"Copy that, 'Wild Cards' Leader," Chambers responded.

"Herron control, this is 'Wild Cards'," West radioed. "We are chaperoning the 'Prom King' to the party. Requesting flight path instruction."

"'Wild Cards', this is Herron control," one of the air traffic controllers replied. "Please transmit IFF codes for security clearance."

"Transmission commencing. Awaiting further instructions," West announced.

"Please stand by for confirmation."

"Copy that."

The ISSAPC and its escorts continued flying towards Herron at maximum speed. The navigation computers on the Hammerheads beeped to signal incoming transmission from Herron. "'Wild Cards', this is Herron control," the air traffic controller announced. "IFF confirmed. Please follow the flight path according to the transmitted coordinates."

"Copy that, Herron," West responded. "The ISSAPC's navigation systems are down. They are flying by visual with one of my Hammerheads in point. Order the emergency response teams to stand ready as a precaution."

"We copy you loud and clear."

On Herron air base, the klaxon wailed to announce a possible crash landing, and the rescue teams scrambled to respond.

"This is 'Two of Clubs' to 'King of Hearts'," Morales radioed. "Do you copy?"

"Yeah, Morales, I hear you," West replied. "What now?"

"LIDAR is picking up bogeys on my six, sir!"

"Damn, not again!" West shouted.

"Nathan, do we break formation and engage?" Hawkes asked.

"Hold your position," West replied. "We are almost at our destination, and are almost out of fuel. Maintain course."

"But, Captain…" Hawkes protested, his voice colored with frustration.

"You heard me, Coop," West ordered sharply. "Herron control, this is 'Wild Cards' Leader. We have bogeys on our six. Do you confirm?"

"Affirmative, 'Wild Cards'," the air traffic controller responded. "We are scrambling fighters to intercept. This is our treat."

"Copy that Herron," West sighed with relief."

A few minutes later, two of Herron's fighter squadrons raced past as they proceeded to engage the enemy. The 58th and the ISSAPC continued on their flight path to Herron. Once they had navigated through the turbulence of atmospheric resistance, they entered the bright sunlight of the Herron morning. All military units kept standard military time with Earth even though they may be light-years away from each other. As such, it was almost 12:00 hours when they reach Herron even though the shadow of the Herron star showed that it was early morning. Finally, the main Herron base came in sight as the ISSAPC and the 58th flew at 1000 meters above ground. They began descending as they approach the airfield.

The base is located at the foot of a small mountain range. The mountains themselves were not that high, only about 1000 meters or so. There were LIDAR antennae installations all along the peak, and anti-aircraft batteries at various strategic intervals. The base itself was about the size of a small town, housing about half of the planet's garrison. It was surrounded by tall antennae towers, separated at equidistant lengths along the base perimeters. The distance between any given two towers was wide enough to accommodate Earth Forces Troop Transports, such as the ISSAPC, as the airfield itself is located within the base perimeter. These towers received electro-magnetic beams from the main antennae, and transmitted them to each other in an interconnecting web pattern. The transmission of the electro-magnetic beams resulted in an energy shield web that was strong enough to protect the base from enemy aerial bombardment. There were two other smaller bases on Herron with the same design. They were located at the planet's polar caps, and the main base was located on the equator. With planetary batteries powerful enough to destroy enemy hive ships at a distance of 500 MSKs and protected by the Valerian electro-magnetic shield, the garrison was able to hold out against constant enemy attacks. Its location in the sector meant that it was in a position to harass enemy shipping to their front line units.

The whole planet had a dry quasi-Mediterranean climate, and the terrain was similar to the desert-like environment of Southern California. The only difference was that above ground indigenous bodies of water were very few. Much of the planet's water sources were located in underground caverns, making it a planet with little oceans and very little significant indigenous plant or animal life.

The ISSAPC managed to land safely with directions from the ground personnel and air traffic controllers. The fighters landed on the tarmac alongside the ISSAPC. A group of medics and technicians boarded the plane. The medics exited carrying Mirk on a gurney as well as Johnson's body. Wellington, Eugene, Lopez, and Chambers disembarked carrying their personal effects; all of them still wearing their environmental safety suits. The 58th climbed out of their cockpits, and took their rucksacks from the small luggage compartments behind their seats. They then joined the crew of the ISSAPC in standing next to Wellington and Eugene.

