Operation Diablo 

Prologue
     
     Verdun. He had been pulled out of his post to visit this place, a hidden base of operations for the newly formed Pirate Empire. An empire, that’s what they were calling it. They had won the battle on the Defensive Rim, most recently taking Old Corellia. And it was a great victory. He chuckled to himself as he walked down the hall. Having killed so many in that battle, his squadron, no, the entire fleet had noticed his abilities and the list of nicknames was endless. Still, he couldn’t help but enjoy being called ‘Diablo’. That’s why he was here, he supposed. Maybe the Grand Admiral Anion felt like rewarding him for his troubles. He was almost laughing aloud when he rounded the corner and stopped. The smile slipped from his face. Standing tall in front of him was the Grand Admiral himself. He had only seen him once before, and it was on a monitor. All he really remembered was his voice, humanoid, with a bit of an accent, and an electronic undertone. Now he was looking up at him; The Admiral was a lot taller than he had originally thought. Anion spoke first. “Ah, there you are Commander Helson. I was just about to go to your quarters and drag you out.” Helson knew he was trying to scare him, but he thought he saw actual steam coming out of his mouth. Anion continued. “You haven’t forgotten about our little meeting, have you?” 
     Helson struggled to find his voice again. He swallowed before speaking. “Of course not,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I thought the meeting was scheduled for 700 hours. It’s only 630 right now.”
     He could feel those green eyes piercing into his, but he did not look away. He half expected Anion to grab him by the throat and pound him into the nearest wall, but when the Admiral spoke, he seemed completely calm. “I see,” he said. “Well something’s come up. I have to be leaving the planet sooner than I expected.” Helson said nothing, so Anion continued. “I have a proposition for you Commander.” Again, Helson said nothing. “I hear you did exceptionally well in the Battle over Old Corellia.”
     “I guess I did alright.”
     “Over fourty kills. Yes, you did alright.” Anion pulled out a small LCD data pad. “Numerous pilots just like yourself reported a potential problem. Did you happen to notice this ship?”
     Helson took the data pad and looked at the image, a side view snapshot of what was apparently a fighter. It was an interesting ship, with a Federation color scheme. It definitely wasn’t a design of theirs’ though. No, he had never seen a ship like this before. He answered honestly. “No, I didn’t.”
     “The pilot is known only as the Red Baron. Nobody knows his true identity, but he must be dealt with before he becomes too big of a… problem.”
     “And let me guess. You want me to take him out.”
     “Yes, the reward will be… substantial.”
     “What kind of ship do I get for this mission?”
     “You will get a specialized Cutlass prototype. A bit larger than the normal Cutlass. Just enough to house the hyperdrive, and it should give you more than enough firepower for this mission. However, the ship must be tested first, in a real combat situation.”
     “Tested? Where?”
     Anion let out a low laugh. “The one place that won’t expect an attack so soon. Their pilots are mostly inexperienced, but they’ve been giving us trouble on the shipping routes lately.”
     Helson looked up at Anion, confused. “The Commerce Guild?”

Chapter 1

     “All personnel are to report to designated locations immediately.” Jason rolled over and cursed. It was 500 hours, and this was supposed to be his day off. The computer simulated female voice went on to say there was an important announcement, code 111. Locations for such an event were assigned to everyone, the very day they started working for the Commerce Guild. He had quickly gotten dressed and reported to his assigned location, the Central Command auditorium. Now he leaned back to relax in one of the suede couches outside the doors, and listened to the hum of speeders passing by outside the window. Commerce Guild Central Command was a round building in the center of the Interstellar Commerce Guild headquarters on Palanthar, one that housed a large arena-like meeting room, and an equally large command center underneath. The buildings around the central command housed all the pilots and military staff of the Commerce Guild fleet. Overall, their facilities took up a vast amount of land, with shipyards, docking bays for cruisers, landing platforms and warehouses for fighters. And every section of it was constantly growing as the organization itself tried to become a strong military power. 
     Jason was early, and the doors to the auditorium hadn’t opened yet. True, he didn’t have as far to walk as some did. Another five minutes, and people started showing up. Lower-ranked officers and pilots gave Jason a small nod or salute, saying “Sir…” in a way Jason might’ve spoke to his superiors if he was in a rush to get somewhere. It wasn’t long before the lobby got crowded and the doors opened, allowing people to take their seat inside. Jason got up and followed the crowd, taking his usual seat halfway down the steps. The same seat he had been sitting in when Admiral Kranson gave the announcement that the Commerce Guild would be throwing its support to the allied factions. This, of course, immediately resulted in increased attacks by the Pirates. Since then, there had been hardly any rest for fighter pilots, with all the escort missions they had to take. And they weren’t easy missions. The Pirates were making an effort to disrupt the movement of supplies throughout the galaxy. Still, everybody here knew how important shipping was, and that it had to be protected at all costs so that supplies could reach the Federation, and all other factions opposing the pirate war machine.

