Tales From The Kodiak Starport
by Justin Oldham

This book is dedicated to the unique combination of drive, dedication, and open-mindedness that makes the residents of Alaska such a special blend of people. It is my dearest hope that the pioneering spirit which makes our lives such an adventure today will continue to light the way toward an even brighter future among the stars.

NECESSARY MEASURES

Travis Griffin took off his glasses. The hour was late and his eyes burned. "You really want me to get on the jet and go to Anchorage now?"

Seated across from him in the center of a vast, lush office, the installation's security advisor nodded. The silver stubble ringing his head framed a face scarred by shrapnel from three wars. "You heard the President. It's war. That makes us a target. We can't do anything about nukes or bio-chem, but we can be prepared for a commando attack. It's too soon to expect a full-scale landing, but --"

"Knock it off, Rex. I get it," the executive sighed.

The huge bay windows faced the sea. The computer controlling their tint had lightened them to clarity. Cold, grey water lapped at the breakers and gravel shore just 200 meters away.

Griffin looked at his secboss. "Why don't I just call the governor? She can have troops in here before breakfast."

The old soldier shook his head. "This is going to be a quick war. Neither side is prepared. If you let state or federal troops in here, you'll never get them out again. I know this guy out in the Mat-Su; he runs a combat ranch. Through him, we can get ex-military and just enough raw recruits to do this our way. Mercenaries go home when the job is done. That's what we need."

"How much?"

Rex Russell got to his feet. "Get me a million-five in unmarked cash, and I'll get you 50 men who will fight. Tell the Board that's just a down payment, and that my official budget is doubled from now on. We're going to need more than a few dozen knuckle-draggers. I will be shopping off the black market, and they'd better get used to it."

Travis took the company jet to Anchorage. As the short-range VTOL landed at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, he listened to a local radio news broadcast.

"A spokesman for the Air Force has confirmed that a total of nine interceptors were fired from the anti-missile facility at Fort Greely just a few hours ago. Six hostile objects were destroyed. In other war news, the governor has signed an official emergency mobilization order that affects all state employees."

After landing, he quickly to deplaned and cleared inbound security. He and his travelling staff were met on the cab ramp by a company limousine. The chauffeur was well-rested and alert. Travis checked his watch. "We've got three hours before the start of regular business. Take us to the Hilton. Come back for us at 9."

"Will you need anything else?" the driver asked as he wheeled the big car into traffic.

Travis looked at his tired entourage. "Just be downstairs and ready to roll at nine. The rest of you stop what you're doing when we reach the hotel. Nobody works, everybody sleeps. Ninety minutes."

After his nap, Travis showered and put on fresh clothes. He arrived at the Frontier Building with his staff just after 9:30. At his request, senior board members were brought in. At 10:05, he started the briefing.

Resistance to his proposal sprang up as soon as he stopped talking. The chief financial officer, Laura Andrewyuk, got right to the point. "Travis, please. You can't expect us to listen to this. Rex was a good soldier in his day, but come on! He's trying to apply a military solution to what is obviously a corporate problem."

"And the corporate solution is what, exactly?"

"Insurance."

Travis flinched as the other board members nodded. "What? No! Listen to me, all of you. Before I walked in here, I thought Rex was a little paranoid. Now I know he's right. You can't throw money at this, and you can't hide behind a paper shield. If we don't protect our assets, they will be taken from us."

Board President Rupert Crenshaw laid both hands on his ample chest. "We should call the Governor. She can have troops down there in a matter of hours."

Griffin looked hard at the people around the table. "Does anyone remember what happened to Alaska Airlines after their last big labor dispute? Man, these are dangerous times. The federal government doesn't have the cash to prop up troubled companies or to buy shares in them any more. If they want it, they take it. Once they put troops inside your buildings, they own you."

Crenshaw reached for a ledger. "I fail to see --"

Travis slapped the table. "Don't try to dazzle me with dollars. I used to work for NASA. A decent launch system with assembly site and gantries costs up to $70 million. We have three of those on Kodiak. It only takes three smart bombs to wreck one of them. That's what, $20,000 per bomb? Well-equipped commandos or combat engineers can do the same thing for about half that price."

"All of that is covered by our insurance," Andrewyuk replied stubbornly.

