: “ Shadows on the Horizon ”

Somewhere within the Circe asteroid belt. . .

GUBW Special Operations Headquarters
During the first Alien incursion, January 31, 2681

The gloom held over from the long finished Battle of Circe still held over the system. Many Confed and Border Worlds soldiers had perished in the fight for this region. Most said that it was only the infamous Border Worlder tenacity and drive that saved the day for their hammered forces. It seemed befitting, then, that Special Operations HQ, an elite Union of Border Worlds intelligence unit that is so secret that the BW government denies that it exists, would build their primary base of operations in the Circe system as a silent tribute to the honored dead.

Colonel Justin Kugler stood on the observation platform of the base's flight deck with a contented grin on his face. The first batch of modified Banshee fighter prototypes prepped to SpecOps standard was complete. The five fighters were sitting patiently in their recovery bays, looking as if they would come to life at any moment and rip their opponents to shreds.

Kugler had been there from the beginning of the now belovedly called "Super Banshee" program; and seeing them in all their glory made him very proud. He was the one who proposed for a high tech space superiority fighter, to base it on the venerable and widely used Banshee fighter. Oh, there were the Retaliators, Jaguars, and Stalkers at the UBW Space Force's disposal, but they were costly to manufacture - why build new fighters when the many already-existing ones could be upgraded at smaller cost?

That was where Kugler came in. He had led the initial design team that came up with the Banshee modifications for Special Operations use. The advanced avionics and weapons systems used on the new Super Banshee had their first operational test during the Cynium conflict in specially modified "Manta" Centurions. Kugler was the squadron commander of the "Mantas." Now, he was in charge of upgrading and testing the specially modified Banshees for SpecOps.

The familiar whine of the platform lowering greeted Kugler's ears. He secured his helmet onto his flight suit, and calmly walked towards the waiting Banshee after his descent ended. Kugler intently inspected the smooth, dark gray skin of his fighter and made sure that there were no odd protrusions or pieces of debris on the craft. He saluted the techs that were loading his ordinance, and climbed into the cockpit.

"Run Systems Readiness Test. Bring up all systems to combat status once SRT is complete," Kugler said after pressing a special button on his flightstick.

"Colonel Kugler, SRT complete. Bringing systems online," the feminine computer voice replied.

Even with all systems powered up, the inside of the cockpit was barely visible from the outside. Low intensity displays and lights were used, along with a semi-opaque canopy, to minimize stray visible emissions. Kugler made sure that everything was operating properly, then he switched on the combat and communications computer.

"Control, this is Jaguar One. Requesting permission to launch."

The display lit up with the image of Kugler's wife and XO, Caroline. "You're cleared, Jaguar One. Good hunting."

"Affirmative, Control. I'll bag a big one for you, sweetheart." Justin grinned at the smiling image of Caroline on his VDU. The two of them had served together on so many successful missions they were nicknamed the "Dynamic Duo" by the other SpecOps people. He couldn't be happier as he hit the voice command button on his flightstick. "Full military thrust. Manual control."

The feminine voice responded, "One hundred percent power. Manual control engaged."

Justin gently guided the sleek new fighter towards the advanced short-takeoff catapult and locked it into position. Suddenly, the view of a hollowed out asteroid was replaced with stars and the asteroid belt. Kugler grunted and practiced deep-breathing exercises to withstand the initial g-forces and sudden transition from one to zero gee.

His disorientation lasted for only a second, but Justin could have sworn it must have been longer for a moment afterwards. Never in his life had he seen such an ugly looking spacecraft. It seemed almost organic in nature.

"Control, I've got something out here. I have no idea what it is."

Then, without warning, his sensor screen became filled with contacts that were closing in on the asteroid belt.

"Computer, identify unknown targets!" Kugler yelled. The AI computer started to output its reply.

"Targets are of unknown origin. High energy levels detected from nearest contact. Recommend standard greeting message transmission be sent."

The TCS Iason incident immediately came to Justin's mind. "Negative. Switch to secure channel to base." He waited for a second while the secure link was engaged. "Caroline, I have a bad feeling about this."

