Somewhere high in the Austrian Alps
August, 1985
Anna Conda strode into the command centre of the castle owned by her Cobra Europe deputy and looked around. A Tele-Viper caught her eye and she strode toward him. The Tele-Viper handed her a clipboard.
“Message from Cobra Commander, ma’am.”
Anna took the clipboard and read the message. It wasn’t often that Cobra Commander bothered to give specific missions to the newly formed European wing of the organisation. Most often, he left them to their own devices or simply co-opted their personnel and equipment for a mission.
“Orders from Cobra Commander to launch an attack on Action Force’s space-station,” Anna Conda commented aloud. “Summon Hades and Red Wolf to my study.”
The Tele-Viper bobbed his head as he acknowledged the order and the Austrian-born woman strode off.
Moments later, exiting what had once been a banquet hall, Anna passed along a corridor and entered the small study she’d taken over. The décor was fairly Spartan; a map of Europe decorating one wall, a Cobra flag stood on a pole behind the desk and a deactivated WW2 era sub-machine gun hung on another wall.
Anna sat behind the oak desk and re-read the message, double-checking the authentication codes.
Hades entered the office without bothering to knock, Red Wolf close on his heels.
The men were contrasts; Hades wore a black uniform similar in style to the Crimson Guard uniform, but with grey cloth mask across his mouth and nose and an officer’s helmet. He was muscular and tall. Red Wolf was shorter, leaner and had close-cropped dark hair. He wore a rumpled red flight suit with several pouches on the chest.
Neither man spoke as they came to attention before Anna’s desk. For a moment she simply studied them, remembering their histories. Hades; born Sebastian Blaine in New Zealand had served in their SAS regiment before throwing it away to become a mercenary. Betrayed by his own group and left for dead, he’d survived and set up a small arms-dealing company known as Argent Corporation. Argent was now a legitimate front company for Cobra in Europe as Anna had hired Blaine on a long-term contract to act as her advisor and deputy. Red Wolf, his real name he kept to himself, was a former NASA astronaut drummed out over a rivalry with another man. He’d been blackmailed in to serving Baron Ironblood as lead pilot for his Roboskull fleet. Only months earlier, Ironblood had suddenly turned on the Shadows and the organisation had been smashed apart by Action Force, the European counter-terrorist unit. Red Wolf, along with a few others, had survived and joined Cobra in Europe. Along the way, he’d delivered a force of Roboskulls.
“We’ve received mission orders from Cobra Commander,” Anna finally announced. “He wants us to launch an attack on Action Force’s space-station and destroy it.”
A smirk creased Red Wolf’s face. “A chance to strike back at the Space Force dogs?” Red Wolf asked. “Good. When?”
Anna held up a warning finger, “First of all, can we mount such a mission? You told me that you had Roboskulls capable of space flight. Do you have the capability to attack Space Force?”
Red Wolf nodded enthusiastically, “We have a force of eight Roboskulls that can mount such an attack. I’ve also got pilots for such a mission. All I need to know is when you want the attack to go ahead.”
Hades turned to Red Wolf, “You brought us a force of twenty Roboskulls. I know we’ve lost a few, but that many?”
Red Wolf shook his head, “We still have ten Roboskulls for atmospheric flight,” he answered. “I only saved eight orbital flight versions from Action Force.”
“Can’t we use the others?” Anna asked.
Red Wolf shook his head again. “No, they’re not pressurised for flight in a vacuum, they can’t withstand the heat of re-entry and lack the mounting points for the boosters to achieve escape velocity and reach orbit.”
“Could we convert them?” Hades asked. “Add the attachments, add heat-shielding and so on?”
A third shake, “No, because we only have boosters for eight Roboskulls. They don’t exactly grow on trees, you know.”
“Can you guarantee you can complete the mission with only eight Roboskulls?” Anna asked.
This time Red Wolf shrugged. “That depends on timing. We might be able to strike at the station whilst Action Force have no craft in orbit, to aid in its defence, but what window do we have for timing on this?”
“The Commander wants the station out of operation by the end of the year.” Anna leaned forward, “I do not want to disappoint him.”
“Give me a week to plan the mission and check on the launch windows. We can probably launch the mission inside a month.”
“Good, dismissed.”
September, 1985
The Space Force space station hung over Earth like a bright Christmas bauble, sunlight glinting off its hull. Hot Jets liked seeing the station like this as he piloted his Cosmic Cruiser on its final approach to docking.
The Russian had to admit to himself it was strange for him, a Soviet cosmonaut, to be excited about flying to a Western space-station, even after being in Action Force for three years.
The multi-national counter-terrorism force had been finally declared operational in 1981, after two years of negotiations to put it together. Formed to counter the increasing threat of international terrorism from Palestinian groups, Communist insurgents in Western Europe, separatists in some countries and various other groups, Action Force had been a NATO outfit, but when the Soviets raised concerns that the unit might be used against them NATO had offered to allow the Soviets to put forward members in the force to reassure them. Six men from Warsaw Pact countries had joined, Yuri Asimov, Russian fighter pilot, among them.