Griffin changed tactics. "Suppose we lose the island? What then? Insurance won't pay up for that. We've got launch control and low-orbit tracking facilities under construction that aren't covered by insurance. Not to mention a specialized, one-of-a-kind workforce that would be marched off to the nearest labor camp. No insurance for that, either."

Crenshaw bridled. "You're all but asking us to take sides in this conflict!"

Travis could feel the eyes of the board members on him. He made a show of ignoring the silent majority. "Is that what you're worried about? Man, you need to get out more. If we lose that business, we lose cash flow. My salary is one-tenth of what your so-called 'starport' generates in a year. If you lose your cash flow, you lose me."

Andrewyuk eyed the silent executives. Gauging their mood, she conceded to Travis with a slight bow and a quick nod. "He's right. This doesn't have to be about nationality; it's business. Ever since we denied the feds first-launch priority, they've been mad at us. This war could be just the excuse they need to hurt SFE."

Crenshaw glared at everyone around the table, and then aimed his gaze at Travis. "I wouldn't want to risk having your services go to our competitors, Mr. Griffin. Even so, the idea of mercenaries does sound a bit gauche. Perhaps we need to think long term. What would it cost to put a permanent security presence on Kodiak?"

Travis grinned at his own success. "Mercenaries are unavoidable at this point. We need skill and experience, and we can't afford to wait. We start with a core group. Then we write our own rule book as we go. Startup, with immediate results, should cost us about $1.5 million. On my way here, I worked up some charts. Would you like to see them?"

"I can hardly wait," Crenshaw drawled as he slowly reached for his coffee cup.

The Board voted on Griffin's proposal immediately after lunch. It passed, with seven in favor and one abstention. Shadow Fusion Enterprises had just undertaken its first 'black project.'

By the time he sat down for a late dinner in his hotel room, Travis was thoroughly fed up.

"That's really good news," Rex's voice said through the speaker phone.

Travis chewed and swallowed. "I sold it to them, Rex. That doesn't mean I like it. I have several appointments tomorrow. It'll take five stops to come up with that much untraceable cash. Why couldn't you do this with gold?"

Russell snorted. "A million dollars fits in your briefcase. A million dollars in gold fills up an armored car. I'll go as soon as you get back with the cash."

Travis dropped his fork onto the room service tray. "Rex? When is your contract up?"

"January."

Griffin sat forward on the edge of his bed. "How'd you like to be on permanent salary?"

"I could be talked into it," Rex admitted cheerfully.

Travis got to his feet. "If you're right about our vulnerability, I'll see that you have stock options in two years."

The speaker phone remained quiet for a long moment. "Travis, if I'm right, people are going to die. You can't pay me enough to forget that. I'm not really concerned about your business assets."

Griffin snickered. "Why are you doing this?"

"I hate Chinese food," Rex retorted as he hung up.

Captain Rex Russell (U.S. Army, Retired) had no trouble spending SFE's money. Once Travis provided the currency, Rex went to the Matanuska and Susitna Valleys and made contact with the largest underground arms dealers in the state. Working out of a bed-and-breakfast in Wasilla, he also interviewed both male and female candidates for the new force Two days later, he met with gun runners and mercenaries in Fairbanks. Travis met Rex and his first group of recruits 15 hours after that.

Russell and his mercs came into the space launch facility after midnight aboard a chartered turbo-prop cargo hauler. A flurry of paperwork established the 36 men and 14 women as bona fide security specialists in the employ of Shadow Fusion Enterprises.

"I have to go," Rex said when they were done.

Griffin checked his watch. "Now?"

Rex signalled the plane's pilot to begin pre-flight. "I've got a line on some light armor and squad support weapons. Going to see if I can't buy some triple-A while I'm at it. I'll be back in 48 hours."

"What about them?" Travis pointed to the crowd busily sorting through a pile of uniforms and mismatched gear.

Russell started for the waiting plane. "Leave them alone. They know what they're doing."

Griffin did as Rex had suggested and left the mercenaries to their own devices. For their part, the hired guns worked well with the small guard contingent already in place. They displayed a type of camaraderie that was unfamiliar to him. In daily affairs, they avoided him as much as possible. When they did have to talk with him, it was all business. Travis found this level of professional separation to be unsettling. When Rex got back, he mentioned it.

"They don't trust you," the veteran explained.

Griffin looked at the photos of recently purchased equipment on his desk. "What's the matter? Not enough cool toys?"