She immediately interrupted him. "Justin, get the hell out of there. We are getting reports from Circe. They are under attack, and it is only a matter of time before those things find us. Find the nearest jump point and leave the system."

Justin narrowed his eyes. "The hell I am. I'm returning to base. Launch the other fighters and prepare to evac. Load up as many of the computers and technical schematics as you can on shutt."

Bursts of green energy raced past the Super Banshee and its shields crackled as a few hit their mark. Kugler banked his fighter away from the purple, green, and gray craft that seemed to be spitting at him in defiance. "Okay, you bastard. You wanna dance with me?" The Banshee flipped over on its back suddenly and a full barrage of energy fire streamed from its gun ports.

The familiar sight of shield failure greeted Justin's eyes and his gun camera. That's a surprise, Justin thought, this unknown fighter had shields. That means it can be destroyed by conventional means. He smiled as he pondered his next move.

"Lock ImRec."

The computer's voice recognition software immediately selected an ImRec missile and began to lock it on the alien fighter. The engage tone sounded and Kugler squeezed hard on the trigger.

The Banshee shuddered slightly as the exhaust from the ImRec's rockets sprayed its wing slightly. Kugler watched the missile's trajectory intently and lined up to fire another salvo. A burst of white and orange light spewed forth from the alien fighter as the ImRec slammed into its side.

"Go straight to hell," Kugler said. He glared at the alien fighter as if his gaze alone could pierce it, and then squeezed the gun trigger. One last burst of tachyon energy ripped through the alien's remaining armor and detonated its reactor in a flurry of fire and debris. The  Banshee flew straight through the debris cloud as it scattered on the fighter's forward shields. He smiled, the Super Banshee program looked like a big success.

"Damn you, Justin. where are you?" Caroline said over the comm.

Justin grimaced. She must have been trying to get a hold of me while I was fighting. he thought. "This is Banshee One. I have engaged and terminated one target. How is the evac proceeding?"

The look of worry on Caroline's face was evident. "The enemy ships will be on us in five minutes. The last shuttles launch in four. How far out are you, Justin?"

"I am one minute out. Caroline, I want you to leave now. Get on the next shuttle and go. Don't stay here," Kugler said. Somehow, he knew that what he said probably was going to be unproductive.

"And leave you here? I don't think so."

Without warning, Kugler's vidcomm VDU screen pixilated and the audio scrambled. He looked up towards the base to see fires arcing out from one side of the major asteroid. "Oh shit. torpedoes. they must be firing long-range torpedoes. Computer, scan for missile and torpedo sized objects on a collision course with base."

The comm link to base returned. "Justin, we are hit! Repeat, we are hit! Life support has failed in the lower sectors and power is gone to a third of the base. Long range communications are down!" Caroline yelled over the din in the background.

"Caroline, get the hell out of there! That is an order, Lieutenant Colonel!"

"Justin, the last shuttles were hit in the recovery bays. We're trapped. All fighters are covering the retreating shuttles."

Kugler's mind began to race. "How many are left behind?"

"There are five of us. Why?"

"Pull out the MIPs and load them onto the Avenger. If you have to, put two people in each MIP. Get in the EW officer's seat and wait there for me. I'm lined up and landing."

"Justin, don't do it. The cost of that Super Banshee is more then an entire squadron. You must salvage..."

"Lieutenant Colonel Kugler, I am the ranking officer of this squadron and you are under my chain of command and by the power invested to me by the Border Worlds government, I order you to do what I say!" Phalanx yelled, as he was getting quite irritated and saw that pulling rank was the only choice he had left.

Explosions rocked the deck of the launch bay. The barrage of missiles was slowly eating away at the asteroid base and it was only a matter of time before the enemy fleet reached their position. Kugler ran from his Banshee over to where Caroline and the others were loading on the Manned Insertion Pods. Intended for covert insertion of operatives, now the MIPs would serve as life pods. hopefully.