     Dave Beckley entered the room and immediately spotted Jason. The two had been friends for years, back to their days of working as smugglers. At one point, they had a group of five experienced pilots in their privately run smuggling band. After a dispute over cash, they all went their separate ways. Jason and Dave hadn’t seen each other until they met here, on Palanthar. It was a strange twist of fate, that two smugglers would end up meeting here of all places, working as pilots for an organization that was completely against smuggling. He chuckled at the thought. Of course, the two immediately forgot their differences. After all, that had been a long time ago. “Any idea what this is about?” he asked, taking a seat next to Jason.
     “Nope, they haven’t told us anything,” Jason said, coming out of a daydream. “Whatever it is, it’s got to be important.” He pointed up to his right. “Cameras… they’re transmitting this across the planet.”
     “This have something to do with the war?”
     Jason just gave him a look, the kind that said “What do you think?”

     The room was packed with people by the time the Admiral showed up at the podium, He was nervously stacking his papers… a prepared speech? The crowd silenced after a few seconds. “As you probably know by now,” he began, clearing his throat. “The Federation recently lost possession of Old Corellia, and the pirates have won the battle on the Defensive Rim.” There were a few murmurs in the crowd. This news must have come as a shock to the few people who hadn’t been watching the Holonews lately. It was, after all, public knowledge that the Defensive Rim campaign was lost. The pirates had even taken control of the Federation Holonet, one of the various news channels that Palanthar received. “It’s all out war, and no one’s safe now.” The room slowly darkened, and a holomap arose from the area behind the podium. Thousands of digital stars and planets circled around, taking up a large area above the projector itself. They were looking at a very wide-angled shot of the known galaxy. The Admiral hit a button on the podium, and the view quickly zoomed in on a more specific region of space. Clearly visible was the Meteo Fields, and after a second, a shaded region appeared outside the Fields. Gold letters labeled it as the Defensive Rim. And there, in the upper left corner of the display area, another name appeared and the planet of Palanthar was labeled. There was a large and fairly empty region of space between Palanthar and the Defensive Rim area, but another second passed, and about fifty gold specks appeared across this stretch of space. The admiral motioned to the map. “The gold specks designate various radar outposts littered across this stretch of empty space. For the most part, these are automated… with no human personnel aboard. Reports have confirmed the disappearances of four outposts.” Four of the dots turned red in sequence, each one getting closer to Palanthar. There was some more talking in the crowd. Everyone stopped when an almost totally scrambled transmission came over the speakers. A few words were easily recognizable. The source ship was under attack. “Large pirate force” was just barely audible before the message cut off completely. The Admiral continued. “This message came from a lone private transport in this area shown on the map.” Another area was highlighted, this one closer than ever to Palanthar. Everyone knew where this was going now, as conversation and shouting erupted throughout the auditorium. Kranson didn’t bother giving any more detailed remarks. “They’ll be here by 1200 hours! Ships are already prepared. Specific directions have been sent to your rooms’ computer consoles! Report to your posts and await further directions; Good luck!”