Rex guffawed. "Guns and gear don't buy trust. Making payroll ever two weeks without a hitch doesn't buy trust, either. You can screw these guys with just one phone call. You can get them killed by overlooking one small detail. They'll stay away from you until you can prove you're not like that."

"Why do they trust you?"

Russell looked Travis in the eye. "Shucks, man. They don't trust me, not yet. They will, eventually, because I'm the guy who will put a bullet through that pampered skull of yours if you screw with them."

In the days that followed, PRC forces made large gains in eastern Siberia. Mongolian units of the Chinese Army proved especially capable as they advanced over the vast expanse of tundra. Russian forces in the Far East fell back as American politicians continued to promise even larger aid packages.

The interceptor base at Fort Greely continued to provide an effective shield for Alaska and the western U.S. Conventional ICBM's appeared to be no match for this state-of-the-art installation. Even so, the U.S. Army deployed mobile anti-missile batteries to other parts of the state. By the end of July 2025, the western Pacific Ocean had become a killing ground for U.S. and Chinese warships. A total of six Japanese and three Alaska-based floating fish processors were lost to marauding ships, submarines, and shore-based aircraft.

With a large and well-funded security force in place, Travis was able to focus on his job. As each day passed, the war seemed to get further away. Successful space launches continued, bringing financial profit and false confidence. Military planners on both sides of the war envied and coveted the remote rocket site.

Christmas Eve found Travis smothered in holiday cheer, surrounded by co-workers and employees. The festivities were being held in the company dining hall, which was located next to a large apartment block and gymnasium.

Rex barged in, wearing full battle gear. "This party is over," he pronounced rudely.

Travis put down his champagne glass. "What's the problem?"

"Peacock," Russell said as he took cheese from a nearby snack tray.

The code word caused Griffin to flinch. He rose to his feet. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a drill. Go back to your apartments and pack your things. Wait by the phone for instructions. Do not, for any reason, go outside. As soon as we know the exact nature of the situation, we'll get back to you."

Travis walked with his secboss. "If this is a drill, I'm going to have your guts for soup."

Russell shook his head as they went to his office. "Not hardly. There's a PRC troop ship 65 kilometers out. She's off-loading hovercraft."

Travis waited for Rex to clear them through security before asking, "We know this how?"

"My source," Russell snorted and sat behind his desk.

Griffin took a seat nearby. "Hovercraft means commandos, right?"

Rex pointed to a large wall monitor. "Yup. See this map? Here's us. Here's them. Three hovercraft means three squads. Probably weighed down with explosives. No heavy weapons."

Travis blinked. "We're the target?"

Russell opened a desk drawer and took out a pistol. "You know how to use one of these?"

Griffin wiped at the lapel of his tuxedo. "It can't possibly come to that."

Rex shrugged, dropped the gun into the drawer and closed it. "Go be with your people."

Travis stood up and looked at the map once more. "What are you going to do?"

Russell stood up and reached for a helmet. "I'm going to go see if our visitors can swim."

In a matter of seconds, Rex was out the door and into the night. An icy breeze coming in off the Shelikof Strait cut through his insulated clothing and body armor as he trotted down the three flights of metal stairs. Snow crunched under his boots. He slapped on his helmet.

The multi-channel radio came to life as he adjusted his visor. "First Assault Team, go to the western perimeter; second A Team, to the south. Defense Team 1, occupy all upper floors in the central complex. Def-2, mount up and keep the engines running. I'm on my way."

In moments, he was inside the warm cab of a six-wheeled Stryker. The old war surplus vehicle creaked and groaned as it got under way. "Take us to the south shore," he told the driver.

Three more Strykers followed as Rex guided the mercs into defensive fire positions. "Go right to the water's edge. Get your tires wet. Running lights off. Drivers, go to thermal."

The convoy went dark as a huge gust of ocean-powered wind blew chunks of wet snow into their path. It took mere minutes for all four vehicles to be up to their axles in the frigid Bering Sea. Fifty meters separated each vehicle. Casual radio traffic confirmed that all of the defenders were in place.

Rex flipped a switch to activate the short-range vehicle-to-vehicle lasercom. "Observers, activate passive thermal. Turret operators, load AT. Drivers, watch your engine temps and transmission RPMs. We can hold this position for about ten minutes. Any more, and we'll ice up."