"Where is Admiral Wright, Caroline?" Justin panted as he helped lock the heavy pod onto a hardpoint.

She looked down for a second and wiped the sweat from her face. "He was killed. He insisted on staying until the last shuttle left. It was in the elevator when an explosion hit and went right through the elevator shaft."

"Sonofabitch. Okay, the last one's loaded. Get in the pods!" Justin ordered. He and Caroline helped everyone strap in and lock the hatches, then they climbed into the cockpit of the modified Avenger, which was being used in a project codenamed "Project Ghost." A variant of the  venerable Avenger torpedo bomber, the Ghost is truly a covert operations craft. It sacrifices weapons and armor for speed, better shields, and special electronic jammers and equipment. It usually carries the covert "Blinder" HARM missile, but the infamous MIPs were loaded onto the Avenger's hardpoints.

As debris began to fall from the ceiling and the artificial gravity generators began to fail, Kugler lifted the Ghost off the deck and guided it towards the exit of the launch bay.

Caroline then started to activate the electronic systems and jamming equipment. Both Justin and she knew that the EM systems of the Blinder would be their best chance of escaping without a fight against the frighteningly overwhelming attack force. They sat in silence as the launch bay began to slowly rotate around the Ghost as it crept out into space. Justin then engaged the afterburners and fled the crippled base as quickly as possible. He glanced back out of the canopy to watch for a brief moment as the alien fighters began to pounce on what had been his home for the past few months. The Union of Border Worlds Special Operations Headquarters no longer existed.

Two months later, March 6th. . .

The new Union of Border Worlds Special Operations HQ
(Location classified)

The Director pulled a cigar out of his desk and lit it up. "Confed is looking for some personnel to replace some of their losses after that undeclared war with the mysterious aliens. I'm sure you know of it. A request was put into Border Worlds sector command for an experienced squadron commander on one of Confed's newest heavy fleet carriers. Consider yourself volunteered."

Phalanx started to reply back when the director cut him off, "You fit the requirements in the memo Colonel. Considering your experience with Confed during the Cynium conflict and limited experience during the recent invasion, you are perfect for the assignment." The Director then stopped for a moment and said, "Colonel. Do you know a Commander Jesse Stuart?"

"Yes of course I know, Director. He served as my captain back in the Cynium Campaign..."

"Commander Stuart has crossed the line back to the Confees," the Border World Director emphasized on "Confee" as if it was a vulgar statement. "He is assigned on this new carrier Confed is going out. When he was asked to recommend some Border World personnel to commission into Confed, he gave out a list of names. One of those names were you.

Kugler replied, "And I assume that my name was put up high on the list of candidates."

"You were on the top of the list," the Director replied as he took another breath of the cigar.

"I'm honored, sir."

"It was a short list." The Director smirked, exhaling smoke into the air. Most of the smoke was sucked up into the air conditioning vent, but just enough wafted towards Kugler's nose to make him want to gag. Even in this advanced age, some people still liked the stench of grossly polluted air. The Director often quoted Gene Hackman's line, "I don't trust air that I can't see."

"Do you know Colonel Jonathan Chapin?"

"Yes, sir, he's a close friend of mine and my old Wing Commander..."

"Your friend Lieutenant Colonel Chapin, now Terran Confederation Space Force, also went back to the Confees. Don't know what he's doing now. It seems that a lot of Border World officers they defected from Confed are defecting back. Looks like you are joining him." The Director exhaled again and smiled, he knew that Kugler couldn't stand any kind of cigarette or cigar smoke. That was one of the few pleasures the Director could afford in his schedule, and he would be damned if he'd give that up to cater to some pilot's delicate sense of smell.

"Of course, Colonel. You are a veteran in joint operations and tactics, a first-rate engineer, and a hero to both the Confederation and the Border Worlds. There are several Border Worlds officers that have already accepted commissions in Confed and transferred along the normal lines. But we don't have very many that we can keep close contact with. That is why we jumped on this opportunity. We were certain that you would be selected, but measures were taken to ensure that you would be, Colonel."