     Jason wasn’t really surprised. He knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. If he had to give his opinion, he’d say that when it came to military strength, the Commerce Guild was more than capable of handling the pirates. In the end, however, experience was where they were seriously lacking. Most pirates had been fighting all their lives in space. While the I.C.G. had plenty of veteran pilots, they were  outnumbered by inexperienced pilots, either fresh out of military flight school, or only in action for six months or so. The cadets were, of course, deemed qualified in all screening processes, but even the best simulator couldn’t depict the true nature of war. Hundreds of cruisers pumping FREEM and turbolasers into each others’ hulls, explosions sounding through the dead of space as hundreds of people are disintegrated at once, enemy fighters screaming in from all sides, people you knew and ate a meal with that morning being shot down to your right and left. Jason had been there. He could only hope that the newer pilots would hold their own against the battle-hardened pirates.
     As he entered the turbolift at the back of his building, Jason looked out the window. The lift took off, the individual windows that rose up in front of him connecting into one steady image. It was almost like watching one of those ancient film reels he had seen in museums. The entire area outside was bustling. There was a sea of people in the streets, all rushing to get to their destinations. Beyond the few smaller buildings were the hangars and the shipyards. Fighters weren’t leaving the hangars yet, but the huge cruisers were lined up with their engines started. There were far too many to count, but the rows of individual ships stretched on and on to the horizon, and as far from left to right as the turbolift windows would permit anyone to see.
     Finally, the lift slowed and Jason was on his floor. He ran to his quarters, threw on his flight suit, grabbed his helmet and rushed back to the lift. He was on the street in less than a minute, and he was surprised to see how organized everything was. There were shuttles lined up, each with a sign saying where they were headed. Jason went into the nearest one, and sat down. He noticed there were mostly cadets on this shuttle, and they all looked nervous. The one sitting next to him looked like he might throw up. Jason tried to think of some kind of advice, something to at least boost the kid’s confidence. Nothing came to mind though. Except the overwhelming thought that if every cadet was like this, the I.C.G. was in for a rough battle.

Chapter 2

     How do you organize an entire fleet in a matter of hours? Tell them that an enemy is on their doorstep, and hope everything can come together in time. “Take us up and out lieutenant.” Admiral Kranson gave the order aboard his Nova Class Assault Cruiser, the Blue Dawn. The vibration of the quickening engines rang throughout the bridge as the cruiser slowly lifted off from the ground. 
     “Landing gear up sir,” the helmsman reported after punching a few buttons on his console.
     Kranson punched in the global comm. channel. “Remaining Novas follow us out, Ventors close behind.” His voice was raspy after all the talking he had done in the past day or so. He stood up from his chair and looked out the viewports. Thousands of cruisers were rising from the surface. He looked up at the standardized clock. 1100. They were cutting it close. 
     The Blue Dawn was exiting the atmosphere now. The projected angle of attack was on this side of the planet. It made sense, considering the HQ was just below. Just in case, a reserve force was assigned to the other side, where the planet’s largest spaceport was located. Kranson knew the small force wouldn’t be able to hold out if the pirates decided to attack the spaceport, but risks had to be taken. And the Commerce Guild just didn’t have enough ships to safely cover both locations. All they could do now was wait. Minutes went by, until Kranson noticed some activity over at the comm. officer’s station. “What is it lieutenant?” 
     She hit a button and the transmission was onscreen. A captain Kranson didn’t recognize was speaking. “We’re under attack, heavy damage,” but before he could say anything else, an explosion erupted behind him and the transmission was cut off.
     “Damn it…”
     A few seconds passed. “Enemy ships coming in.” Kranson turned his gaze to the viewports and sure enough, pirate cruisers were dropping out of hyperspace. Mephistopheles, Bloodsuckers, Sparrowhawks, and others came. Squadrons of fighters dropped in behind and quickly overtook the slower, but more powerful, strike craft. The Commerce Guild’s own fighters were just exiting the atmosphere. Kranson didn’t waste any time. “Turbolasers, sweep through those fighters! Take down as many as you can before our squadrons arrive.” The order rang through the gunners’ earpieces below deck and brilliant flashes of blue laser-fire swept through the squadrons of pirate fighters, taking out at least half of them. The ICG Viper squadrons met up with the remaining cutlasses and the dogfight began.

