water vapor. Each Predator only carries twenty gallons of water, but it was enough... it had to be.

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"Here comes number three," said Winston.

"Hold on," said G2. "The target is obscured. The antenna disk is blocking my view, and now... smoke clouds?"

"What do you mean smoke clouds?"

"There's several fighters in front of the bomber pumping out smoke. I can only see a white cloud."

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September 17, 2161

Strike Force Berserkers Alpha Flight Lead

Alan and Eris were exhausted. They had been bouncing and dodging through the asteroid belt for over an hour, their suits, helmets, boots, and gloves held magnetically in place as the ship automatically dodged asteroids and other rocks. The inner lining of their suits inflated, holding them tightly. Despite that, it felt like being tossed into a tumble dryer with three dozen bricks.

Finally, the ship snapped around backwards and the throttles opened wide, giving them 9 Gs of deceleration. They were crushed into the backs of their seats and shaken viciously as the fighter roared to a stop. Alan shook his head and looked around and he realized they were under the Friedensbringer looking up at the corroded and dented belly of the ship. Alan could see right above him that the side was open, and he saw a metal arm sticking out, ending in a square foot of slate. That was the target piece of Aldini's field generator.

Alan connected his 'external' pack containing 30 minutes of air and a 'puff pack' for directional control and opened his canopy. He drifted upward and realized that someone was above him. He searched the suit to suit frequencies and heard the voice of Winston Scarver and an Eastern Bloc woman. "Dahlink. You can't see where you are shootink. Wait for your eyes on the scene to let you know vere your shotz are going." To Alan that woman's voice was familiar, he's heard her before. But instead of trying to figure out who it was, he drifted up behind Scarver while he argued with the woman.

"That could be all day!"

"Scarlett vill nefer get here, he is, how you say, shell shocked from Venus Prime."

"He's a dried up turd and I'm going to fuck up that bitch of his. That red headed cunt will never..." Scarver never finished that statement. Grasping the edge of the door with his left hand, Alan grabbed Scarver's helmet with his right hand and pulled back as hard as he could. Alan was hoping to snap his neck, but he didn't yank the pirate's head hard enough. However, he yanked him hard enough for his boots to lose their magnetic grip. Scarver was pulled off his feet, and he drifted helplessly toward his Dislocation Field Generator. His helmet hit the piece of slate and disappeared, taking his head, neck, right shoulder, and arm with it.

Eris watched the decapitated body drift over her head and thought again about staying in the fighter, but she followed Alan up and found him shutting down a field generator like the device they found at the Rocking Bird Mine. Alan saw her peer over the edge of the deck and held up five fingers and she tuned to suit frequency five. There was a woman there complaining to Alan. "I thought you vould never get here."

"Eris this is Nadia Volochenko, she's a friend of the family. Let's call her a Western Alliance operative, Nadia this is Eris Carmine, Pandora's sister."

"Dorogoy (darling) Alan and I are old lovers."

"No, Nadia and I are merely old," corrected Alan, and he noticed that Scarver's body was drifting off into space. "Somebody should go get that..."

"I ain't touching that," said Eris.

Alan pulled the hunting knife out of the leg sheath and a laser pistol out of his hip holster. "I have to go forward and take over this ship single handedly, you could at least go put a leash on Scarver's remains."

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September 17, 2161

NSS Naha

A loud BANG! rang the ship like a bell, and more alarms started blaring. "We been hit!" someone yelled.

"We're still alive people!" called Pandora. "Work the problem, we'll have time to panic later."

"Navigation is down, radar is down, flight controls are down, IFF down, ECS down..." called the helmsman. The list of broken systems seemed to outnumber the systems that were working.

"Do we have life support?" demanded Pandora.

"Yes ma'am."

"Ok, good, that's a start." She clapped her hands and said, "We're in a stable orbit with a sister ship not far away. Work the problem people! We're marines, we'll walk home if we have to!"

"Aye aye ma'am," said her executive officer, who seemed to have awoken from a shocked stupor. "Collision protocol! Close all airtight hatches, shut down those alarms, get a list of compartments that have vented..."

To Ray Clark, this was all amazing. Orders were flying and people were obeying! Admiral Hilmer was impressed, too. It's been a long time since he was in a shooting battle. This crew was one of the finest he has ever seen. One by one the alarm sirens were silenced and the bridge crew of the NSS Naha returned to their hushed but urgent tones of voice. The grand ship was hit, but they weren't dead, and he watched in awe as Pandora's team worked to insure everyone remained alive and focused.

Ray wasn't used to such amazing cooperation. The Mars colonies were full of scientists, writers, and artists who had the same sense of community effort as a goldfish. The Marines of the NSS Naha knew exactly what needed to be done and were grimly doing it. While if you locked the average Martian in a grocery store, he would probably starve to death due to lack of initiative. "Herding cats" is not just an expression on Mars, it's Ray's mission statement.

"Ma'am," said the damage control chief, "here's a rough guestimate." The damage control chief handed Pandora a tablet with what could be best described as a CT scan of her ship. As Pandora scrolled through the rendering of the interior of the Naha, the Damage Control Chief said, "It hit us one deck below the bridge and passed through four frames and ended."