Kugler nodded his head, restraining himself from visibly reacting to the rapidly thickening air. "Yes sir, I can understand that. But why is this being taken over by SpecOps and not Personnel? I thought personnel transfer would be handled by personnel."

The Director pressed a button and a viewscreen showed a map of all Border Worlds space, the systems under the Union of Border Worlds flag marked clearly. "Colonel, the systems with a red dot in the center were all attacked by the aliens. The systems that were completely devastated are full red dots. Those bastards hit us hard and without warning. Millions died, and our armed forces have been crippled even more than before. You know that, you fought hard to try to prevent the Special Operations HQ from being destroyed, but it was nothing that you could have done."

"Yes, sir. Our newest model Border World fighters were barely a match for the alien fighters, our new Super Banshee prototypes falling sorely short -  we only narrowly held on by the skin of our teeth. If it wasn't for the TCS Midway taking the Kilrah System back on February 21st, the Border Worlds would have been completely overrun, Hanton's Combined Fleet or not," Kugler mused. "And from the Intell report, we were defending against a mere alien destroyer, her fighters, and a trio of corvettes. If an alien carrier joined the scene then we would be strumming harps up there in heaven."

After taking a drag on his cigar, the Director continued, "Exactly, Colonel. We both know that our Special Operations has the fastest and most reliable Intell in the Border Worlds. That is why we want someone on the front lines, fighting with Confed. You are our man in the loop, the first of our HumInt [Human Intelligence, for those of you not familiar with intelligence operations] early warning system that we are setting up. You won't be expected to engage in espionage, just maintain a presence. This has already been cleared through Confed Intelligence Services, they loved the idea. It gives them some work to do."

Kugler had lost great pilots to the aliens, and not even their brand-new fighters could save them. It was time to make a difference, someone had to fight to keep the civilians safe. "Understood, sir. What will I be flying? And I hope what I'm flying is much better then the piece of junk I have been flying for the past couple of months."

The Director gave a little laugh. "You are due to report in for flight rating in the F-108A Panther space superiority fighter in one week. I made sure you got a billet in that particular type of fighter." Phalanx thought about that, the Panther; that is one of Confed's kickass space superiority fighters. "At that time, you will accept a commission as a Lieutenant Colonel in Confed Space Force." the old man replied as he cautiously set his smoldering cigar in the nearby crystal ash tray.

"And any personal directives, sir?" Kugler waited for the answer he knew was coming.

"Keep your eyes open for now, Colonel. Your mission is primarily to command a squadron on the Mistral Sea and support any and all efforts. We may be in a new era of peace and cooperation, but I still don't trust everyone in Confed, maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I just got this deep down gut feeling. That is why some occasions you may receive direct comms from CIS. The Border Worlds has to keep a close eye on the universe around us, including the Confederation. Just keep an eye out. If anything special comes to your attention, send an emergency burst transmission immediately."

Kugler shook his head. "With all due respect sir, I think you are paranoid. Sir, I have served with most of the pilots and staff officers on this roster, especially Commander Stuart and now Lieutenant Colonel Chapin. We trusted each other with our lives, and will continue to. There isn't a one that I completely and absolutely trust, as people are capable of making mistakes. But I do trust them enough to tell you that I will not spy on them. My loyalties are in the right place, and you know exactly what they are, sir. So respectfully, I decline the orders."

The Director smiled. He knew at that moment that he really had made the right selection. "Duly noted, Colonel. I understand what you are saying, and I think I have to agree with you. But there are those that still like to maintain the status quo, and don't take too kindly to the Border Worlds' new position with Confed."

"You mean paper pushing jackasses, sir?"

"More like ignorant prideful fools who don't know that even the Border Worlds have limits." The Director emphasized at the word "fool" and then laughed aloud. "Damn straight, Colonel. And I know that you aren't one of them, I've never liked kiss-asses or save-asses. They are all a liability. Watch your back, Colonel. There are some people that would love to take advantage of our situation, and you have to be careful around them. I know that you will do your best, and let God take care of the rest. Don't let us down, Justin."

