1990
Somewhere off the Kola Peninsula
It had taken several weeks for the freighter to cross the Atlantic Ocean, pass through the English Channel, cross the North Sea and make it’s way around the Scandinavian Peninsula, but it was finally nearing its destination.
The captain was in the mess hall drinking a cup of coffee and reading a message from the owners when the intercom crackled to life and an urgent voice called out.
“Captain to the bridge! Urgent, Captain to the bridge!”
The captain set aside his mug and papers and dashed out the door, headed along the narrow passage and scrambled up the ladder to the bridge.
The first officer turned toward him as the captain dashed in.
“Our air-search radar is tracking several aircraft, sir. Bow lookout has them in sight.”
“What aircraft are they?” the Captain asked.
“Six helicopters and two fighters,” the first officer answered.
“They’re Cobra aircraft,” put in the crewman manning the radar station. Normally the station was used for tracking commercial aircraft in case of an accident.
The Captain turned toward the crewman. “How do you know that?”
The crewman turned toward him, causing the captain to flinch involuntarily; the sailor’s scars still provoked the reaction.
“Stands to reason,” the sailor answered. “We’re carrying classified cargo from Brazil to Russia. We’ve been shadowed on and off across the Atlantic by fighters. Since we entered European waters we’ve had at least two fighters trailing us at a distance until yesterday. Someone’s been keeping track of us. Now they’re not. I’d bet that someone was Action Force and now Cobra’s ready to strike.”
The captain frowned, it made sense, but, “How do you know all this?”
“About Cobra and Action Force trailing us?” the radar operator asked. “Simple, I was in Q Force, the naval arm of Action Force.”
“I thought you were in the Royal Navy,” the first mate said.
“I was. Radar operator for HMS Broadsword. I joined Q Force in 1985, and became a radar operator for their Swordfish craft. I was on an operation in the Middle East when I was injured and invalided out of Action Force,” the crewman replied. “I know how they operate and I know how Cobra works.”
The crewman limped toward the door out to the flying bridge, picking up a spare set of binoculars as he passed. The captain followed him out.
The radar operator scanned the sky through the binoculars until he spotted the aircraft.
“There they are,” he muttered. He focused the binoculars as the captain sought to spot them.
“Two Cobra Rattlers and a pair of Mambas,” the radar operator said, as he identified them. “Looks like four troop carriers behind.”
The captain spotted the aircraft. “Fighter jets,” he moaned.
“That’s the Rattlers,” the radar operator told him. “Anti-tank jets with a big-ass multi-barrel cannon on the nose. They’re also carrying air-to-surface missiles. The leading helicopters are Mambas. They carry 9mm machine guns and anti-tank missiles.”
As the captain watched, the radio inside the main bridge crackled to life.
“Attention, MS Stellar Eclipse, this is Cobra. You will heave-to and prepare to be boarded or we will open fire.”
The captain headed back inside, the radar operator following.
Before they could do or say anything, a flash of light crossing the sky caught their attention. All four men on the bridge turned to see one of the Rattlers explode, its wreckage plunging into the sea, still burning.
A second flash of light crossed the sky and blotted the other Rattler from the sky, before a third struck and destroyed one of the Mamba helicopters.
The radar operator and captain raised their binoculars to see the second Mamba and the troop carrying helicopters turn and speed away.
Seconds later, four fighter jets screamed over the freighter at low level.
The radio crackled once more. “Attention, Stellar Eclipse. This is Space Force Peregrine flight, do not heave to. We will trail the Cobra aircraft back to the Soviet coast. Continue on your current course and speed.”
The captain picked up the radio handset and acknowledged the message as one of the four fighters broke off and circled the freighter twice.
The captain raised his binoculars to watch as it flew around before heading off. Large orange lightning blots were visible on the right forward swept wing and on the twin rudders.
“What are they?” he muttered.
“Conquest X-30s from Action Force’s aerospace arm,” the radar operator replied. “American jets that were leased by Action Force to replace their Skystrikers. One of the most advanced jets ever built.”