"Ended?"

"It's gone ma'am. I have a team in compartment 04-02-14 and they report a hole on the four frame wall, but the five frame wall is covered with... organic material and pieces of plastic." The chief went on about the damage done to the nose radome and the electronics in there. The nose is filled with instruments and almost everything that the ship depends on for navigation and war fighting was tucked under the radome. It was hardened against meteorites, but not against objects moving at two million miles per hour.

"What the hell did we hit?" Pandora muttered aloud.

"Ma'am, it's the Peake, it's a..."

"I know the Peake," said Pandora. "Put it on the overhead."

"SS Peake calling NSS Naha. Do you copy Naha?"

Pandora frowned. When she heard Peake, she immediately thought that it would be Alan, but she recognized the voice of their radio operator. "Go ahead Peake, this is Naha."

The voice of the captain of the Peake came over the speaker. "Captain, we are inbound to your location and stand ready to provide all aid and assistance."

"That's great news Elliot." Pandora sighed and glanced up instinctively at the speaker. Sometimes the sound of a friend's voice is a big help. "We need a little help, I have four of your fighters and I can't put them away."

"I can find a place to put them. We also have a Gulag class freighter in tow. There were four of them but three didn't answer our request to stop."

"That is an immense relief Peake, thank you." From what they saw of the Friedensbringer's operations, they won't shoot without a whaleboat on scene.

She looked up and saw that the fog the fighters put up was dissipating, and she saw something else. "What's that on the windshield?" Calling the forward view ports a windshield was a joke of course, the Naha will never feel the wind, but something was smeared over the view port.

"It's frozen," said the chief engineer.

Ray got up and moved forward until his nose was almost touching the view port. "It's blood," he said softly. He turned and looked at Pandora. "You ran somebody over."

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Alan picked his way forward. At one time, the Friedensbringer was a proud ship, but after decades of neglect, she could barely hold her atmosphere. The pirates had removed dozens of bulkheads to make room for whatever booty they could cram into the ship. "How many people are on the ship right now Nadia?"

"About..." she paused and counted in her head. "Five."

"Five pirates? That's not too bad."

"No, that is five total, including us. Bridge crew could not be problem."

"Where is everyone else?"

"Vinston vas not people person," said Nadia. "He had retention problems vith crew. His management method vas shoot now, ask questions later. So, ven they attacked a target, entire crew got on vhaleboats just to get away for a while."

"Whaleboats? Is that what they were called?"

"Da."

"Good description." Just then, he found the bridge and stepped into it. The bridge was amidships and protruded from the backbone of the ship like a fighter cockpit. The bridge was filled with state of the art navigational gear that was crammed into cabinets that weren't designed for it. In the end, the bridge looked like an electronic enthusiast's basement.

Two haggard looking men were strapped into office chairs that were bolted to the deck. The original furnishings and fixtures of the Friedensbringer were stripped out decades ago. "Good afternoon," said Alan. The two remaining crewmembers turned and looked at him with a tired expression on their faces. Alan continued. "This is your captain speaking. We will be departing for Earth in just a little bit as our last minute passengers board and get their baggage stowed. In the meantime, relax, plot a course for Earth, and try not to piss me off."

The two men turned back to their instruments. "Aye aye sir." This wasn't the first change of command they had weathered. When you're a pirate, you get used to it.

One by one, the F-733's of the Strike Force Berserkers were manually pushed into the Friedensbringer's cavernous mid bay and the side door closed. Once the fighters were locked down, the Berserkers started poking around the ship. There were storage compartments full of 'booty' but it looked like the primary cargo on the Friedensbringer was posters of naked women. They were plastered on the walls everywhere.

They got underway, and Alan sagged into the captain's chair, a standard earth model recliner. He strapped in then said, "Raise the NSS Naha for me, I need to speak to their captain."

"Yar." Alan allowed the pirates of his crew to speak like pirates. "Arr, the captain of the Naha, matie."

"This is Captain Vermillion of the NSS Naha," came Pandora's voice. Her voice was filled with the strain and exhaustion of the past hours.

"This is Captain Scarlet of the JSS Friedensbringer. This ship is under Western Alliance control and heading inward to Earth. I now declare this mission is over." At those words, the bridge crew of the NSS Naha broke into loud cheering and high fives.

"Bless you Captain Scarlett," said a nearly weeping Pandora. "You sometimes say the sexiest things."

"How are you doing ma'am, do you need more help?"

"No, thank you captain," said Pandora. Her voice was a sigh of relief. "We have all the help we need. Do you have Winston Scarver in custody?"

"Most of him. There was an issue with his device and some bits of his body got launched in your direction." Alan could hear her crew roar with laughter. They now knew what the organic material splattered on the wall below the bridge was - Alan Scarver's brain. "I've got to get back and turn this thing over to the Navy, then we have a shipment of water inbound."

"Don't forget to pick up the kids at my mother's house," said Pandora.