The mercs seated behind him in the heated troop bay whispered to each other. They knew the dangers of cold weather combat. The first hovercraft was sighted three minutes into the tense vigil.

"Number 4 reporting. Type 20 hovercraft sighted at three kilometers on full magnification. Rough seas. Moving slow. They could be taking on ice."

Rex watched the remote feed. "The Type 20 is small and underpowered. No wonder they're having trouble in these waters. All units, hold fire."

Fifty seconds later, two more hovercraft were detected. Russell grunted when he saw the 200-meter separation. Using a control wand, he made notes on a tac display that all his team leaders could read. "Units 2, 3, and 4, track targets as assigned. This'll be a one-on-one shoot and scoot. We have to assume these boys have a backup plan. If I'm right, it'll be a submarine with more commandos. As soon as we confirm these kills, we beat feet back to the central complex. Since there's no way to know where those guys will come ashore, we'll just have to be patient."

Silence held for one long minute as the PRC hovercraft approached.

"Why don't they see us?" somebody muttered over the intercom.

Russell keyed his personal mic to respond. "We're in the water, getting colder by the second. The heat generated by our motors is being swallowed by the surf. The bright lights from the main complex are still on, which should make them think they're sneaking up on us. If they're sneakin', they're probably not peekin', which means we look like rocks."

The turret gunner in Rex's vehicle laughed. "Range is now two kilometers."

"Kill 'em," Russell commanded.

Turrets moved. Invisible laser systems painted their targets. Anti-tank missiles roared out of frost-covered launch tubes. Purchased on the black market, these old but lethal wire-guided rockets still found their marks. Rex's thermal-enhanced view bore witness to the tiny white flashes of each impact.

"No kill!" his gunner called out.

Russell jumped in his seat as two more negative reports came in. "Shoot again!"

Rex watched the targets move as his small task force fired the last of their missiles with no effect. The hovercraft were not defenseless, however much he might wish they were. Reactive armor blocks on their sleek aluminum hulls prevented his ordinance from penetrating.

"Range is now 1.5 kilometers," a gunner called out.

Russell didn't want to give up. "Switch to guns."

In the turret of each vehicle, gunners sighted in with rotary cannons. Each gun spun up with a mechanical whine before unleashing a storm of 25 millimeter slugs. These extremely illegal depleted uranium bullets dated back to the first Gulf War. Even so, they inflicted significant damage to each hovercraft they hit.

"I'm out!" Rex heard his gunner call after 2,000 rounds. Knowing that his little force had spent their best weapons, he ordered them to retreat.

Only one enemy hovercraft was confirmed sunk. Slowly, the security vehicles waddled out of the cold water. Congealed ice snapped and crackled as it fell away from each of the armored hulls. As they fled, Rex updated his subordinate commanders and modified his battle plan.

"I think we got their attention. Somebody shut down all the exterior lighting. Do it now. Squad leaders, run a cold weather gear check on all your people. Mobile teams, go to your rally points. The name of the game is fluid defense. Mounted troops will go where they're needed. Everyone else, stay inside and stay warm. Sit tight and prep for ambush."

Russell's column rolled back to the central complex under the cover of darkness. As the four vehicles neared the main assembly building, a sonic boom split the frigid air and shook the ground. High overhead, a Chinese VTOL unleashed fire-and-forget missiles at the building. The single jet was out of the battle area before its four independently targeted weapons found their mark.

From his position in the improvised command shack, Avril Ahgupuk watched his boss die when the tank-breaker missile smashed the lightly armored vehicle he was riding in. Dozens of fiber-optic cameras witnessed the fiery destruction of all four slow-moving LAVs. Earlier in the day, he had discussed the possibility of air attack with Rex. The Eskimo had expected it. Rex had been willing to gamble on the aggressive beach defense. Now he was dead.

Avril keyed his mic. "Number 2 is now in charge. Beach defense is KIA. All remaining vehicles, scatter and go to your ambush points. All teams, refer to Plan B." He looked around, and found that he was alone. Shaking his head, Avril watched the sec teams move to prearranged locations. Minor grumbling could be heard on the intercoms. The remaining LAVs dropped off their squads and parked in shadow-covered defilades. He was ready to answer the executive line when it rang. "Sir?"

"What's going on?" Travis demanded.

The merc leader checked his screens. "Rex is dead. That loud sound you heard was his group being blown off the map. It's going to be a long night. Why don't you have something to drink and try to rest?"

