“Fox-Con, pop the lids on all four hatches for battery one.”
“Lids open, one through four, battery one, aye.”
“Set inferno missiles for stagger launch, sensor det. We don't want to let all those dogs off the chain, only to have them blow the roof off.”
The technician echoed and confirmed the command. “Missile one unlocked, missile two through four staggered on the clock. Sensor nose on two through four primed, sir.”
“Fox-Con, send it.”
The fire control officer didn't hesitate. The shudder from the missiles vibrating the medium destroyer caused some of the standing personnel to reach for the ICOM pylons situated around the bay. Techs sitting at their stations took a moment to experience the powerful engines thrusting the weapons from the ship in atmosphere, a medium they rarely fought in.
The first missile roared out of the clouds to strike the dome. A monolithic blast wave passed over the structures, rippling the air as the shield took the brunt of the damage. Another projectile sailed in right behind, shuddering the energy field with its fury. The third impact wafted over the dome, its onslaught smashing hexagonal panels along the dome's surface. The last missile detonated high over the structure, showering it with the tinkling of fragments for anyone close enough to hear.
Moon worked through the sensor readings before calling to his crew. “Commo, tag the Valiant. The shield is down. Tell them it's good to knock on the door!”
“Aye, sir.” the technician called back.
“CMC Campbell, looks like we broke something loose on that last salvo.” Commander Moon reported to the senior NCO.
“Aye, sir. Dispatching a crew to lock it down.”
“Sir, we're catching all the scans from Majestic Squadron. They're sending up some strange power readings from the hangar dome, now that the shield is down,” called the sensor officer.
“Copy. Tell them to fly angry. CMC, tell the crew to lock down that equipment on the move. I have a bad feeling they're about to roll out the welcome mat.”
The Command Master Chief Petty Officer swung her way between the pylons, relaying orders to different groups. “Sir, these bruisers can barely speak the language and they definitely can't write it. You sure you want me to have them walk and chew at the same time?”
“Chance we'll have to take, CMC. I'd rather risk choking than roll heavy with our pants down.”
“I have no idea what that means, sir, but we'll get it done!”
Ragnarok banked the fighter for the umpteenth time in orbit above Objective Timber. He hated this part. Air defense artillery on a non-military target was more than unusual. Unfortunately, it had been the norm as of late. It seemed that every time Task Force Redemption got involved with this certain marshal, they were getting shot at with serious tech in the hands of folks who should absolutely not have it.
“Majestic lead, this is Valiant-21-Oscar, be advised, ADA is down. I say again, Air defense is down. You are clear to approach from the south. Guns are still active to the north. How copy, over?”
“Good copy, 21-Oscar. We are talons out and inbound, approaching Objective Timber on assigned lane. Majestic out.”
Lieutenant Commander Brandon Powers checked over the status holo. All Tiger-Hawks assigned to him were reading green across the board, just the way he liked it prior to throwing the first punch. Making his way into the flight core of the Elysian Navy was a dream come true. Earning his way onto an Athalon-sanctioned task force was more than he could ever hope for. He had the open sky and a target rich environment. Life was good. “All Majestic elements, this is Majestic lead. We are talons out on Objective Timber. Come around to four-one degrees magnetic, riding the deck at seven-zero meters.”
“You can tell when it's going to be hells in a hand basket on a simple run, when Ragnarok sounds all happy,” said Majestic-2
“Anyone else notice he got out of the rack practically singing? He didn't even make chow this morning. We're doomed,” Majestic-4 answered with mock dread in her voice.
Powers cut their fun short. “Knock off the chatter. Dropping to seven-zero at four-one magnetic. Increase speed to twelve-five-zero. We're running under the A-LATs to hit that dome hard. Acknowledge my last, over.”
The last of the squadron had signaled in the affirmative when another missile struck the main blast door of the structure. The door practically folded in on itself with the shock wave of the impact.
“Hold onto the stick, kids! Shock wave's rolling off the objective.” Powers ordered.
“What was that?” Majestic-2 asked into the comms. The shaking of the star fighter made it sound like he was talking through an earthquake.