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Epilogue

Retired Admiral Wally Schirra stepped out of his cabana onto the sun warmed beach of the South Pacific. Palm trees swayed in the breeze and the water of the Pacific was glassy and calm. He turned and took Estelle's hand and led her out on to the beach. They had just finished an afternoon of lovemaking that left them both dizzy and in shock at the passion they could still experience. It was like being a teen again. Estelle had taken after her daughters and began wearing nothing more than a sarong, her breasts were still beautiful at her age and Wally took extra care insuring they were always protected with sun block.

The court martial of Captain Lutz, an old pain in the ass, was over and Lutz barely escaped being executed for treason. But for stealing entire weapons systems and selling them to the Eastern Bloc and pirates through Winston Scarver, he was going to be in prison for the rest of his life. Gunny Bannon, the man who tried to kill Alan, Pandora, and Eris in the Camp Schmitt hangar bay, testified that Captain Lutz blackmailed him into trying to kill Alan and Pandora. Also, Colonel Antonina Matrona Markov of the Peoples Space Force testified that Captain Lutz requested a "live fire" testing of new anti-laser goggles by an Eastern Bloc ship on the U-700 carrying Alan Scarlett and his wife, causing the blinding of the pilot Commander Dom Russo.

Yes, Admiral Schirra endangered both of his daughters and his son-in-law to get Lutz imprisoned and Winston Scarver's operation shut down, but it was worth it, and this tropical Christmas holiday was proof of that.

"Grandma! Grandpa!" cried Little Wally as he dashed up to them. He held up a seashell and said, "I caught a clam!"

"That's a good one!" gushed Estelle. "Are there anymore?" With a grin, little Wally dashed back to the shoreline, his feet slapping on the wet sand at shore's edge. His grandparents eased into lounge chairs, and a waitress handed them a cool drink from the bar behind them.

"Ahhh, this is the life," sighed the retired admiral.

"What, the private beach? The private bar? Or the topless Polynesian waitress?" demanded his wife.

"All of it."

"I like this whole get together thing," said Alan. He was sitting in the warm water at shore's edge with Pandora and Gerry. There were tiny minnow size fish in the water and the year old boy was trying to pick one out of the water, but it would dart away, and he would fall on his butt trying to grab it. His antics made his parents laugh, and Gerry reveled in the laughter. "What do you call this gathering again?" Alan called out.

"It's called a Destination Wedding!" groaned Eris. She was lying on a beach towel next to her parents, while her husband of four days, Alex Rodriguez, was rubbing suntan lotion into her pale skin. Their niece Anna tried to help and was pouring the lotion on Eris' back.

"Why do you keep doing that to her?" asked Pandora.

"Because I like hearing her say it." Little Wally snatched Alan's sunglasses off his nose, then crouched and peered into his dad's new bionic eye. Then, with a squeal of laughter, he ran off. "Give me my sunglasses back!"

"Why do you make her say it?"

"Because the whole time we were out there she was asking me, 'why did you guys get married? You were free!' and 'I'm never getting married; my freedom is worth more to me...' yadda yadda yadda. I couldn't get any sleep."

"I was not like that," said Eris. "And you're the one keeping me up all night composing love letters to Commander Sassy Pants."

"I'm pretty sure you were," said Alex. "Or should I read a few of the emails I got? And what do you mean he kept you up all night?"

"Yeah!" said Pandora, glaring at Alan. She actually knew that Eris had climbed into Alan's bunk night after night because she was alone and terrified.

Eris propped herself up on her elbows. "Why did you split Alex and me up like that?"

"I needed Sergeant Rodriguez at the top of his game," said Pandora. "We knew that before our third orbit of Mars you two would be banging on my cabin door, saying 'you're captain, you can perform weddings, right?'"

"You guys are awful."

Ray Clark and his new wife emerged from the trees and watched the interplay between the generations before sitting down in beach chairs next to Admiral and Mrs. Schirra. Little Wally ran up to Great-Uncle Ray wearing his daddy's sunglasses and held up three seashells. "I caught a clam!" then dashed off again, accidentally kicking sand in Aunt Eris' face.

"You're as bad as your father kid!" called Eris.

"This is what family is all about," said Uncle Ray as his new wife, his dear old friend Nadia, gave him a kiss and a topless Polynesian girl served him a drink.

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The device in this entire story was based on a device I found in an ancient scroll that I read while I was in high school back in the early 70s. The novelette, The Billiard Ball (AKA Dirty Pool) by Isaac Asimov was in the anthology The Best of Isaac Asimov, and was my favorite story in that collection. The story kept the machine in a pool room and a character used it for exacting revenge. What if it got in the hands of a dumb crook rather than a brilliant bta book that I almost memorized.

I read the works of great writers like Heinlein, Harrison, Haldeman, Howard, Vonnegut, Anderson, C. S. Lewis, Sturgeon, McCaffrey, Ellison, Card, Pohl, Bradbury, Clark, Orwell, Herbert, Le Guin, and the Very Best Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams long before there was such a thing as a Science Fiction club. No, reading these great works was cause for immediate classification as a geek, a title I hold proudly.

The adventures of Alan and Pandora continue in Episode #3, Captain Scarlett, Martian Envoy