"What should we do?" Griffin asked. He was thrown by the news, but still angry.

Ahgupuk checked his watch. "Tell everyone to stay in their apartments. Keep away from the windows. Have blankets and cold weather gear laid out and ready to use, just in case they cut the power. You won't have any heat if they cut it."

"The power plant is guarded, right?" Travis asked anxiously.

Avril looked at the phone in his hand. "I can't discuss that over this line."

Griffin remembered Rex's drill about unsecured communications. "Okay, then, Avril. I guess it's up to you. Good luck and good hunting."

"Thank you, sir." Ahgupuk nodded and hung up.

With his people tucked in, there was nothing to do but wait. The facility encompassed more than 100 square kilometers. Even with heated transportation, his forces were spread thin. The only good news appeared to be the no-show of the hovercraft.

Avril listened to a sniper team's report. "Launch 3 reporting. Still no sign of anything coming in from the sea. Do you think we scared them off?"

The veteran chuckled into his radio mic. "If it was me, I would have come ashore someplace else. No need to kick in the front door when you can sneak in through the back. We need to be patient. Even if they have cold weather gear, they won't like to stay out in this for very long. If they don't make their move by first light, we'll go hunting."

Avril was relieved by two other men during the night and went to sleep in the hallway. A call from the island's U.S. Coast Guard station at Old Harbor woke him at 4:30 a.m. "Yes?"

The wireless connection was crystal clear. "This is Commander Murray at the air station. We're getting civilian calls from Ahkiok. Somebody shot the Village Public Safety Officer. I know him. He's not stupid. You guys had any trouble out there?"

Avril stood up and cleared his throat. "It's all quiet here."

Murray cursed. "Say, man, let me give you some inside dope. The governor told us to open up the Reserve barracks and turn on the heat. I think she's going to put troops out here. Watch your six."

Ahgupuk hung up. Tugging at his clothes, he struggled with his options. Five minutes later, he was in Travis' apartment.

"Sit," the executive offered as he pulled on an insulated bathrobe.

Ahgupuk rested his weary body on a leather couch. "Kodiak is a quiet place. The villagers keep to themselves. I could retire out here, someday. Ahkiok is northwest of here. Good terrain if you don't want to be seen. Just the sort of place a Chinese commando group might want to hide."

Griffin poured coffee. "I've been in Alaska long enough to know that VPSOs get killed all the time. How do we know this one isn't just another alcohol- or drug-related homicide?"

Avril took the cup Griffin offered to him. "The man from the Coast Guard I talked to on the phone said he knew the man. I accept that. There is also the timing. This is the wrong time of year for that sort of thing. Drugs and alcohol are a factor out here, but not until after the holidays. Mr. Griffin, we have a bigger problem."

Travis looked up from his coffee. "Which is?"

The stocky man opened his parka. "Sorry, I'm overheating. The governor is sending troops out here. They're getting ready for it at the Coast Guard base."

Travis put down his cup. "What time is it? Hmm. Not quite 5. Somebody got to her."

The mercenary blinked. "Sir?"

Griffin straightened. "Here's how it plays, Avril. The governor plans to put National Guard troops on the island. Once they're secured the island, they'll move in to 'protect' the facility. As soon as they have enough troops and tanks on our turf to make us behave, the President of these United States will federalize those troops. Once that happens, Congress will make us an offer we can't refuse."

"Rex told me about that," Avril mumbled.

"I've got to do something," Travis fretted.

Ahgupuk slurped his coffee. "Yes, you do."

Griffin slumped. "I can't keep the Army out. The Board has given me a lot of discretion, but they won't tolerate that. The legal bills and the bad press would wreck the company." He paused, thinking. "Avril? How dangerous are those commandos? After what happened last night, they've got to know we're on guard. Will they attack?"

The merc put down his empty cup. "I don't know who Rex got his intell from. Even so, there is a small chance we're getting worked up about nothing. If they are here, they will attack."

"How can you be so sure?" Travis countered.

Avril scratched his beard stubble. "We probably outnumber them ten to one. That's not a real advantage because we're so spread out. They didn't come here to take this place away from you. They came to blow something up. If they can't do that, they'll probably leave."

The administrator seized on that. "If we lose any part of this facility, we're shut down."

