by Lucas Marcum
The reporter grimaced. “I’ll pass, thanks. What’s…”
The radio crackled and broke in, “Angel Flight, Valhalla Actual.”
“Valhalla Actual, Angel Flight Lead. Go ahead, Colonel.”
“Angel Flight, I have a medevac request for you. Might get a bit dicey for the regular medevac birds, so we’re sending you in.”
Wilkes and Mick exchanged a look, then Wilkes keyed the mic. “Let’s hear it, Sir.”
The colonel’s voice came back, his tone clear, hard, and no nonsense. “I’ll lay it on you, fellas. We have a unit of Marine infantry and a field artillery unit in a jam, call sign Anvil. They’re surrounded by Elai infantry on a hilltop and taking casualties. You’re the only Valkyrie-equipped medevac assets in range. Anvil Six is reasonably certain they can hold the DZ, but cannot guarantee you won’t take fire. In fact, you will, and probably a lot of it. We don’t have any heavy weapons reported, but again, we cannot guarantee it. If possible, we want you to get in there and get those Marines out.”
Wilkes responded, “Understood, Valhalla Six. Stand by.” He released the radio key.
Wilkes looked at Mick, who shrugged, and said, “You know me, Sir. I’m down for whatever. Plus, I’ve got a soft spot for the artillery. My little brother is a cannon cocker. Ask the med crew, though. This could get pretty hot.”
Wilkes nodded and keyed the mic to speak to the crew in back, who had been listening in. “Team, thoughts?”
From the rear of the aircraft, Captain Elizabeth Suarez responded immediately, “We’re in, Steve. We have plenty of supplies. We might even be able to drop some of the extra to them.” In the small screen that displayed the rear of the aircraft, he could see the flight nurse giving him a thumbs up.
Sergeant Brian Agawa, the flight medic, chimed in, “If Two’s in, let’s do this.”
Wilkes keyed his mic to speak to the other ship in their flight. “Angel Two, Angel Lead. Fury, you copy that?”
Angel Two’s pilot, Major Elise Moreno, responded in a calm voice, “Lead, Two. We’re in.”
Wilkes grinned and responded, “We knew you would be, Two. Angel Lead, out.” Wilkes keyed the command net again. “Valhalla Actual, Angel Flight Lead.”
“Angel Flight, Valhalla Actual, go.”
“We’re in, Colonel. Ping us coords and any info you have on Elai forces in the area. Also, if the grunts have a radio that can reach, the freq and encrypts.”
“You got it, Angel Flight. Be safe, and if you can’t be safe…well. You know the deal. Good luck. Valhalla Actual out.”
The onboard computer chirped, indicating they’d received the new coordinates. Wilkes tapped the controls, and the big aircraft banked and accelerated towards its new destination.
The reporter sitting where their crew chief usually sat sighed. “You know, I’m glad we’re going to get these guys out, but I’m SO not looking forward to getting shot at again and not shooting back. It goes against every fiber of my being as a former Marine.”
Mick grinned and replied, “What, shooting film ain’t good enough for ya?”
The reporter looked forward at Wilkes. “You know, Captain, your co-pilot’s a real wiseass.”
Wilkes chuckled. “You don’t gotta tell me.” His instruments flashed, and he keyed the mic again, this time speaking to Angel Two. “Two minutes. Two, you take top cover, and stand off a way. We’ll go in first. If we don’t see any fire, high recon, low recon, extract. If there’s fire, we’ll do a combat approach. Clear?”
Angel Two’s pilot simply responded with her aircraft call sign, “Two.”
The reporter spoke up. “Why do they call her ‘Fury’?”
Suarez keyed in from the back, “Play Monopoly with her. Or any competitive game, really. You’ll find out.”
Wilkes cut back in, “Ok. Ninety seconds. Sterile cockpit. Mick, call the grunts.” The co-pilot nodded once and keyed his mic while Wilkes slowed the aircraft and activated the low light systems.
“Anvil Station, Angel Flight.”
The radio responded immediately, with people shouting and weapons fire audible in the background, “Angel Flight, Anvil Six. Welcome to the party. Your DZ is on the top of hill three five; marking with infrared strobes.”
In the distance, a hilltop began to pulse. The hill the Marines had set up on was level with several other hills of nearly the same height, and had a flat top that contained the firebase. Wilkes banked the aircraft and slowed. The weapons fire was visible on all sides of the encircled Marines—the dark red of the Elai weapons, and the green and blue flickers of the Marines returning fire. The radio spoke again, this time with even louder weapons fire in it.
