The Liberation of Ross 569

[Axon Jackson]

"You chose a good time to show up commander, things here in-system are getting hot!" the Merc Captain said to me as he sipped his drink.

We were inside the bar at Pimi Dock in the Ross 569 System. I had happened to stumble into the system by chance after delivering much needed medical supplies to D'Arrest Station in Uibuth and was between jobs. Ross 569 was on the extreme outer edge of Imperial inhabited space. Your typical wretched hive of scum and villainy, 1.3 million strong. The drinks were watered down and the company dark and dangerous, but that was how I liked it.

"The Nationalists are all kinds of worried. The economy is good now, but terrorist attacks are on the rise and rumors of pending civil war between several factions both in-system and without are all over the place. I wouldn't be here if there wasn't truth to those rumors." said the Captain and I looked at him confused.

"Sorry Captain, but I'm new here. Tell me about the situation a little." I asked over my own drink.

"Sure. There are 3 main in system factions here and one outside faction attempting to get a foot hold. Ross 569 itself, along with Pimi Dock is controlled by a group called "The Nationalists". The Nationalists are a vicious bunch of authoritarian fascists who run the system with an iron hand. They have the vast majority of support and influence within the system and are officially under Imperial sovereignty but this far out on the edge, that sovereignty is always questionable. They are a nasty dictatorship. They are in turn supported by Gold United Interplanetary. They're your typical corporation, they specialize in mining and military equipment and are given leave to operate in the system by the Nationalists. They own the other two stations in the system, Popov Hub on 569a and de Caminha Station. They supply the Nationalists with weapons and tech support, which the Nationalists use against the Freedomists and anyone else they feel the need to assault.

The other faction is the Ross 569 Freedom Party. A small guerrilla group with a loyal following. They are the ones who are responsible for much of the terrorism in the system against the Nationalists and a big part of why I am here. They are looking to liberate the system from the control of the Nationalists and the Empire. They been blowing stuff up for years with little to show for it. I'm here to see them stopped.

One other group would be the Vettones. They come from another nearby system and have been been expanding into the system at the expense of Gold United. Many a skirmish has been fought recently between those two, with the support of the other factions as well. It isn't looking good for Gold United at the moment which leaves a opportunity for the Freedomists if they are smart enough to take it. Though I personally could care less who owns these balls of rock. What matters to me is who is willing to pay the most."

I grunted in agreement with that one. I didn't care either, but was looking for a pay day.

I finished my drink and thanked the Captain for the intel and headed back to my ship. Being curious and a bit of a war tourist, I wanted to talk to some of the groups and see where I and my Viper could fit in.

After landing at Popov Hub on 569a and much asking around I managed to make contact with a Freedomist sympathizer who put me in touch with a more senior member of the group.

"We're fighting tyranny here Commander. Between the Nationalists and the Vittones, we've lost many good operatives and our influence in the system is falling. We could use your help."

"What exactly am I and my one ship supposed to do?" I asked with skepticism.

"Well, we are currently planning an attempt to wrest control of one of the minor stations from Gold United. You could be of use in that endeavor." the Freedomist replied.

My eyebrows raised at that one, bring a smile from the Freedomist.

"Yes, assets are almost in place and when the time comes, we will attack and attempt to take this station from Gold United. If we can succeed here, that will give us a base of operations for further attacks against the Nationalists."

"Okay, so where do I fit in on this?" I asked.

"Well, we have several targets that need destroyed. If you are willing, we can pay you the going rate for a pilot of your reputation." the Freedomist gave back.

Yeah, that wasn't much. I didn't exactly have a legendary status through inhabited space, but I had a good ship and a need for credits and I'm no fan of backwards dictatorships or corporate goons. So I threw my lot in with the Nationalists.

"Very good. The first mission is right here on 569a. There is an agricultural facility on this rock that supplies food for the Nationalists. It is protected by sentry skimmers. If you can knock those skimmers out, our team of operatives can get inside and sabotage the hydro systems and destroy some of the food supplies the Nationalists rely on. Nothing like a little hunger to get the people angry." the Freedomist told me.

"Yeah. Wonderful." I stated as I continued to press the Freedomist for more information on my target.

*************** TO BE CONTINUED *****************************

 

[Axon Jackson]

I slowly limped my badly damaged Viper IV into the bay at Pimi Dock. My cockpit boards were shot to hell and barely functioning, the HUD's flickering in and out of focus. The cockpit canopy was spiderwebbed and only luck had allowed it to hold under the heavy multi cannon rounds that were even now embedded in the glass mere inches from my face. The consoles were covered in blood, my own. The result of a mostly spent multi cannon round that ripped through the cockpit and caught me in the side. My flight suit's AutoMed system went to work, sealing the wound and administering a dose of pain killers and healing drugs. I would survive, but I was leaking blood and drowsiness was pulling at my eyelids from the loss. Only adrenaline and StimChems keeping me from losing consciousness and perhaps never waking.