Action Force had been dominated by British and American soldiers, including squads from the British Parachute Regiment, SAS and Royal Marines as well as a force of US Army paratroopers. It had also included various commandos, frogmen, mountain and Arctic warfare experts, pilots and a squad of Australian jungle warfare experts. Two months after being declared operational, a mission investigating rumours of a new terror organisation had gone awry. One of the Royal Marines, an officer known only by an alias now, had been captured by Baron Ironblood, the leader of the force known as the Red Shadows. The Marine had been twisted to serve the Baron and led an attack on a British weapons–testing facility, capturing an American Heavy Artillery Laser in the process and leaving dozens dead.
The US withdrew most of its support, focusing instead on its own new counter-terror unit code-named ‘G.I. Joe’. The Soviets had also withdrawn their support, although four of the Warsaw Pact members had remained, Yuri among them. The Pact had instead formed the Soviet-dominated Oktober Guard unit. Action Force underwent a radical reorganisation to counter what knowledge the man now known as the Black Major had of the unit. Gone were the Ground Assault, Naval Assault and Night Patrol cadres and in came SAS Force, an elite hit-and-run and covert ops force, Z Force, the armour and infantry group, Q Force, the naval operations flotilla, Special Weapons Force, the highly secretive weapons testing wing and Space Force, which had been planned to be an air wing, until the US had allowed use of its space shuttles and launch facilities to construct the space-station.
Yuri Asimov, now known as ‘Hot Jets’, had been assigned to Space Force and become the lead pilot in the Cosmic Cruiser, a compact shuttlecraft used for ferrying personnel and supplies to the station.
“Cosmic Cruiser flight 378 to Station, on final approach for docking. Request clearance,” Hot Jets radioed to the station.
“CC 378, this is Station. You are cleared for docking. Welcome back to the station, Captain.”
Hot Jets recognised the pleasant voice on the radio as the new American woman, codename ‘Telstar’. She was a Black woman who was one of two new communications experts Space Force had recruited, along with a Bulgarian known as ‘Uplink’.
“Thanks, Station.”
The docking went smoothly and Hot Jets climbed from the craft as four technicians approached to help unload.
In the station’s command centre, Telstar reported the docking to the station commander, Sky Raider. Her fellow American acknowledged the report as he studied his latest status report.
Hawkwind, the Swedish head of security, was leading a group of four Satellite Defence sleds on a training flight to destroy a damaged satellite, Sky Raider saw. Hawkwind had checked in a few minutes ago, the group was approaching their target, several thousand miles over Brazil.
Moondancer, meanwhile, had checked in on his mission with Kiwi and Zenit to repair an Action Force communications satellite. The repairs were underway, with the New Zealand-born engineer carrying out his EVA to work on the comsat. Moondancer reported the Triad would be returning on schedule in two hours.
Sky Raider mused to himself that this was another quiet boring day. He barely had time to complete the thought before Blast Off suddenly spoke up.
“Multiple launches detected. Infrared satellite picking up multiple thermal spikes across the spectrum. Somewhere in the south Pacific. Attempting to isolate location. Looks like several rockets lifting off.”
Sky Raider turned toward the Australian, “Tracks?” he asked.
“Crossing the Pacific, west to east. Climbing rapidly,” the space patroller replied.
“Telstar, contact NORAD at Sunnyvale, see if they’ve got this. Sound yellow alert,” Sky Raider ordered.
Booster chimed in next, “I have the tracks on my screen,” the strategist reported. “Launch tracks are inconsistent with ballistic launches for a missile strike on the US. Speed and altitude are consistent with orbital insertion profile.”
“I’m attempting to isolate the launch point,” Blast Off reported. “Looks like somewhere west of Indonesia.”
“NORAD has the inbounds,” Telstar cut in. “They are claiming it’s civilian test launches from an island in the south-east Pacific.”
Booster spoke up again, “Bogies are at eighty kilometres altitude, approaching thermosphere. Still on track for trans-atmospheric flight.”
Sky Raider was busy working his computer station as the other members of the crew spoke. He was trying to find out who had a launch facility in the southeast Pacific.
“Confirmed eight bogies, flying in formation,” Booster reported. “Altitude now two hundred kilometres.”
“Sound red alert,” Sky Raider ordered. “Telstar, contact Hawkwind and tell him to get his flight back here ASAP. Then call Moondancer and get him back here too.”
“Aye,” the communications operative replied.
Sky Raider hit his intercom panel.
“Sky Raider to Hot Jets; is your Cosmic Cruiser ready to fly?”
“We’ve just off-loaded the last crate,” the Russian answered.
“Then get your Russian butt in that ship and get out there, we’ve got bogies in the air, possibly hostile.”
“Da, Commander.”
Tense moments passed as Sky Raider continued trying to determine who owned the launch facility and Booster continued to report the unidentified craft’s climb toward space.
“Moondancer reports his Triad has begun de-orbit burn, he’s en route. ETA Ten minutes,” Telstar announced.
“Status of Hawkwind’s flight?” Sky Raider asked.
“They’re out of position,” Telstar answered. “Currently on the opposite side of Earth, heading for transit of North Pole.”
Sky Raider cursed. The four Satellite Defence sleds, although little more than a set of manoeuvring engines strapped to a seat and a phased particle beam weapon, could still prove useful in defending the station.
“Radar contact on bogies,” Blast Off announced. “Tracking bogies on satellite 3-3. They just began jettisoning booster rockets.”
“Comparing flight profiles with known orbital vehicles,” Booster said.
“Hot Jets, what’s your status?” Sky Raider asked.
“Launching now, Commander.”