“Angel Flight, be advised, it’s pretty hot down here right now. There are concentrated Elai assaults ongoing on the west face of the hill, and the south. Recommend approach from the east, exit the same. You can expect ground fire. We’ll suppress as we can. No heavy weapons seen; just light directed energy weapons and occasional slug throwers. Ah, shit. Standby one.” There was a scrabbling, then the sound of the receiver being dropped. In the background, there was more shouting, then a loud thump, and a faint stream of profanity directing return fire.
Ahead of them, a large bloom of flame could be seen, glowing bright in their night screens, then fading quickly. After a few seconds, the radio crackled back on.
“Angel Flight, sorry about that. They’re using some sort of incendiary weapon we haven’t seen before. It’s short range, probably their equivalent of a rifle grenade. It shouldn’t be a problem for you, but it’s a goddamn pain in the ass down here. We have six wounded, two critical, four walking. How many can you put in each bird?”
Mick responded, “Anvil, we can take two critical, four walking per bird, but we’ll split the critical ones up. We’ll get the most serious first; Angel Two will be down to get the second group right after. Get ‘em ready to load, we won’t have a lot of time down there.”
Outside the aircraft, the ugly red lines of the Elai energy weapons began to reach into the sky, trying to hit the incoming aircraft.
Wilkes scanned his instruments one more time, then nodded at his co-pilot and began his approach. The onboard computer spoke into his ear in its vaguely feminine, mechanical voice.
“ALTITUDE. ONE HUNDRED FEET. ALTITUDE.”
Mick keyed the mic. “Ok, guys. We’re on short final. We’re seeing incoming, so stay buttoned up until we’re dirtsi…” Mick’s voice cut off as there was a series of flashes outside the cockpit window. There was a sound like hail from underneath them, the vibration slightly shaking the aircraft with each impact.
“Wow. Ok, that was close. Still looks like small arms, nothing the belly armor can’t stop…” There was another series of impacts, these louder, sounding like someone was hammering on the outside of the aircraft.
The pilots exchanged a look. Wilkes then scanned outside the aircraft, seeing more and more bright red lines reaching for them.
“ALTITUDE. FIFTY FEET. ALTITUDE.” The aircraft slowed and flared. The red streaks outside continued, coming very close to the aircraft. Suddenly there was a loud series of bangs from the pilot’s side, and the aircraft shuddered. The front windscreen starred, and the wind outside took on a high-pitched note. Several indicator lights changed from green to yellow at the same time, and an insistent alarm began to sound.
Over the crew intercom, Wilkes heard from the back, “Shit, shit! Ouch!” A series of thumps came over the mic, then silence.
Mick spoke in a rapid, even voice, “Abort, abort, abort.” Wilkes increased power and jammed the stick forward. The Skyhawk screamed skyward, the ground rapidly dropping away. Mick was on the radio beside him.
“Angel Two, Angel Lead. Be advised, we are receiving ground fire and have taken damage. Recommend hold until we assess damage.”
Again the calm voice of Angel Two’s pilot came over the radio, “Lead, Two. Acknowledge.”
Wilkes leveled the aircraft and scanned the instruments. Avio
nics ok. Controls ok. Fuel ok. Power ok. The bird seemed stable and in no danger for now. He reset the alarm, took a deep breath, and keyed the crew mic. “Check in, people. You ok?”
Sergeant Agawa responded immediately, “I’m good, but Suarez is hit. Checking her now. Hold it level, coming outta belts.”
Suarez came on, her voice sounding pained, “I’m fine, Brian. It was spent and hit me in the chest plate. I’m sore, but my armor’s intact, and my diagnostics aren’t telling me I’m hurt. I see the round. Looks like some sorta small rocket. Let me get rid of it.” There was a pause, then she came back on. “Gone. Dropped it out. Light weapons, my ass. I may be just a nurse, but those punched right through the belly armor. We’re lucky that one was a dud.” Wilkes and Mick traded a glance.
Wilkes spoke thoughtfully. “I didn’t know those could get through the armor. That ain’t good. Gonna be tough getting those grunts out.”
Mick considered this for a moment, then replied, “Sure as shit is. Heavy weapons in the dark, unknown number of enemies, unsecure LZ, busted bird. I’m not loving it.” Another pause. Below, the firefight continued to rage in its silent light show of red, blue, and green. “But if we don’t get ‘em out…” Mick’s voice trailed off.