I considered what went wrong, and what went right with the recent battle in the shadow of the ring system of Ross 569b. The battle had gone quite well at first. My Viper IV armed with medium burst lasers and a couple rail guns for the heavy boys, was supporting a group of other Viper III's and IV's against the hired thugs of Gold United. 6 Gold United heavies, Anacondas and Pythons, tens of millions of credits in hardware went down under the combined weight of missile and torpedo fire from the other Vipers and my brutal rail gun salvos. The smaller ships were falling one by one to the larger ships heavy weaponry however.

Eventually, the carnage had whittled the forces down to our 3 Viper MkIV's attacking a Gold United Anaconda who simply refused to die. By this time we were all out of heavy ammunition and were reduced to dancing around the large ship like a pack of lions over a water buffalo, dancing in and out and stinging. The Anaconda was fairly damaged. Only two weapons turrets remained functional, but his hull was otherwise largely intact. We used our superior speed and agility to dart in and sting the beast. Using our laser weapons to inflict a death of a thousand cuts. It was slow work, but we were making progress and it was obvious the Gold United Ship was exhausting itself.

I didn't see it when a Gold United Viper IV jumped into the fight. I only knew of his arrival when his first multi cannon rounds began slamming against my shields. It took me a moment to realize I was under attack FROM MY REAR. I tapped the emergency thrust on my throttle stick and was slammed into the seat behind me as the ship accelerated away from the deadly threat.

As I began to bank and attempt to bring this new attacker into my view, I was suddenly rocked in the cockpit as a missile slammed into my hull somewhere. A moment later my shields, already weakened from battling the anaconda, failed. As I desperately jinked to get away, the Viper pilot knew he had me. I felt more than heard, the impact of heavy multi-cannon shells on the seat behind me before a blinding flash of pain erupted in my side and saw my own blood spatter across the console. The cockpit canopy suddenly spiderwebbed in front me as two rounds embedded themselves into the Plex. I saw death in my helmeted reflection staring back me in the cracked canopy. I heard the flight suit begin to inflate and a tinny voice sounded in my ear. "Emergency Medical Protocol C. Large Shrapnel/GSW. Reparing." Felt the PlastWrap bandage adhere to my skin around the wound, sealing it and then of the needle and soft warmth of painkillers.

I thrusted again, jinking and watching tracers flash past when suddenly I was jolted violently again and my thrusters dropped off line. I was spinning out of control and watched as the Milky Way zipped by over and over again as I turned like a screw along my mid line axis. I closed my eyes and prepared for the final blow that was sure to come as the entire ship shut down except for emergency systems. It became quiet in the cockpit, with only the pounding of my own pulse in my ears and my labored breathing. I waited in terror for the final end.

After about 30 seconds I opened my eyes. I was alive! My pursuer had broken off the chase when my systems had failed and I was left for dead, adrift in space. For whatever reason, the Viper had decided I was at least Mission Ineffective and had turned away to deal with my two companions. I quickly tapped the keyboard and brought up the emergency reboot/repair protocols and launched them. Moments later the ship hummed to life. A quite prayer to a deity I didn't even believe in flashed through my mind and then the Frame Shift Drive slowly powered up and showed Nominal. I touched the throttle controls and waited as the FSD shot me away from the Conflict Zone.

As my craft settled into the docking bay at Pimi, and I saw the emergency crews driving out in their trucks. I finally let myself go into the blackness of sleep, I had survived, and my black box was still intact with the proof of my combat kills. A decent sum of credits would be collected from the Freedomists, when I woke up.

 

[Axon Jackson]

When I awoke in the Sick Pay of Pimi Dock, the war was over. The Vidscreen on the wall of my room declared it in bold letters:

CIVIL WAR CEASE FIRE ANNOUNCED

In what has been described as the bloodiest week in Popov Hub's history, dozens of member of the Ross 569 Freedom Party and Gold United Interplanetary have been killed following an altercation between the leaders of the two factions.

A clear victor emerged with the Freedom Party, which now retains control of Popov Hub.

I turned to see my personal PAD sitting on a table next the bed. I picked it up and logged into the local net where I could catch up on more news. de Caminha Base was attacked as well as Popov as a diversionary tactic. Gold United is claiming it as a major victory but really de Caminha base is a mere outpost compared to Popov Hub. Well, the Freedomists have their base.

A man with dark skin, blue eyes and red hair appeared in the door of my MediPod. He had the smile of a politician. I groaned inside.

"Hello Commander Jackson." He said as he approached me. I sat up a little higher in the bed.

"Commadner, I am Advisor Asa Raymond. I am the Provisional Executive of Popov Hub. I just wanted to come over and extend the gratitude of the Freedom Party for your actions. Your black box data has been instrumental in gaining leverage over Gold United. As well as provide proof of your combat. You have earned a tidy sum over the last week, Commander."