“Krodon Missile. It's a heavy bunker buster used during the Exodus Wars. Of course, we're the only crew that still carries them.”
“How does anyone else manage?” Majestic-4 spat into the radio.
“Majestic Lead, this is Majestic-3, we are passing beneath the strike force. That other ship ahead of it just disappeared from the scopes. “
“Three this is Lead. Briefing said there would be unconventional elements working this op. If it was part of our strike package we'd know. Majestic-2 and 3, push speed to the other side of that hill and dump your stern fired payload. We still have ADA on that ridge. All other Majestic elements on me. We're going to close the door on that hangar!”
Two and Three shot forward, almost tripling their speed in a heartbeat. Waves of vapor burst in a cone on each plane as they shot through the atmosphere. Rising to two hundred meters above the surface, they executed one of the more risky maneuvers the Tiger-Hawks were known for. Both pilots waited until they were locked on by the air defenses on the other side to activate their countermeasures. Blinding flares and sensor confusing buoys were launched along with a complement of sensor seeking micro-missiles. Once the payload was dumped, the two ships went vertical, running for orbit. PDCs and heavy blaster cannons tried to shoot down the duo with a tornado of high energy pulses. They only succeeded in painting the sky in pretty colors of light.
The anti-ADA munitions collided with their intended targets, pulverizing the two PDCs. The heavy blaster turret was severely damaged in the attack, but seemed to be attempting to swivel in its gyroscopic housing. If it could still fire, it had a limited field of engagement.
The rest of the squadron shot past the hill, circling around in tight loops on their attack run back at the hangar.
“This is Majestic Lead, getting some funky readings from inside that hangar. All Majestic elements, you are weapons free. Target that blast door and trap whatever they have inside!”
There were no signals of affirmation; the fighters just let loose the firepower from beneath their fighters. Multiple streaks of vapor trails followed missiles from their housings to the target, exploding in flourishes of sparks. The force of the impact pounded in the massive duradium doors. Ventral-mounted blaster cannons splashed against the frame like waves crashing to shore, further heating the metal to weld them to their frame, never to open again.
“Good hit! Good hit! Two and Three, recover formation at three hundred meters at two klicks on my beacon, how copy?” Powers called.
“Majestic Lead this is Majestic-2! We have concentrated blaster fire coming from that door we just locked.”
The dome on the other side of the welded blast door shattered. Bits of resicarbon-enforced pro-steel rained down on the icy valley from the force of an explosion to the hangar's side. A wing of fighters shot from the smoking ruin like flechettes out of a Xoban scattergun. The planes were an older model of aerospace fighter, the Scimitar class, used heavily by certain CORAL defense forces in the early days of the Exodus Wars. They'd become a favored attack vehicle by certain pirate clans big enough to field either a base or a ship capable of carrying them.
“Scimitars heading for atmo,” Majestic-2 called into the comm.
“Negative, they're circling around,” Powers called back to the group. “Accelerate to attack speed. Lead them int
o the upper atmosphere. These things always had a problem with the gravitic drive planes trying to choose between natural and artificial gravity for maneuvering.”
“There's nearly twenty of them and only eight of us!”
“Not for long Majestic-3. BREAK. Redemption Lead this is Majestic Lead. We are outgunned by twenty scimitar class fighters bearing down on us from Objective Timber. We're going to lead them away from the Destroyers. Request launch of remaining Majestic flights to my airspace, how copy, over?”
“This is Redemption Lead, we are launching 3rd Flight to you and keeping 4th in reserve in case things get tricky up here. Will monitor the situation and launch additional as needed, how copy, over?”
“Majestic Lead, roger out.” Powers spat the words with as much venom as he could muster. They were outgunned nearly three to one. It would take some angry driving to get his crew out of this. He looked over to the cherub faced holo-pic he had on one corner of the cockpit. The only way out of these hells was through them and back to her. His Valkyrie. His girl.
Pulling the ship into a tight climb, Powers pushed the throttle. Time slowed as the speed increased, bringing the hornets' nest they had just kicked into sharp focus. This was where he was most truly alive, at the end of all things, when everything he had been could end in one wrong move.