"Good job, ladies and gentlemen," Wellington said, facing the 'Chaperone' team members. "And, thank you. If you wish to file your grievances regarding my conduct of the situation a few hours earlier, Captain West, you may do so now. Include statements from the 'Chaperone' team members in your report, and I will transmit it to Fleet when I give them my own report."

"That won't be necessary, sir," West responded. "Thanks again for what you did back there."

The team members nodded their acknowledgement of Wellington, and began to disperse. Chambers began to follow the medics to the hospital. The duke placed his hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Get some rest, Chambers," he said empathetically. "There is nothing more you can do for Mirk. Let the doctors do their part."

"With all due respect, sir," Chambers countered. "I prefer to be with Mirk."

"I understand exactly how you feel, Leftenant," Wellington stressed. "That is why you should get some rest. That's an order."

A welcoming reception waited for the Chaperone team members a few meters away. A British officer in his early forties approached them, dressed in full combat gear. "Welcome to Herron, Your Grace," the officer said as he saluted. "I am Colonel Arthur Hastings, your regiment, sir."

"My regiment?" Wellington asked in a perplexed tone. "I don't remember you being part of the Light Infantry, Colonel."

"Sorry, sir," Hastings replied rather coolly. "I mean the Duke of Wellington's Regiment, Your Grace. I am the ranking officer commanding of this garrison."

"Aaah!" Wellington sounded in acknowledgment. "That is the honorary regiment of my family. I, on the other hand, was commissioned into the Light Infantry."

"Understood, sir."

"I presume, Colonel, that you received a transmission from the 15th fleet about my arrival here," Wellington inquired.

"Yes, sir. Six hours ago, I received a coded transmission from the U.S.S. Saratoga that you will be taking command of the garrison," Hastings reported in a business-like manner. "When can we expect the resumption of the relief convoys?"

"All in good time, Colonel," Wellington replied abruptly. "Please assemble all the platoon, company, battalion, and regimental commanders for a meeting in about one hour. I want a full report of the state of the garrison's defenses. Also, kindly find accommodation for my escorts."

"Very good, Your Grace," Hastings responded, making a gesture to another officer. "Will you please come this way?"

Wellington and Eugene followed Hastings to a large building, the command center. A young junior officer, looking no older than 16, approached the rest of the 'Chaperone' crew, and directed them to a smaller building. West, Hawkes, the ISSAPC crew, and the rest of the 58th picked up their gear, and followed the escorting officer.

"Man, of all the places in the Universe, I have to land in the outer space version of 'England'," Hawkes grumbled. "This place is full of them Brits."

"Control yourself, Hawkes," West warned firmly. "This happens to be a British garrison, and we're guests here, okay? Not all of them are like the jerks we ran into at Miramar. Speaking of which, climate wise, this place reminds me of Southern California."

"Too bad there's no beach or surf," came the reply.

"Man, that was some 'fur-ball'," Chambers said with relief.

"I expected you to fly straight to Herron while we took on the Chigs, Lieutenant," West confessed.

"Wellington ordered me to jump into the firefight in order to level the playing field for you guys," Chambers explained.

"If you took the initiative on your own, I would have had grounds to bring you up on charges of abandoning your mission and endangering a superior officer," West replied. "Since Wellington gave the order, you have my gracious thanks instead."

"Yeah, thanks a million, Chambers," Hawkes concurred.

The pilots gave each other 'hi-fives' in acknowledging the success of their mission.

"Where's the mess hall?" Paxton asked happily. "My appetite came back the moment we landed on solid ground."

The 58th all laughed at Paxton's behavior. It was the first time they laughed today. They all entered the smaller building, and went up to the fourth floor. They were directed a room at the end of the hall. Inside they found ten beds lined up in two rows against the walls.

"The communal personal hygiene facilities are located two doors down the hallway," the escorting officer said. "The gents are located on the north side, and the ladies on the south side. The dining facilities are on the ground floor. I suggest you clean up and have a meal. His Grace is expecting you for the briefing in an hour."

"Excuse me, sir," Lopez said. "Where do I sleep?"

"Why here, of course. Is there a problem?" the officer asked innocently.

"Sir, I am an enlisted man," Lopez explained. "It is against regulations for me to fraternize with officers."