The captain turned to the crewman. “I’m glad I took you on, now.”
High overhead, Afterburner brought her Conquest back into formation with the other three X-30s.
“Peregrine Lead, this is Three. The Eclipse looks undamaged, looks like we timed that just right, over.”
“Roger that, three,” replied the American accented voice of Hornet, the flight leader. “Shar already radioed the Soviet air force. They should have MiG-29s in the air shortly to intercept the Cobras once they cross the coast, over.”
“Outstanding news, Lead, over.”
“We’ll maintain our trail of them until the MiGs intercept. Make sure you have your IFF on and set to broadcast our Space Force ID code.”
Afterburner glanced down to check her Identification Friend or Foe beacon was set correctly and turned on.
“Set and broadcasting, Lead.”
It didn’t take long for the four Soviet fighters to arrive and escort the Cobra helicopters to a Russian base, allowing the Conquest X-30s to fly back toward Norway and refuel from a tanker before landing back at a Norwegian air base.
Talazhskiy Airport, Russia
Two days later
Skip stood off to one side as the Action Force unit went about their business of unloading the vehicles. The airport was a civilian one, but had been temporarily turned into a military field by the arrival of a joint SAS Force and Z Force group.
The Soviets would’ve preferred their own army to provide security for the transhipment of the spent nuclear fuel rods from the port to the reprocessing centre at Mayak, but the fact was, with the ongoing collapse of Communism, there had been a rise of corruption within the Red Army and equipment, ranging from uniforms, radios and tools up to armoured vehicles, had been sold on the black market. No one wanted nuclear fuel rods to end up that way. Nor had the vaunted Oktober Guard been up to the job after losing four of its six members in a mission in Sierra Gordo. The two survivors had been joined by two new members, but they wouldn’t be able to fight off a determined Cobra attack.
So, reluctantly, the Soviets had allowed an Action Force unit to provide the security force. It had been very conditional agreement: No fighter jets. Only four attack helicopters and one transport. No heavy tanks. Only sixty personnel.
As Skip watched, fifty of that number was unloading the vehicles. Two mechanics were busily returning the rotors of the two SAS Force Hawks to their usual position from the folded-up transport configuration. Two SAS Force Attack Troopers were carrying over a box containing four of the Hawks’ rockets to arm one, whilst Chopper and Blades were busy feeding ammo-belts into the nose turrets of both Hawks.
Two more mechanics were fussing over the Dragonfly helicopters, detaching the fuel tanks that had been attached to their weapons wings to increase their range and allow them to fly from Poland. The two pilots were wheeling over a trolley holding anti-tank missiles and air-to-air missiles to arm them. Redline was loading ammo into the gun mounted on the SAS Force recon buggy, whilst Throttle, the vehicle’s driver, was trying to fix a problem with its radio. Rev and Quickfire were loading the gun turret on the Panther jeep. Boonie and Bodycount were manhandling the missiles from a crate to arm the Puma Air-Defence Jeep.
Eagle and Jammer were conversing with Thunderbolt, the Zimbabwean-born ATC driver. From what Skip could hear, there was a problem with the troop carrier’s radio system.
Ton-Up and Swerve were trying to fix a broken track-link on one of the Z Force Armadillo mini-tanks.
Joyride and Digger were fitting the machine gun to one of the Z Force jeeps, whilst Wheels and Scout did the same to the other.
The other SAS Attack Troopers were assisting Evac, Tex and Rappel to remove the fuel tanks from the Tomahawk’s wings and to install it’s laser-guided missiles and to load both the 20mm chin gun and the 7.62mm door gun.
As Skip watched, a Soviet UAZ jeep sped across the tarmac and pulled up. Sitting in it were the four Oktober Guard members. Lt. Gorky walked toward him. A lean man, with blonde hair, Gorky wore a grey uniform and a black beret.
“Colonel Skip, a pleasure to meet you.” Gorky saluted and then stuck out his hand.
Skip returned the salute before shaking hands. “Nice ta meet you,” Skip answered in his Scots accent.