"I won't, sir. Permission to be dismissed?" Kugler responded with resolve and determination in his voice.

"Dismissed, Colonel. God be with you."

Kugler stood up and saluted. "Thank you, sir. I would hope that God is with us all."

On the way back to the small flight deck, Kugler thought deeply about his latest assignment, Damn, this is going to be a hell of a lot of work. But it needs to be done, someone has to do this for the people. We can't let the civilians be hurt like that again. And if I have to take two jobs to protect the lives of innocents, I will do all that I can. God will take care of everything, and give me the chance to really do something right.

Kugler then climbed into the shuttle and sat down in the pilot's seat. He opened up a comm channel to the station airspace controller. "This is flight zero-one-zero-alpha. Requesting launch clearance, new authentication-GUARDIAN."

"GUARDIAN, you are cleared to launch. Godspeed, Colonel, stay righteous."

Five minutes later, Colonel Kugler was on his way back to the fighter training center in the P-O-S shuttle. Somehow, it didn't seem like some crappy, old shuttle anymore. Everything was important in its own way. The flight of three Banshee fighters escorted him to unsecured space and then peeled away to maintain their patrol. Justin decided that he would have to get his XO and logistics officer up to speed on their new assignment. But first, Kugler set the autopilot and lied back for a nice, six-hour nap. That is if he could get past the damnable thin padding and rough material of the pilot's chair.

Two days later, March 8th. . .

UBW Space Force Operations Command
Pride of Charleston Officer's Club & Restaurant

Justin and Caroline Kugler sat in the lounge, looking out at the sunset. It was the first time in months that either of them had eaten a decent meal so it almost seemed like going out to an expensive place on one of the luxury planets. They were still looking out the stars about that very fateful day. It was a miracle that they and the Ghost had escaped the wrath of the unknowns. But it was very costly, all of the remaining Super Banshee prototypes were destroyed fighting the aliens, buying enough time for the Ghost to reach the jump point.

And now the Border Worlds military was in ruins. And so was the Confed military. But for the Border Worlds' First Fleet each loss hurt, while the ConFleet machine could just churn out more ships if needed. Justin cursed over the insignificant shipbuilding capability that the Border Worlds were always seemed to be cursed by.

With the success of the Combined Fleet last month and return of Hanton's Battle Group Valkyrie, now came a time of rebuilding. Rebuilding the destroyed colonies and civilian populations. And then the military rebuilding after that. Needless to say, it was going to be a while before the Border Worlds Navy can be made operational. The Super Banshee program was on an indefinite halt. There was simply no money that can be diverted to start the project again from scratch, or for any military projects for that matter..

"Caroline, I wanted you to come here to meet me for a very good reason," Justin said hesitantly.

"What's wrong, dear? You never sound nervous unless something is wrong," she sighed.

In all the years he had served in the Border Worlds and the Confederation, no one ever understood Justin quite like Caroline did. They just seemed to have a connection that went to the soul. Everyone in both their families had said that their marriage was a bad idea, because military marriages never worked out. So far, Caroline and Justin had proved them all wrong. As far as he was concerned, Justin intended to keep it that way. Only in the Border Worlds, Justin thought, would they tolerate military marriage.

"They want me to take a commission in Confed."

Caroline dropped her glass on the floor. "What? After all you've done for them? We fought in Cynium, we barely survived the Aliens. you're a ranking fighter ace now! Now they want you to go fight for Confed? Some of those people that are in command now killed Border Worlder fathers. my father. during the Black Lance incident! Why do they want you now? You turned down three offers to command squadrons for them."

"Most of the people we fought with at Cynium are going to be on board the new megacarrier, the Mistral Sea. They offered me a billet, the command tour for one of their Panther space superiority fighter squadrons. It is essentially a squadron transfer, though. Everyone left alive in my current squadron is going over there and the empty slots will be filled with Confed pilots. I don't have to take the job, but I was 'strongly encouraged' to," Justin said. He knew that Caroline wasn't happy with their superior officers right now.