Avril thought for a moment, then said, "Rocket fuel." He mimed an explosion.

Griffin shuddered. "Figures. They would be after the most expensive thing."

"We...might...be able to hang on to that until the Army gets here."

Travis weighed his options. "There might be a way to pull this out of the fire. I'll need to speak to the Board. How long do you think it will take the Army to get here?"

Ahgupuk wiped sweat from his brow, considering. "Tomorrow morning?"

Griffin stood up. "Look, Avril. I need to shoot straight with you. Rex told me some unpleasant things about mercenaries. If I asked you to hold this complex and keep that rocket fuel plant safe until the Army gets here, could you do it?"

Avril shuffled. "Nobody bugged out after Rex was killed. A lot of guys died, too. We had no desertions before I came to see you. I'd say that gives you 50/50 odds that most will fight. You could improve those chances with pay bonuses."

Travis started to pace. "How many men do you have left?"

"Forty-one," the merc announced after a silent count.

Griffin looked around his spacious apartment. "Um."

Ahgupuk did his own math. "Half a million dollars, to be split among the survivors. Paid after the Army gets here -- off the books."

"That's robbery!" Travis yelped.

Avril went to a shelf and picked up tiny model rocket. "My brother has a son who is going to school in Fairbanks. He says you guys sell rocket fuel for a $690 a liter. If these rockets run like my truck, you're selling a lot of gas. That means you're making a lot of money. I think my price is fair."

Griffin stepped back. "If the plant is heavily damaged or destroyed, you don't get a dime."

The veteran mercenary sighed. "You catch on fast."

Travis laughed. "Not fast enough."

Even with the offer of pay bonuses, 21 disaffected legionnaires quit. Leaving guns, gear, and uniforms behind, they headed for Old Harbor and the airport.

Knowing that the defections would be observed, Ahgupuk moved all of his remaining troops to the rocket fuel plant. Avoiding the civilian workers, he spent several hours with his trusted subordinates. Together, they planned a flexible defense.

"Who's going to tell the boss?" one of them asked.

With his coat off and shirtsleeves rolled up, Ahgupuk rapped bare knuckles on the map table. "We're not telling Travis anything. He's on the phone with his bosses. Got some brilliant plan to save his job. No, this is easy money if we just stay out of his way. The PRC won't come until after dark. By then, we'll have observation posts and snipers in place. Any firefight will be short and fast."

The day wore on as Griffin hatched his plan. Nervous employees remained in their apartments, uncertain of their future. In the hills overlooking the rocket launch complex, electronic ears listened in on unshielded wireless phone traffic while thoughtful, computer-aided eyes read unencrypted e-mail. The objective was in chaos -- all according to plan.

Later that night, a storm blew in from Siberia, carrying wind, sleet, and snow. Scattered around the north perimeter of the ten-acre rocket fuel plant, Ahgupuk's men shivered from more than the cold. Visibility was down to less than 300 meters.

As expected, the attack, when it came, was quick and furious. Coming down from the high ground, a dozen all-terrain vehicles sprinted through snow less than five centimeters deep. On-board ECM and clever camouflage, combined with electric drives to give the heavily armed ATVs the element of surprise.

At just 200 meters, a sentry called in his report. "North tower reporting, I have thermal. Fast movers. I count 12. AT, have you got my laser?"

Inside one of the remaining Strykers, Avril turned to his driver. "Go."

Shooting from concealment, SFE's mercs opened up with a combination attack. Snipers took careful aim at exposed drivers while anti-tank missile operators led their targets in hopes of a quick kill. Reflectors on the enemy vehicles discouraged two of the four sighting systems that tried to draw a bead on them.

One direct hit lit up the frosty night as Avril's vehicle reached the north perimeter. Sponson-mounted miniguns on the ATVs threw sheets of lead and red tracer fire. Each enemy crew, clad in anti-ballistic cold weather gear, remained focused and in control despite the stiffening defense.

A second anti-tank round found its mark as the attackers came within 100 meters of the complex. Ahgupuk's reserve troops dismounted as 7.62 millimeter steel-jacketed rounds tore into the outer buildings of the fuel refinery.

"They're coming in too fast!" somebody called through an open channel.

Avril ordered his driver to take the vehicle out into the open. The old LAV scuttled forward as the turret gunner tracked and fired.