"I didn't realize you weren't an officer, Sergeant," the officer said, looking at Lopez's shoulder insignia. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree with your assessment. However, we have been under siege for the past four months. Fraternization is the least of our concerns."

"The sergeant will bunk here with us," Hawkes interjected, causing West to give him a hard look.

"Very well, then," the officer said. "If you require further any assistance, my name is Patrick Nicholson. My friends call me Paddy. By your leave."

"Before you go, Nicholson, do you mind answering a personal question?" West asked.

"Only if it is not too personal, sir," came the reply.

"How old are you?"

"I am nineteen, sir," Nicholson answered as West looked at him quizzically. "Will that be all, Captain?"

"Yes, you may go."

Nicholson stood at attention, saluted, and left the room. Hawkes went to the door, and closed it. He turned to face the others. "Do you believe that guy?" he asked.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" Habib asked.

"Lieutenant Hawkes did not have a good experience interacting with British military personnel," West announced. "With the exception of Major MacKendrick, of course."

"Why can't he speak English properly?" Hawkes asked. "Do I have to listen to this damn fancy speech all the time I'm here?"

"He is speaking English properly, Cooper," West replied with a smile. "You're the one speaking American."

"What is Nicholson's rank?" Paxton asked.

"Boy, I am going to enroll all of you in a military protocol refresher course the moment we get back to the Saratoga," West sighed, shaking his head. "He wore a star on his shoulder epaulettes. That means he is a 'second louie' like you, Paxton."

June 3, 2065. Herron Main Base Conference Room, 13:15 hours.

The entire conference room was filled with officers of the various Earth Forces military units. As the garrison was made up of troops who found sanctuary on the base when they were ejected from their own positions during the Chig offensive, it was an amalgamation of the national units which made up Earth Forces. The bulk of them were British since the base was originally manned by British army units; the Duke of Wellington's Regiment, the Royal Highland Regiment (commonly known as the Black Watch), and elements of the Royal Artillery and Royal Engineers. In addition, there were other national military units as well: two battalions of Belgians from the Royal Regiment of Saxe-Coburg; the 2nd Battalion of the 1st Nassau Regiment of the Royal Netherlands Army; the 4th Battalion of the 4th Brazilian Infantry Brigade; the 3rd Battalion of the Canadian Airborne Regiment; the 3rd Battalion of the Turkish Marine Regiment; the 2nd Battalion of the Peruvian Airborne Division; a company of the 2nd Bosnian-Herzegovinan Regiment; a company of the Fijian military police; and a Namibian infantry company. Out of the 6 fighter squadrons currently based on Herron, only the 58th was American. The rest were also an amalgamation of the various units who managed to escape to Herron, all under the command of a South African Air Force officer. It was a mirror of the United Nations in space.

Everyone stood at attention as Wellington entered through the main door, and walked to the front of the room. He stood in front of computer generated diagrams of the three Herron bases, and faced his audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "my name is Brigadier Adam Wellesley, Duke of Wellington. As of 12:00 hours today, I have assumed command of this garrison. I am also acting as the representative of the Elysian Sector Supreme Commander. At 12:00 hours tomorrow, Earth Forces will launch a counter-offensive against the enemy in this sector; Codename Golden Bullet. We are confident that our actions will regain the military initiative for our side. At that precise moment, the 15th and 6th fleets will engage enemy forces in this sector while the 2nd fleet will move to retake Junipa, Mendanis, Tahara, and Vigo from the Chigs. Once these four planets have been secured, all three fleets will proceed to Herron. We will be the starting point of the follow up strike to regain lost territories from the enemy."

The entire room broke out in whisper-like chatter upon hearing Wellington's announcement.

"How soon can we expect the fleet to join us?" Lieutenant Colonel Mark Lindsay of the Black Watch asked.

"A reasonable estimate is seven days, Colonel Lindsay," Wellington replied. "We expect to subdue the four planets in four days, and it will take another three days for the fleets to reach here."

"What do we do in the meantime, sir?" Major Rustam Zardov of the Bosnian contingent asked.

"Our orders are to hold until relieved, Major Zardov," Wellington said. "The moment the offensive begins, we will do our best to raise Cain in the enemy's lines of communication. We will attack all their reinforcements and shipping towards the front lines. We will do what it takes to ensure the success of the conquest of the four planets as well as to the overall success of this operation."