Warning indicators showed the path of Flight-3 leaving the Betty. It was another part of the plan he was forming to wipe out whatever mercenary pilots these thugs had hired.
Powers let the drive planes swing his ship around, giving it a moment of hang time like being at the top of some crazy swing right before gravity had its way. He dove through the middle of the current, forcing the incoming ships to veer off or risk the worst game of flinch imaginable. He loosed strafing fire from twenty millimeter blaster cannons to rake across several evading craft on his way through the rush. Smoke trailing from the damaged fuselages acted like blood on the clouds for the sky sharks that were Majestic Squadron to finish off what their boss started.
Majestic-2 chased down one of the damaged planes on its dive toward the ice. It wagged in an attempt to dodge the front-facing cannons and the eventual target lock it knew would come. Two let a smile creep onto his face as the target swung in front of his locking reticle. His smile faded when the fighter began tumbling end over end, appearing as if the damage had blown a stabilizer. Through the bobbing smoke, two missiles were fired off the cuff with no target lock. The first sailed harmlessly by, while the second blasted just below the Tiger-Hawk's cockpit, incinerating Majestic-2 in a ball of flame that crashed into the snow capped ridge below. Almost succumbing to the pull of gravity and the sudden stop it always caused, the Scimitar pilot managed to right the craft in time to pull up, rocketing back into the fight.
Powers couldn't believe the displays of air superiority the clumsy ships were exerting over his pilots. Whether in the high atmosphere where the enemy fighters should be having problems or flying across the planet below, the Scimitar pilots were defying the odds like a gambler counting cards. In the time it took to watch Majestic-2 to burn in, three more of his fighters had been splashed into the ice. Gritting his teeth against his anger, Powers chased another target lock. He let a missile fly against one ship as soon as the reticle blared that it had the kill. Not bothering to wait, he swerved in frantically shooting a Damocles missile at three Scimitars diving at him. The weapon exploded ahead of the rush, spreading ion-charged micro-flechettes into the ships to rob them of all power, flaccidly pounding them into the surface. Spinning away like a dancer going off stage, Powers circled into the oncoming 3rd Flight.
“Their names were Reneau, Sabiritu, Collins, and Dexter. Put those names on every missile you let off the chain. Ram it down their throats all the way to the ground! All 3rd Flight elements on me. Tail formation straight at them and then scatter peel. Make 'em pay!” Powers shouted into the comm.
He forgot the picture on his instrument panel. He forgot his real name. He was Ragnarok, the end of all things.
“Sword-Com this is Coyote-Wild 2-7. We are max burn above you. Valiant Lead said that we have AR-Vs up ahead.”
Mara grimaced at the term Sword-Com. The radio call sign for a Marshals Templar Force Commander. Now she'd be forced to wear that label until she was able to appear before the Shield Council to speak about her actions. Task Force Redemption was hers until it wasn't. The only thing coming along to lighten her mood was that call sign. Coyote-Wild 2-7. They'd worked together on a pirate thing deep in the frontier prior to the start of all this. She'd never met the woman personally but hearing her over the radio was like getting a call from an old friend.
“Coyote-Wild 2-7 this is Sword-Com. I have hornets buzzing me. Having a hard enough time shooting them off. You got that AR-V for me, over?”
“Cost you a steak and a bottle of something I can't afford.”
“Done!”
The energetic roar and subsequent boom of four Badger medium close air support fighters passing above the slower moving task force nearly rattled the crew out of their seats. Mara didn't have time to worry about the tanks. They were Coyote's problem. She locked onto another Scimitar fighter, leveling the Odin's twin rotary blasters in an attempt to swat the thing from the air. It had strafed them once, testing the shield with its nose gun. The thump-thump-thump-thump of the blaster cannon pinged the defensive grid but didn't penetrate. They'd have to try harder than that.
Unfortunately the pilots driving these ancient war birds weren't acting like run of the mill mercs. They learned from the first engagement. After the thud guns were useless, they settled on missiles. And also unfortunately for the task force, they had a lot of missiles. In their favor, Brasson was working the Odin's defensive drones like he was born to it.