At 75 meters, the fast-moving enemy commandos began to take casualties from the narrowing fields of fire put up by the defenders. Green tracers cut through the night in a withering scissor movement with devastating results.

Ahgupuk got out of his vehicle as a directed-blast mine went off ten meters away. Steel shot fanned out into the path of the approaching vehicles. Frozen circuits and failed insulation prevented three more claymore-style mines from going off.

Rocket-propelled grenades leapt from the ATVs as two more of them exploded. Fired at a high angle by individual soldiers, the charges flew deep into the complex before exploding.

Frustrated, Avril went prone in the snow. Flicking out the bipod on his weapon, he turned the night scope on and put power to the holographic display. Snow and grit slid down his neck as 25 millimeter autocannon rounds whipped by overhead. A rocket fired from the turret of his vehicle lit the ground like a flare as it passed overhead. The leading ATV went up in a fountain of flame just 50 meters away.

Tiny fires began to appear in the nearest buildings. Despite the cold, the various RPGs, tracers, and hot lead still found flammable targets. Watching the fight through a serious of remote cameras, Travis marvelled at the destruction as two more enemy vehicles were destroyed. He looked away when he caught sight of burning bodies.

Pausing to change clips, Ahgupuk knocked the frost off his helmet radio. "Cavalry, go!"

Two snowmobiles burst from the darkness with running lights on. The high performance sleds could do 200 KPH on flat open ground. Dressed in bright colors, the snowmachine drivers dared all as they blew through the enemy formation, scaring drivers and gunners. One of the ATVs rolled as its panicked driver tried to avoid the apparently suicidal racers.

Six of the fast moving ATVs made it into the interior perimeter of the fuel processor. Four were destroyed by improvised explosive devices the defenders had set in ambush. The explosions shook the ground as the surviving mercs regrouped. Sirens wailed, giving voice to the vision of new fires blossoming. Smoke filled the night air as Avril struggled to get a head count.

"Six down," somebody reported.

Ahgupuk ran to his LAV. "Cavalry, find those ATVs! Everyone else, regroup!"

In the time it took Avril to rally his men, the commandos had reached their objective. They dismounted and began to lay shaped-charge explosives around a trio of very large chemical storage tanks. Once vehicle support had been secured, Ahgupuk's men enveloped the attackers, and a new firefight began.

From his office, Travis argued with the mercenary leader via secured wireless remote. "I can see what you''re doing through the security cameras. Those tanks won't hold up to your gunfire."

Inside the cab of his LAV, Avril scowled at his phone. "We've go them pinned down with heavy weapons. If they can't escape, they might blow the tanks."

"Might?" Griffin squeaked.

Automatic cannon rounds rapped out a mechanical tap as a mercenary gunner systematically destroyed one of the surviving ATVs. Ahgupuk waited for the gunner to reload. "These guys are hard core. If we don't deal with them quickly, they might decide to go out with a bang. You know what I mean?"

Travis hung up. A dozen small screens on the far wall of his office displayed the carnage in crisp plasma clarity. His nervous stomach jumped as the phone rang. "Griffin," he croaked.

It was Crenshaw. "The deal has been made."

"Glad to hear it," Travis mumbled as he watched one of his defenders fall to enemy fire.

"You've saved us a small fortune, Travis. I should think you'd be --"

Griffin turned away from the monitors. "Thrilled. When does the Army get here?"

"Is something wrong?" the chairman asked.

"We're good," the administrator lied with a catch in his throat.

Crenshaw looked at his desk clock. "Actually, I have waited a bit to give you this news. Hope you don't mind the delay. I'd heard something about a few of your troops defecting and I didn't want to get in the way of anything important. The Board is very impressed with you. I've heard talk of new stock options."

Travis refused to let his incipient anger boil over. He slouched in his chair. "Really? That means a lot coming from you, Rupert. I was under the impression that you didn't like me."

The fat man chuckled. "I don't, but I can't argue with your success. Frankly, I never expected a solution like this from a man with your background. I would almost suspect you of being a mercenary...if I didn't know better."

Griffin cringed when two of his closed-circuit monitors went dark. "Difficult times call for unconventional solutions, Mr. Chairman. Offering the government a full-service lease for five years with the option to renew seemed like the best way out of this mess. Now, if the Chinese do attack, we'll be ready for them. Once the Army gets here."

Crenshaw hesitated. "They haven't attacked?"