"Once Golden Bullet begins, the enemy will try to destroy us as part of their counter-attack," Major Wilhelm Brabant of the Belgian contingent said. "Can we hold out until the fleet comes?"

"Major Brabant," Wellington said stoically, "we must hold out at all costs. Ladies and gentlemen, I have informed the Supreme Commander of our situation here. He has promised me that the fleet will try to force a breakthrough as soon as possible. The enemy will try to knock out our gun batteries once they realize the strategic importance of this planet. With the shield operational, they will most likely attack our bases using ground troops. Since we have no mobile armored units on planet, the most logical objective is to maintain a static defense around the perimeter of the bases. The plan is to establish defensive lines about 1 km from the antennae towers. There, infantry and artillery units will repel all enemy assaults."

"What is the role of the fighters, sir?" Squadron Leader Julius Rampele of the South African Air Force asked.

"You will have two roles, Squadron Leader," Wellington replied. "Your objectives are to destroy as many troop transport before they land, and to strafe the enemy columns as they advance towards the bases. You are to do as much damage as you can from the air."

"With just six fighter squadrons, sir?" Rampele added. "We will be overwhelmed by the enemy fighters the moment we take to the air."

"You will not engage the enemy fighters, Squadron Leader," Wellington countered. "You are to avoid contact with them as much as possible. Planetary LIDAR control will direct you to your targets. The objectives are the troop transports, not the fighters."

"Understood, sir," came the reply.

"I don't believe this," Hawkes whispered to West. "Man, this is bogus. He's practically asking us to sit back and do nothing."

"Not now, Hawkes," West said through gritted teeth.

"Sir!" Hawkes called out to Wellington.

"Oh, no," West sighed as he buried his face in his hands.

"Do you have a question, Leftenant Hawkes?" Wellington asked.

"Respectfully, sir," he began, "I believe we should deploy all fighters, and try to shoot down as many Chigs vessels as possible."

Some of the other pilots murmured in agreement.

"As an infantryman, I respect your abilities and experience as a fighter pilot, Leftenant," Wellington replied. "At this point, however, I speak from the perspective of a defensive tactician. When the Chigs come for us, you can be assured of their air superiority. 50 odd fighter planes are not going to do much damage against their armada. Shooting down their fighters may help you in the short run, but it will not help us in the long run. As long as the shields remain functional, their fighters and bombers will not be able to hurt us. However, if they land troops en masse, they will be more than able to overwhelm the whole garrison. I must remind you that there are about 10,000 troops on planet, protecting the three bases. The only way for the enemy to deactivate the shields is to either destroy the antennae towers or the power generators. The only way for them to do so is via ground assault. As such, our priority is to prevent them from landing en masse. Your main targets are the troop transports. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Hawkes replied grudgingly.

Turning to Hastings, Wellington posed a question. "What are our troop deployments?"

"The Belgians and Canadians, under the command of Major Wilhelm Brabant, are manning the northern polar base; the Dutch, Turks, and Brazilians, under the command of Colonel Pedro Bragansa, are manning the southern polar base; and the rest of us are stationed here, Your Grace," Hastings replied.

"I have ordered the quartermaster to issue combat rations, battle gear, supplies, equipment, and a 15 day supply of ammunition," Wellington added. "The ground forces have 24 hours to construct viable defensive perimeters around the three bases. Time is a luxury we can't afford, ladies and gentlemen."

"Fifteen days worth of ammunition and supply, Your Grace?" Lindsay asked.

"That is correct. I want to be prepared for all possibilities. Very good, ladies and gentlemen, you may return to your units," Wellington concluded. "Dismiss!"

The entire room stood up, and proceeded to the exit. West remained in his seat, and the 58th stayed behind as well. "Come on guys," he said. "Let's get acquainted with the other zoomies."

The 58th stood up, and approached the pilots of Herron's squadrons. "We are glad to have you here with us, Captain," Rampele said to West. "Every single plane helps."

"Thank you, Squadron Leader," West replied. "We're glad to help."

"I hope you have an extra plane, sir," Chambers said. "I'd be more useful in a fighter than an ISSAPC."

"Would a B-290 Barracuda fighter/bomber do, Leftenant?" Rampele asked. "We don't have any Hammerheads to spare."

"That is fine, sir," came the reply. "Anything that can fly and shoot will do."

Next : In The Shadow Of Greatness - part 6 of 9

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