While there wasn't a lot the Scimitars could do to the Odin's Folly, the A-LATs were faring much worse. Strafing duos of enemy war planes were zeroing in on single transports, overwhelming their shields, then pummeling them into the hard pack. They'd lost two of the twenty five that were in the air, with several more smoking from incidental hits. While the A-LATs were fortified against directed fire from the ground, air to air combat was not their forte. The Scimitars were smacking them around like a school yard bully.
A Scimitar, fresh from knocking down another Aspis, slammed two thud gun hits on one of the Coyotes. The offended ship peeled off from the other three, looking to give as good as it got. Coyote-Wild 2-7 continued to run to the target, never flinching, not even when two Sidewinder Class Hover Tanks bounded up from the snow on their repulsors. The main guns on both vehicles fired, nearly causing an avalanche from the hill above. The badger gun ships kept on their approach, letting the unguided rail gun round fly right by her, straight into one of the A-LATs carrying a belly full of marines.
“Hey girls, little boys are trying to hit us with their big stick. What do we think about that?”
Heavy-barreled vortex cannons set on the bottom of the ship burped out a tremendous stream of thirty-millimeter violence. The blaster bolts blew huge chunks of ice into the tanks on their track to target. The armored Sidewinders took a severe beating from the 2-7's wing men, dumping their payload of high cycle death before banking for a higher altitude. 2-7 stayed on target, letting two of her Warbreed missiles off the chain.
“Two on the loose. Coyote-Wild 2-7 chasing the sky!”
The missiles sailed into the tanks, perforating the armor after the other Badgers had ruined their shields. The weapons ignited the weapon payloads for both vehicles, the explosion so violent it blanked out the sensors for the oncoming task force for a few seconds. All that was left of the Sidewinders were desiccated husks of reinforced duradium laying in craters deep enough to hide a thumper.
On her frantic climb, Coyote-Wild 2-7 smashed into two oncoming fighters, the Badger's armor tearing through the light skin of the enemy fighters. The other three were already engaging, using set up tactics with the faster moving Tiger-Hawks to take out the surprisingly agile Scimi
tar fighters. The Badger leader took her ship in a high loop, redirecting the nose back toward the ground and coming up from the rear of the task force formation. If any of the aggressors broke through the screen being formed by Majestic, the more heavily armed and armored medium support fighter was there to kick them back the other way or put them out of the game completely.
“Thank you, much, Coyote-Wild 2-7! Nice shooting!” Mara called into the comm.
“Don't forget me on that meal. Mama's got to keep her spirits up!”
An instant message flashed into Mara's HUD. A picture link of a woman in a flight uniform, holding her helmet onto a young girl's head as she balanced on the cockpit ladder. The name tape on her jacket read Williams.
“Roger that 2-7. BREAK. Sword-Com to Delta Hotel Seven, have Delta Hotel Four-One drop both heavies for CAS-cover on objective Timber. Ping Junkyard Lead for heavy-drop on Broken Forest. Utilize for perimeter and ADA. Deploy Charlie, Delta and Hotel companies for cleanup. Other two on my lead to Objective Timber, how copy?”
Zane signaled back he got the message. There was also a clear response from Lieutenant Colonel Ford, the marine's Battalion Commander. Apparently, serving in an operation this complex was nothing new to the salty marine. He was the kind of guy who could put rounds on target all while using minimal language to maximum effect to maneuver his marines for the same. He didn't respond directly, only bothering to send a data packet with a quick reference slide that jumped into the Devil-Hunter's HUD.
Zane flashed a thumb's up toward the cockpit. “Got to love when you let the hounds off the chain and they already know where to put their teeth!”
Twenty-Eight
Green laser designators swept the icy cavern as two mechanized soldiers descended from the entrance.
“Merlin.” Romeo said.
Small drones shot from a hard case on the soldier-mech's back, creating an interlocking optical web for anyone wearing combat ocular systems.
The Revenant: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 2) Page 35