     Jason’s Skylon squadron was climbing from the atmosphere when a wing of Harrowers made it through the onslaught above. “Break formation, don’t let them reach the ground.” He dodged the laser fire from the nearest fighter and pulled his Skylon into a quick corkscrew. The harrower shot by and Jason brought his fighter in an arc to follow him. The pirate was heading for the HQ building below, and the anti-aircraft guns might not get him. Jason pushed the throttle to full and was pulled into the seat as his fighter rocketed forward, heading straight after the enemy fighter, and towards the ground. The pirate was good. The anti-aircraft guns were firing away, and the harrower was dodging perfectly. The targeting computer was locking on. Four kilometers from the ground. The computer locked on. Two kilometers. Jason pushed the button on his control stick and the concussion missile swiftly blew out the rear of the fighter. The guns below quickly locked on and chipped away at the ship until there was nothing left. Jason pulled back on the controls and arced back up towards space. His squadron had already been backed up by some Vipers and they had made quick work of the remaining cutlasses. More were coming in though, and Jason knew the Skylon Class fighters were needed in space. The Vipers were better in atmospheric conditions anyway. “Skylons, form up. Vipers, take care of things down here. We’re going up.” A few commanders radioed in, acknowledging. Ten Skylons followed him. One had been shot down.
     Jason brought his squadron up and into the vacuum of space. He could feel his fighter speeding up as it exited the atmosphere. There was no air resistance up here… the resistance was the thousands of pirate cruisers and pirate fighters. The Commerce Guild was being overrun. “Alright, split up into your groups. Protect the cruisers, and watch your backs.” The squad acknowledged, and then splintered off, three to each group. Jason cut the throttle to a half, allowing his wingmen to catch up. He then pushed it to three fourths and dove down towards the nearest Ventor Class Frigate. A few shots from Nova turbolasers streaked through his flightpath. He turned his head just in time to see a pirate cruiser explode to his left. Leveling out on the top surface of the Ventor, he targeted a strafing cutlass and took him out with a few well-placed shots. 
     A Farstrike Missile Corvette came into view ahead. The targeting computer in Jason’s Skylon was already locking on. “Come on…” he mumbled to himself. He was keeping an eye on the pirate vessel, but it was steadily turning its nose toward his squad. And then, a series of flashes went off from below the ship. “Break formation! Missiles coming in!” He pulled up and narrowly missed the upper spire of the Ventor. His wingmen saw the pirate ship launch its projectiles. One broke off to the right, the other broke off to the left. The ten missiles tried splitting but ended up crashing into each other. Three made it out and it wasn’t long before they caught up with Jason’s left wingman and pelted him, finally reaching the reactor and blowing the fighter to pieces. Jason cursed. One wingman dead, and too early in the battle. “Everything alright?”
     “Fine, Commander,” the remaining wingman answered. “Wait, three harrowers coming in.”
     “Split up, see if we can separate them.” 
     Jason pulled his fighter into a left turn and checked his radar; all three followed him. “You’re not takin’ me down that easy.” Jason pushed the throttle to full, and headed for the nearest cruiser battle. About ten pirate cruisers were ganging up on an I.C.G. Nova up ahead. 
     He leveled out on the surface of the Nova and targeted the Lying Bastard up ahead. He fired two missiles at the midsection and followed up with a barrage of laser shots. It’s shields had already been weakened by the Nova’s turbolasers. An explosion erupted and next thing Jason knew, he was flying between the two pieces of the ship. He checked his radar. One of the harrowers disappeared; a piece of debris must have seen to that. Suddenly the two remaining fighters disappeared, and were replaced by three more Skylons. “Thought you might need some help, commander,” The voice of Beckley crackled over the comm. 
     “I thought I had everything under control,” Jason said, grinning. “But thanks.”
     Jason joined up with Beckley’s squadron and took a few seconds to look around at the battle raging over the planet. It was impossible to tell who was winning, so he punched a few buttons on his console. Within a few seconds, statistics began scrolling across the screen. “Pirate Cruisers remaining: 20 247, Pirate Cruisers destroyed: 1 089, Guild Cruisers remaining: 8 127, Guild Cruisers destroyed: 834.” Following the cruiser statistics, approximate numbers of fighters scrolled across the screen. It seemed like the Commerce Guild was holding it’s own, but the pirates would beat them with sheer numbers. Whoever planned this attack knew exactly how many ships to send. This, after all, was not the entire pirate armada. It was only a fraction of their full strength, but it was still enough to outnumber the Commerce Guild’s growing fleet.
     A light blinked on Jason’s radar, signaling that one harrower was on his tail. “I’ve got this one,” he said. Beckley’s squad acknowledged, and Jason broke out of the formation. As expected, the harrower followed. Jason juked to his right to avoid a few shots, and then hit a few buttons on his console, engaging the rear weaponry. The Skylons were all fitted with two rear concussion missiles and an extra auto-targeting system for the rear. It was one of the reasons the Skylons were under limited production; the added technology added cost. Keeping one eye on the radar, he watched the rear targeting reticule turn from green to red. He punched the button on his control sticks and watched as the concussion missile plowed into the front of the pursuing fighter. A brilliant blue explosion erupted and was immediately snuffed out. Jason shifted back to the main weapons system and brought his fighter into a steep climb, over the nearest Nova. Locking onto a Lying Bastard, he fired two more missiles at its engines and tore at its hull with his laser cannons. With its shields knocked out, the Nova’s turbolasers blew it to pieces with a few well-placed hits.
     He was just passing the bridge of the Nova when a lone Cutlass crossed his path. Jason pulled the throttle to a half and brought his Skylon into a tight left turn. He pushed the throttle to a little over three quarters and shot after the Cutlass. Strange, he had faced Cutlasses before, and they usually weren’t this fast. He gave his fighter a little more throttle, trying to close in on his target. His computer finally locked on, and Jason fired. The Cutlass lazily moved to the right, avoiding the shot, and then accelerated into a steep dive. Jason followed, trying to stay as close on his tail as possible. Somehow, he felt like he recognized this pilot’s style, the way he moved, the way every maneuver was calm and calculated. He shook it off as a coincidence, and followed the Cutlass as it corkscrewed to the right. It was then that Jason noticed a few missiles clustered on each side of the little fighter; definitely no normal ship. Suddenly, his target cut the throttle. Jason pulled back to compensate, ending up closer than ever on the Cutlass’s tail. Just then, the little fighter went into a tight upwards loop, shooting past his Skylon.
     Jason checked his radar, and the ship he was chasing a second before appeared behind him. He pushed the throttle fully open, and sped off between a couple of Farstrikes, the  Cutlass hot on his tail.