"Those Confee jerks. They ask too much of you, Justin. Every time you go out there, I am so worried that you won't come back." Caroline didn't even remember that she had dropped her glass, or that the wine was forming a pool on the floor.

Justin sighed. "And I go through the same thing whenever you go and fight. But we are officers, Caroline. We have a job to do. I'm an fighter pilot, baby. You know that. I can't just give them the finger and go AWOL."

One of the waiters rushed over a swept up the fallen glass and sprayed some desiccant powder on the stained carpet. Caroline blushed and apologized before looking at Justin. "You want to go, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."

His typical grin spread across Justin's face. "Sweetheart, have you seen what those Panthers can do? They got much more fighting capability than the Super Banshee. This is a wonderful opportunity. Besides, there's only one person I would trust to be my executive officer on this tour of duty."

"Oh, Justin." Caroline played with her salad fork. "This is important, I know. And you've always been pushing the edges. That's just a part of who you are. Sometimes, I just get tired. I don't want to fly fighters any more. After what happened at Circe. I just think I've lost my edge. You might trust me in the cockpit, but I don't."

Justin gently took Caroline's hand in his. "It's okay, Cari. What we do isn't for everyone and doesn't last forever. We just have to do our part for as long as we can."

The sun had almost completely set, but the lights in the O-Club were specially timed to increase in intensity as the outside light decreased. Neither of them had even noticed that is was almost dark outside until they looked out the windows.

"You are still doing your part, though, Justin. I don't want to be an obstacle to you. That wouldn't be fair for me to ask that of you."

The damnable grin returned to his face. "Sweetheart. I love you. I don't care where I am as long as I am making a difference and you are by my side. If you want me to, I will turn down the commission on the Mistral Sea and find a quiet research post."

For once that evening, Caroline started to smile. "Actually, I have a little of a surprise for you. I was also offered a commission on the Mistral Sea."

Justin's eyes widened and turned bright. "What? What kind of commission?" he asked as the grin began to turn into a smile.

"They want me to accept a job working in their Science and Tactical division. Space Force rank of Major. I'd be working with the project leader, Lieutenant Commander Alan Shieh and his staff on combat strategy," she replied.

"I have a feeling that we are both going to get what we want from this situation," Justin said happily.

Caroline giggled. "Oh really, Colonel? And what is it that you want?"

"I get to fly fighters, you get to take a ship-board post, and we get to go home to each other at the end of the day. I like that arrangement."

The waiter came by with a new glass for Caroline and filled both their glasses. Caroline took a sip of her wine and smiled at Justin devilishly. "And what makes you think that I am going to take that commission?"

Justin drank nearly half of his wine and grinned. "Because I am going to ask you as nicely and as heartfelt as possible."

"Hmmm. I don't know if that will be good enough," Caroline mused as she leaned in closer towards her husband. Justin leaned forward until he was close enough to whisper.

"And as soon as we finish this wine, I am going to take you to my quarters. and show you how much I love you," he whispered gently into Caroline's ear.

Caroline's eyes lit up and she giggled again as she sat back in her plush leather chair. "Okay, I think that will be more than convincing enough for me. Can I ask you something, though?" Justin's ability to change emotions so quickly never ceased to amaze Caroline. One minute, he would be totally serious and focused. The next, he would be cutting up and joking around like everyone else. Just wait five more minutes, and he would be soft hearted and gentle. The warm look in his deep blue eyes told Caroline that he was in the gentle mood.

"Of course."

"Does the Mistral Sea have larger quarters than the Charleston? You know I hit my head on the bunk at least three times when we served on her."

Justin laughed out loud. "Hey, I offered to move on several occasions! But I would imagine so. Besides, you're staff now. I am willing to bet that you could almost get us a stateroom considering how Confed is!"

The sole couple in the entire restaurant laughed softly together and finished their wine in the dim glow of electric candles and the ambience of an O-Club that tried desperately to be quaint.

FINIS