Daina and Sgt Misha wandered over to where the Puma was parked as Gorky and Skip began talking.
“How does Action Force have a Stinger jeep?” Misha asked as Bodycount stepped away from the vehicle making sure the missile wouldn’t fall off.
“I don’t know,” Daina answered. “It seems strange to me.”
Bodycount turned toward them, he wasn’t fluent in Russian, but had picked up enough to recognise the name of the jeep’s original version being used.
“Problem?” he asked in English.
“We wondered why you have a Cobra jeep,” Daina replied.
Bodycount smiled and the Czech sniper had to admit, he was good looking when he did smile.
“It’s a knock-off. We call it the Puma. An Action Force operator stole the plans from MARS a few years back and it was copied. After a legal wrangle, we now have a license from MARS to build our own modified version of the Stinger, which is this beauty,” Bodycount answered.
Daina self-consciously noticed he was staring at her.
“Speaking of beauty, when this mission’s over, how about I take you out for dinner, gorgeous?” Bodycount’s eyes seemed to twinkle as he flirted with Daina. To her shame, she felt embarrassed.
“I don’t know if that would be possible,” she replied, blushing slightly.
Bodycount’s smile broadened. “Well, I’ve got leave coming, I could always take it and take you to dinner if you can get a weekend pass.”
Daina forced herself not to smile. “I don’t even know your name,” she hedged.
“Codename’s Bodycount,” he answered.
“Ah, I’ve read your file,” she said before he could say anything else. “SAS Force Commando. Joined Action Force last year after serving with British SAS regiment.”
“I’ve got a file?” Bodycount asked.
“We have files on several Action Force soldiers and assorted Western special ops types. Admittedly, your file is rather thin.”
Bodycount frowned, “Glad to hear it.”
Before Daina could reply, Lt. Gorky called her name and she turned away, saw him waving her over and hurried across.
Boonie slapped Bodycount’s arm. “Hey, stop staring at her ass and help me finish up here,” he snapped in his New Zealand accent.
Bodycount glared at his comrade, but did as he was told.
Soon the vehicles were already and the soldiers assembled for a pep talk.
“Alright, you were all briefed before we left Britain,” Skip began. “You know what this is all about, so let’s not screw this up. We’ve got to impress the Oktober Guard after all. Mount up and let’s roll!”
As Daina watched the troops move to their respective vehicles, she noted that whilst the troopers were wearing largely unique outfits, they had uniform colours. All the SAS Force troopers wore grey, black and yellow on their uniforms, whilst the Z Force troops were clad in green, black and red. It seemed odd, compared to the unique outfits the Guard all wore.
The first Z Force jeep led off the convoy, with Wheels driving and Scout manning the machine gun, his metal detector leaning against his leg if he thought they were going to run into a minefield.
Behind them, Rev and Quickfire were in the Panther, Throttle and Bodycount followed in the Recon buggy trailed by Torque driving the HAVOC, with Mustang and Lock’n’Load.
Next came the Puma, driven by Redline, with Boonie. The ATC followed it, carrying Eagle, Skip, Kukri, Jammer and the Oktober Guard, with Thunderbolt driving. The two Armadillo mini-tanks came next, driven by Ton-Up and Swerve. Bringing up the rear was the second Z Force jeep; Joyride was at the wheel, with Triage the medic and Digger.
Once the convoy was moving, the two SAS Force Hawks and the Z Force helicopters lifted off. The Tomahawk then followed, carrying six SAS Force Attack Troopers.
The four attack helicopters settled into a pattern of orbits over the convoy as it moved through the city of Arkhangelsk, heading for the docks.
The convoy arrived at the docks to find four Soviet Army soldiers waiting for them with a Ural-4320 medium cargo truck.
Eagle and Lt. Gorky dismounted from the ATC and met the four soldiers. They reported that the ‘package’ was aboard the truck and they were ready to depart.
The convoy moved out, once more, with the Ural truck now positioned between the HAVOC and the Puma.