     He had him. A quick loop and he was right behind the Skylon. No doubt, this guy was skilled, but against Diablo, there was no victory. Helson followed the Skylon through a pack of Farstrikes, cursing as they missed the real target and nearly hit him. This guy had guts. Helson hadn’t seen reckless flying like this since, well, before he was a pirate. He finally got a target lock on the fighter. As it was banking to the left, he let loose a flurry of shots, two of which pelted the rear of the ship. It’s shields held though, and the pilot quickly rolled the ship to skim the rough belly of the nearest Nova. Helson brought his ship around to follow and gave it a little more throttle. To his surprise, his target rose up a bit before plunging into the tangle of giant hoses toward the front of the ship. If that Skylon could fit, his Cutlass could fit. Slowing down a bit, Helson pushed forward on his control-sticks and dove in after him. It was tight, but a few seconds later both fighters had already passed under a particularly huge hose, and were shooting by the hangar entrance. A light blinked on Helson’s display, and he brought up a smaller window on his display. Text started to scroll across the screen “I.C.G. leader captured, all units are to retreat to the following coordinates.” The numbers started to scroll across. Helson punched them into the nav. computer, and focused on the Skylon in front of him as the computer calculated the jump. It was time to finish this. He gave his fighter as much throttle as he could, and the Skylon came into view in the shifting targeting reticule. It turned red, Helson engaged the concussion missiles, hit the firing button. 
     Nothing happened. There was a muffled clunk and an error message came onscreen. “Secondary weapons malfunction.” He pounded his fist on the solid wall of the cockpit and watched as the order to retreat came back onscreen. The Skylon was already out of range of his lasers, so he irritably grabbed hold of the controls and turned aside. The nav. computer had the jump calculated. Helson engaged the hyperdrive and watched as the stars became starlines on his monitor. “Next time,” he said calmly. “He won’t escape.”
Chapter 3