Wilkes grimaced. “Yeah.”
The radio crackled, and then the cool voice of Major Moreno came through, “Angel Lead, Angel Two.”
“Two, Lead. Go.”
“Lead, recommend redesignate Valkyrie Flight and initiate WICKED SKIES protocol.”
Wilkes and Mick traded a glance, then Wilkes nodded. “Two, Lead, good call. Let me kick it upstairs.” He switched to the command net. “Valhalla Station, Angel Flight.”
The tactical control station responded immediately, “Angel Flight, Valhalla Station. Go.”
“Valhalla Station, request redesignate Valkyrie flight, and request authorization to initiate WICKED SKIES protocol.” There was a slight pause, then the controller came back on the air.
“Angel Flight, Valhalla Station. Permission granted. Redesignated Valkyrie Flight, WICKED SKIES protocol in effect. Good hunting, Valkyries. Valhalla Station out.”
In the jump seat, the reporter sat, transfixed. “What are we doing?”
Mick grinned in the dark of the cockpit. “You’ll see.” He tapped the crew mic and spoke to the crew in the back, “You heard the man. Spin ‘em up.” The crew in back acknowledged dispassionately.
Wilkes tapped a few controls, and a section of his panels changed. He tapped a few more as Mick manipulated a few on his side, then changed a setting on his helmet. Underneath the aircraft there were two thumps, and then the feel of the aircraft surging slightly into the air. There was another mechanical whine under the nose of the aircraft, then a reticle appeared on the screens in front of them. Mick turned his head and the reticle followed. He turned it back, and the reticle moved with him.
The reporter watched, fascinated, then murmured, “I see. This ‘medevac’ bird is armed, but you won’t use them unless you change from your noncombat to combat roles, hence the redesignation. Let me guess. The red crosses are gone from the side too?” Mick just pointed at the screen.
On the screen, Valkyrie Two was visible in the night filters. The red crosses on her hull were now concealed, and the snout of a rotary cannon was visible under the chin. As they watched, the fuselage doors slid open, and the crew, visible in their combat armor, were seen folding out mounted rotary cannon. Another turret was under the tail, suspended from the boom over the rear loading ramp. As they watched, two shapes fell out from the bottom of the hull, then stabilized and moved into formation next to Valkyrie Two.
The reporter spoke up, “What are those?”
Wilkes answered, “Those are Mark 17 Tactical Support and Deception Systems. There’s some fancy technical name for ‘em, but we call em ‘Spuds’.”
“What do they do?”
“They each carry two medium range 40 gigahertz air to ground rotary lascannons, two semi-intelligent cluster munition packages, and an active deception system that makes them look like a fully active Viper Attack Lifter. See? There they go.” The cigar-shaped objects seemed to melt on screen and reform into the menacing, dark silhouettes of the Viper Attack Lifters, which then fell into formation behind the ‘Hawk.
He continued, “They can be autonomous or controlled. Autonomously, they’re pretty stupid. Pre-programmed stuff; patrols, base defense, that sort of stuff. When we control ‘em, it’s like having two additional aircraft for the bad guys to shoot at.” Two more of the menacing shapes had slid into formation behind Valkyrie Two.
Mick said, “There’s ours; and… Control passed. Ham’s got ‘em.”
The reporter frowned for a minute, thinking, then asked, “Ah. Their crew chief?”
“Yep. No offense. Anyway, we got another job for you.”
The reporter shrugged. “In for a penny, in for a pound. What do you need?”
Wilkes responded, “See the panel to your left? Says ‘Secondary armaments”? Hit the top switch.” Joe did, and the screen lit up, showing a view of the ground and the firefight going on. He watched for a moment, then it dawned on him.
“Ah. The tail turret.”
“Yep. We have friendlies down there, so the AI can’t really be trusted. You were a Marine, right? Can you still shoot?”
Joe grinned. “Every Marine a rifleman, and in this case, you’re in luck. I trained on Orbital Assault Vehicle guns. Got sick as hell every drop, but I can still put a shitload of hurt on whoever’s in front of me.”
Wilkes and Mick traded a grin. The crew mic crackled, and Suarez’ voice came through from her seat in the back. “That’s the most Marine thing you’ve said all day, big guy. Anyway, when we take the casualties on, Sergeant Agawa and I are going to be busy. You’ll get all three guns on remote. You’ll see when they go live on your console.”