"Nope." Travis used a remote to turn off the bank of monitors.

The wily financier cleared his throat. "In that case, you'd better wake the cook. Your cafeteria should be full of hungry GIs any minute now. Hope you don't mind. When she got the order to federalize those troops, the governor may have promised their commanding officers a hot meal on arrival."

Griffin mouthed a silent obscenity and hung up. He dialed Avril's number. The wireless connection to the mercenary leader was now thick with static. "Avril? Cavalry's on it's way. We're supposed to expect help any time now." Background noise chopped up the reply, making it unintelligible. Travis turned off the phone and put it in his pocket. Reaching for his parka, he ran for the door. He paused to give orders to the few people he saw, then ran down three flights of stairs. Out in the cold, he leapt into a small tracked vehicle. With yellow lights flashing, he sped off toward the only paved road linking the launch site with the rest of the island.

Inside the rocket fuel plant, casualties on both sides mounted. With their ATVs destroyed, the remaining PRC commandos took cover as close to the chemical storage tanks as possible. Mercenary snipers were frustrated by a dense network of braces and struts. Large-diameter pipes close to the ground, each built to withstand the cold weather, provided both sides with protected from small arms fire.

"It's a stand-off," Ahgupuk's turret gunner muttered through the intercom.

Avril scanned the area with a hand-held thermal imager. "They know."

"What are you talking about?" the gunner asked after a long, thoughtful pause.

The merc boss put down his imager. "We can't rush them. It would be suicide if we tried. They have to know that. If we don't get them, the cold weather will."

The driver snorted. "We can stay warm. They can't. I say we wait them out."

The gunner kicked the back of the driver's seat. "That only leaves them with one choice."

Avril grunted. "How long do you suppose it takes a demolition charge to freeze?" The question effectively silenced everyone in the compartment.

"Vehicle approaching," somebody called through the squad's radio link.

Ahgupuk switched on a dashboard monitor and dialed in the refinery's camera net. Fumbling with the controls, he caught sight of the small tracked vehicle and its yellow flashers and headlamps. It was thrashing its way through the snow, leaving wide ruts behind. A long line of military trucks followed. Despite having all-weather tires, many of the vehicles skidded or fishtailed as they tried to stay on the path being cleared for them.

The arrival of reinforcements soon became apparent to the invaders. After a brief negotiation, they surrendered to the promise of good treatment. With some orchestration, the mercenaries pulled back to allow federal forces to accept the surrender and take control of the prisoners.

Using his wireless phone, Travis gave orders for plant personnel to put out the multitude of small fires that filled the area with eye-stinging smoke. Finding his way to a gathering of mercenaries, he watched for several minutes as the wounded were being tended. Working with a trio Army medics, the survivors helped to get their comrades into the nearest buildings for warmth, more detailed triage, and improvised surgery.

Avril peeled off his bloody parka and tossed it aside. "Five dead and ten wounded."

Griffin turned in his tracks. "Say that again?"

The sweaty soldier pointed at the nearest man on a litter. "Five of my men are dead. Another ten are wounded. One of them is probably going to lose a hand. I hope this was worth what you paid."

Surrounded by the results of battle, the executive didn't know what to say. "I...yeah. You saved the rocket fuel plant. If we had lost this, there wouldn't be any point to staying on this island. We're going to pay. You have my word."

Ahgupuk kicked at the frozen ground. "I've been around, you know? I've fought to get oil. I've fought to protect oil. I've been paid to protect a few gold mines, too. What's the future in this place? Why is it worth fighting for?"

Griffin pointed at the sky. "Space."

Avril looked up. "I don't understand."

Travis pulled him away from the crowd. "'Up there' isn't really the right choice of words. More like 'out there,' or some such. Other planets, Avril. The Moon, Mars; they've got raw resources we can use. That's why we're on this island. Companies like the one I work for are planning ahead. When the time is right, we're going to go get those recourses."

Ahgupuk pointed to a long line of military trucks. "What about them?"

Griffin smiled. "Presidential order. We made a few campaign contributions and turned over a few gigabytes of data that the administration wouldn't like the media to get their hands on. After that, it was all paperwork. We have a five year lease with the Feds now."

The Eskimo shook his head. "You paid them to rent your stuff?"

"We did."

Avril looked up at the starless night. "The others won't think like I do, but..."

Griffin laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "The job is yours if you want it."