     Roy Kranson, Admiral of the Commerce Guild fleet, stepped over a decapitated protocal droid and continued down the hall, a guard following him on each side. They held their rifles in a ready position, like some pirateer was going to jump out at any second and have to be gunned down right there. Kranson finally reached the door to President John Van Buroon’s private room. They were deep into the complex now. No one ever thought an enemy could penetrate this deep into the Commerce Guild Headquarters, but Kranson had to admit: security wasn’t as tight as it should have been. The solid door had a hole burned straight through, enough for a person to walk through without even bending down. Kranson entered and found two guards waiting for him. “At ease,” he said after they gave their traditional salutes. “Tell me what happened here. I want to know everything.”
     One guard gave his account of what happened. Some ship with a neutral color scheme dropped off the pirate marines, who made quick work of the guards in the lobby and accessed the floor plan to find out where the president’s “safe room” was located. The pirates suffered many losses getting up here, but a small group managed to break through and cut a hole in the door while the rest held off the guards outside. By the time him and his squad had gotten here, they were gone, and the president too. 
     Kranson looked around, trying to take in every detail. It was pretty obvious how they escaped; the window was completely smashed and the cold night air was blowing in. He would’ve never thought a ship could hover next to a third floor window in that small courtyard, but apparently the pirates had found one that could. He took a step forward and heard the sound of glass under his feet. A lamp lay on the floor, smashed into two larger pieces. There was blood too, signifying that it was probably smashed over someone’s head. Turning back towards the door, Kranson noticed something he had missed when he first walked in. There was a body on the floor to the left of the doorway, a pirate marine. “He’s got a hole in his chest,” said one of the guards.
     “Did you search him?” Kranson asked, walking back towards the Guild president’s desk.
     “All he had were his weapons and a tag with an ID number. 
     “I see,” Kranson said, stooping down to pick up a small blaster by the desk. “Looks like our good president put up a good fight. He’s been taken alive.”
     He turned to the two guards. “Were there pirate fighters in the atmosphere, at the time of their retreat?”
     They seemed surprised by the sudden change of subject. “Yeah, they were all over the place. The Vipers handled them well enough. I know I saw a few shot down close to the ground…”
     “Find me one of those fighters,” Kranson ordered. He had an idea. “Have a tech crew search its main computer. If it was shot down after the order to retreat came through, we might be able to find some coordinates.” The two guards turned to leave. “One more thing,” Kranson added. The two men turned around. “Hurry.”

     The alarm was ringing. “Oh come on.” Jason rolled over and punched his alarm clock, but the ringing didn’t stop. Looking to his left, he saw a blinking light on his computer console. “What now?” He got up and touched the screen, pausing a second to peer out the window. It was still dark outside, but for the lights shining brightly on the nearby buildings. He turned to his computer screen again, and a new message scrolled across. He read it aloud. “You’ve been selected to lead a special ops mission. Report to Admiral Kranson’s office immediately.”
     Jason got ready as quickly as he could, and left his quarters just as the dawn was approaching. It was a good view from the turbolift; the orange glow on the horizon extended forward, giving way to brighter reds, until it reached the blanket of clouds covering the rest of the sky. The sun had risen a little by the time he was walking down the hallway to the Admiral’s office. 
     Jason stopped at the door and pressed a button to the left of the frame. “Enter,” a voice said almost immediately. The door opened and Jason walked in. Admiral Kranson was sitting behind his desk, reading something from his computer, probably reports from the battle. He looked up when Jason walked in. “Commander Starwind, I trust you had a good night’s rest.” 
     Jason felt like punching the guy, but he decided to let him continue. “Please, sit down,” Kranson said, motioning to a chair in front of his desk. Jason sat down and took a moment to look at his surroundings. There was stuff hung all over the large office. One of the most interesting frames had a few of the Admiral’s medals, although it was impossible to tell what they were for. On his desk was a junked nav. computer, Jason couldn’t tell what ship it was from, although he guessed that it wasn’t a Commerce Guild model. Kranson was looking at his desktop computer screen again. 
     He spoke after a minute or so. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but John Van Buroon was captured in the pirate attack yesterday.”
     In fact, Jason hadn’t heard. “Captured? How?” 
     Kranson stopped looking at his monitor and focused on Jason instead. “I’ll handle the ‘how’ Commander. Your job will be to find him, and bring him back.”
     Jason leaned back in his chair and looked Kranson in the eye. “That’s it?”
     “No. Finding the facility shouldn’t be too difficult. We have the coordinates. Our tech crew got them from this nav. computer,” he said, pointing to the damaged unit on his desk. “Intelligence reports say that they lead to a pirate prison facility, on Verdun. It’s a small moon in the Gerard system.”
     Kranson spun the computer screen around to show a somewhat fuzzy picture of the prison itself, set in the middle of the forest. “It was once Federation owned. The facility itself was a Federation research base.”
     Jason still didn’t see how they’d ever be able to fly in without being picked up on radar, but Kranson answered that question next. “We’ve ordered a Mammoth engineered cloaking device. I hope you’ll understand; it’s expensive, so we only secured one. Of course, it will be fitted to a ship of your choice. And by the way, your entire landing team will be paid a considerable amount, plus whatever gratuity the president himself decides to give you.”
     Jason had to admit; the offer was sounding better and better. His old smuggler mentality was kicking in. He was used to taking risks, and this job seemed too good to pass up. There was a few minutes’ pause as Kranson turned back to his computer console and Jason thought about everything he had just heard. “Well,” he said to get the Admiral’s attention. “I’ll do it.”