The Advisor smiled as I checked my wallet on my Pad. Considering when I arrived in Ross 569 I didn't even have enough to cover my insurance payments, I was content. I'd manage to bring in enough to upgrade a few things on the Viper, or even trade it in for something else. I would have to consider my options once I got out of this place.

"Anyway Commander, the Peace for now holds. There is no telling if violence my break out again here on the The Hub. Get well soon, we may need you again."

 

[Axon Jackson]

My eyes snapped open the instant my brain interpreted weapons fire in the hallway outside my stateroom on Popov Hub. I had taken up permanent residence there since the day the Ross 569 Freedom Party took over the station. Another shot, distant but close enough to echo down the passageways made it's way to my ears.

I jumped out of my bunk and began throwing on my flight suit. Someone pounded loudly and calling my name on my stateroom door. It was Asa Raymond, the Station Advisor. I hit the ALLOW ENTRY button on the command pad and the door slid open. Asa stepped quickly inside with a glance down the corridor before the door slid shut behind him again.

"Commander! I'm glad I found you! We have to get you out of here and to your ship right now!" Advisor Raymond told me breathlessly.

"What's going on?"

"Gold United staged a raid. Their trying to take back the station, and they have specific orders to find you. After your help in taking this station from them, they want you out of the picture."

Greeeeat. I was a nobody anywhere else in the galaxy. A mere peon, but here, on the very edge of inhabited space in a system of a million people. I was both a hero and a hunted fugitive. C'est la Vie!

"Right! Well, lets go then."

I pressed the open button and the door slid open and out into the corridor we went, running for the docking bay. As we made it near the docking bay, a squad of mercs spotted us and opened fire. We ducked around the corner and into the bay with projectiles bouncing off the bulkheads and sprinted for my craft, a shiny new Cobra III I had purchased with my pay from the Freedomists and the war. She was fully equipped with the best equipment credits could buy. She wasn't as pretty as my Viper MkIV, but she was way more manuverable. When I wasn't running cargo for the freedomists, I had her stripped down and hull and module reinforcements installed that cut into her manuverability, but made her a tank. On top of that she was loaded with two Level 2 Plasma Accelerators that just obliterate anything they touch.

As I got the system up and running, I could hear the pitter-patter of small arms fire rattling off the armor. If I had only been loaded with cargo racks I might have worried but with the reinforcements in, they would need something more powerful than the light arms the mercs carried.

I fired up the thrusters and powered off the pad, turning towards the sky and hitting the superthrust and pushing far away from the station. The giant, blue orb Ross 569 2 dominated my view as I pulled away from the surface and headed for orbit. The Freedomist pilots had an emergency rendezvous point in ring system of Ross 569 2 and I put that into my navigation system. It was only a few light seconds away Popov Hub which was located on Ross 569 2b.

As I frame shifted into the rendezvous coordinates I was startled to find a full blow conflicted zone had erupted. Someone had sold us out. Ships of all kinds were twisting and turning blasting away at each other. I powered up my weapons system and went to work. An eagle, an asp explorer, another cobra and a viper fell to the accelerated plasma bolts my Cobra spit.

As I finished off another ship I looked out of canopy and saw on the very edge of the furball a Ross 569 ship was in trouble. It was locked in a struggle with an Imperial Clipper and was obviously overmatched. I mashed the overthrust and cleared the 5 kilos in seconds and snuck in behind the clipper. I lined up my shot and at around 500 meters I let fly with a full blast. The accelerated plasma smashed into the rear shields of the Clipper, nearly dropping them. I followed it up with a volley of pulse laser fire and cut the throttle.

As the battle commenced, I realized that we were perfectly matched in speed and manuverability and armament. I and the United Pilot in the Clipper literally stared each other down at less than 2 or 300 meters as we danced together in space, our throttles cut back to the minimum manuvering speed. Eventually he or I would make a slip and a short volley of laser fire was exchanged.

Shields went down, still the manuvering fight went on our noses locked together as we both struggled to bring our forward facing weapons to bear against the other but both remaining in each other's blind spot. Neither able to take more than a few seconds of laser at the other. As we battled it out in a stalemate on the edge of the furball, we were unaware that the battle had turned in favor of the Freedomist pilots and a few were able to break away and finally and assist me. With their distraction I was finally able to dispatch the clipper with a few well timed, close range plasma shots.

As the clipper detonated in front of me, I felt a great sense of accomplishment. The ship computer estimated my hull integrity at about 73% and my shield were just recovering. There was some mopping up to do but I was in poor shape to do it, so I signaled to the other pilots and they peeled off to finish off the last few United ships.

I directed myself to Pimi Dock rather than Popov Hub to seek repairs and chill out until the latest violence abated itself. The Freedomist hold on Popov was pretty solid and I had no doubt that this was probably a last gasp of Gold United. Latest polling showed them less popular than cholera. Hopefully after this we could turn our attention towards the Nationalists and liberate the star system from both the dictators and the Empire and see the birth of a new independent Ross 569