Joe grasped the controls, maneuvering them a little, getting used to the motion, then nodded. “Ok. I’m good. I haven’t been out that long, and the whole point is to make ‘em keep their heads down.”
Wilkes responded, “Affirm. Ok, let’s do this. Those Marines down there don’t have a lot of time.” He keyed his radio. “Valkyrie Two, Valkyrie Lead. You’ve got lead on this one, since we’re beat up. Suppression runs, then do a low cover orbit while we extract.”
Fury’s voice from Two responded. “Lead, Wilco. While you were lifting, we ran thermals on the ground and ran a pattern match. Looks like it’s a shoulder-fired, semi-autonomous tracking system with some sort of proximity warheads. We got a ping on the signature, and when we scanned, we found more. Linking now.”
Wilkes acknowledged, then switched to the ground frequency. “Anvil Six, this is Angel Flight, now redesignated Valkyrie Flight. Mark your perimeter with IR strobes and get your heads down. We have support on the way.”
Anvil Six responded immediately, “Ah, copy that, Valkyrie Flight. Popping strobes now; all friendlies are within 100 meters of the hilltop. You’re clear to engage anything outside that range.”
The screens displaying the hill with the firefight in the center began to light up with symbols. The smaller hill on which the Marines were dug in was ringed by higher hills, and four of the peaks had symbols for the launchers tagged by Valkyrie Two on them. Closer to the firebase on the slopes approaching it were two more, likely with the enemy assault teams. Wilkes frowned. That was a lot of anti-air for an infantry assault. Below, the smaller IR strobes began to pulse, marking the perimeter. The radio crackled again.
“Lead, standby. We’re making our run,” On the screen, Two banked steeply and accelerated, dropping rapidly towards the hilltops. The four dark shapes followed in perfect formation. Wilkes moved his ‘Hawk into an easy orbit so they could observe the first run.
Below them, Valkyrie Two was doing a wide circle right over the top of the valley walls ringing the defended hilltop. Each time the dark shape of the ‘Hawk passed over, the smoky red streams of tracers rained onto th
e hilltops. Right behind the ‘Hawk came the drones, which also raked the area with fire. There was a series of bright sparkles from the hilltops they passed, muted by their night vision system’s software. In a matter of sixty seconds, the ‘Hawk had covered all the hills surrounding the Marine emplacement. The symbols marking the anti-air teams had vanished, leaving only two with the assaulting forces. Below, the ‘Hawk banked back and screamed low over the Marines’ fortification, flanked by drones on either side and two in trail.
From the ‘Hawk, the tracers poured out towards the ground, causing another series of flashes and sparking off the rocks below. From each of the drones, two solid beams shot out, methodically seeking out and chewing up the targets below. Valkyrie Two made several rapid figure-eights over the battlefield, methodically covering all points of the compass. The fire aiming at the Marines had decreased substantially as the Elai infantry took cover from the lascannons.
Wilkes pushed the controls forward, and the big aircraft dove steeply in towards the LZ as Mick used the radio. “Two, Lead. Making approach. Provide perimeter cover.”
Moreno responded in her ice calm voice, “Two, wilco. Watch the west. They’re still down there.”
Mick clicked the mic twice in acknowledgement, the switched to call the ground. “Anvil Six, Valkyrie Lead.”
The Marine on the radio replied jubilantly, “Valkyrie Lead, Anvil Six. Holy shit, you guys are packing a hell of a lotta heat for a medevac! What a light show!”
Wilkes grinned and responded, “Anvil Six, we have a few tricks up our sleeves. Get ‘em ready to load; sixty seconds out.” The big aircraft settled quickly and smoothly. Joe watched the screens, but there was no incoming fire. Then he saw the instruments indicate that the door gun control had passed to him, and the small screen showed the rear bay doors opening.
He keyed his mic. “They’re loading now.”
In the rear, the big doors slid open, and Suarez and Agawa met the small team of Marines waiting for them, ducking under the down blast of the engines. The litter slid in and was quickly locked into place. Two Marines with parts of their armor removed climbed in quickly after them, and took up seats by the doors, weapons pointed out. Sergeant Agawa kicked a crate by the door, causing it to fall out onto the ground. He leaned out and gave a thumbs up to the combat-armored Marine standing in the door, who responded with a return thumb.
