Valkyrie

by Lucas Marcum

  The second Elai fighter was whipping around and lining up its guns on the Valkyrie, which had lifted out of the hole in the canopy and was tearing away to the north. As they watched, two long, cylindrical-shaped drones fell off the fleeing aircraft, which turned and hurled themselves at the fighter, red lines of lascannon fire flickering.

  Major Papadatos scowled. “I’m sick of this fucker. We’re in range. Reaper Three, grease his ass.”

  Reaper Three’s pilot, Lieutenant McCune, replied, “Specter Lead, wilco.” The young officer rammed the throttle forward, rapidly accelerating his fighter above the speed of sound. “Good tone…fox three.’

  The missile left the aircraft, rapidly went hypersonic, and impacted the Elai fighter in a second and a half. The craft detonated in the air, the shock wave from the explosion rippling the trees below it as the flaming wreckage fell from the sky and vanished in the jungle.

  Lieutenant McCune whipped his fighter back around, throttled down below the speed of sound, and said, “Splash one. Night night, fucker.”

  He pulled up next to the Valkyrie and waggled his wings. The pilot of the Valkyrie tossed a salute and waggled the wings of the big aircraft in return.

  Major Papadatos keyed his mic. “Spookshow, Reaper Flight. Splash two. Going hypersonic to clear the path for Voodoo Flight.” Switching to the flight frequency, he spoke again, “Three, Five, you two go in at angels three, draw ‘em out. Myself, Two, and Four will be at angels five; max stealth. Let’s bushwhack these little bastards and see how THEY like surprises.”

  The flight acknowledged his orders, adjusted their altitude, and accelerated to arrive over Paradise Station before Voodoo Flight.

  ****

  Quick Response Force Staging Area, near Hill 185 ‘The Knob’, 1422 hours.

  Tony crouched in his trench again and rapidly reloaded his M45 magazines. Elise’s crazy stunt had brought them tens of thousands more rounds of ammunition, and bought them a lot of time. He shook his head. He’d always suspected she was a little crazy, but sneaking in below the canopy, then using the rockets to boost out…that was next level crazy. He shook his head. They’d seen the fighters tearing ass after her. He hoped she’d made it out. Knowing Elise, she’d had a plan for it.

  The crack-BOOM of the Elai tank’s main cannon echoed over the base again. He looked at the wall. He’d placed teams on the inside of it with energy grenades. If the tanks broke through, the goal was to immobilize them and figure it out from there. He twisted around and peered over the trench towards the massive crater now serving as their aid station. He’d taken all but the most seriously wounded Marines and placed them on guard around the perimeter, as he couldn’t spare anyone to guard it. He looked back at the wall. Another crack-BOOM rattled over the compound, and the wall shook. He motioned to the far end of the trench, where Brian crouched. He turned and nodded, and said something to the Marine next to him. The Marine nodded and went back to pointing his rifle at the wall.

  On the wall, one of the Mark 30 towers exploded and collapsed, taking down part of the wall with it. Beyond the wall, on the slope, Tony could see the low hulls of the tanks, with the darting and ducking shapes of the infantry rushing up, supporting it. He started to swear and reached for the radio.

  “Ironjaw, Straitjacket Response. Armor in sight. One hundred meters from the wall. Gonna get pretty busy here in a minute, Six.”

  Colonel Piasecki’s calm voice came through the radio, “You just keep ‘em outside the walls, son. Do what you have to. We got air inbound, so keep your eyes out. Ironjaw Six out.”

  There was a sound like a buzz saw, and a flash overhead, then another. Elai soldiers supporting the tanks threw their arms up and collapsed, and sparks could be seen flickering off the tank’s hull. The armored behemoth didn’t even slow down in its methodical advance.

  From the jungle, two of the broad-winged Elai suborbital fighters rose and tore after the Specters, streaks of fire leaping from their wings. Tony watched in awe as the nimble human fighters suddenly pulled up, spitting flares and decoy drones, and rocketed skyward, the Elai fighters in close pursuit. As the Elai fighters got higher, Tony once again heard a familiar, eerie wail, the undulating sound of the approaching Banshees.

  He stood up, waved at the other trenches, and yelled, “Banshees inbound! Get your heads down! We got air support inbound!” He then ducked down in the trench, clamped his helmet to his head, and waited.

  ****

  Reaper Flight, The Furball, Three Thousand Feet over Paradise Station, 1423h.

  Lieutenant McCune groaned under six gravities of weight as his Specter screamed skyward. A fast glance at his sensors showed him that the Elai fighters were damn near in weapons range. Grunting to himself against the strain, he said, “Come on goddamn it…anytime, fellas…”

  There were flashes from above them, and bright streaks shot past his Specter, coming within a hundred feet of the aircraft, and passing him and his wingman, Lieutenant Barclay in Reaper Five. The first Elai fighter took a direct hit and disintegrated in the air. The second enemy fighter squeezed off two missiles right before it, too, suffered the same fate. The enemy missiles rapidly closed the distance and detonated behind Reaper Five. The near miss shredded the rear control surfaces. The sleek fighter wobbled, then spun out of control, spinning towards the jungle.

  Lieutenant McCune leveled out his Specter and shouted into his mic, “Goddammit, Scythe! Eject…EJECT!!!” At what seemed like in instant before the aircraft hit the jungle, the cockpit ejector rockets fired, blasting the cockpit free from the doomed fighter. The pod popped its parachutes and fired retrorockets as the remnants of the fighter barreled into the jungle and detonated in a massive fireball. The pod drifted gently out of sight into the jungle foliage below.

  McCune breathed a sigh of relief, which turned to alarm as his air-to-air missile threat warning receiver lit off. Pulling back on the stick and ramming the throttle forward, he hammered the decoy switch. As he did, he thought to himself, This day is rapidly going to shit.

  ****

  Voodoo Flight, Five hundred Feet over Paradise Station, 1425 hours.

  Lieutenant Lloyd ‘Warlock’ Junge eyed his instruments as he and the other surviving Banshee from Voodoo Flight flew towards Paradise Station. They were moving fast, five hundred kilometers an hour, right at treetop level.

  The timer on his console chimed and he said, “Now, Tink!”

  The two pilots pulled back hard on the sticks, and their aircraft popped up to a hundred meters, giving them a clear view of the installation. The sensors began alerting, and a message popped into his heads-up display.

  “ARMOR DETECTED, ELAI DRAGON-CLASS MAIN BATTLE TANK. RETARGET? Y/N.”

  With a vicious grin, he selected yes and said, “Five, hit ‘em. We’ll get the infantry on the second pass.” The indicator popped up on his display, blinking. ‘SHOOT/SHOOT/SHOOT’. He squeezed the trigger and felt the familiar surge as the anti-armor missiles left the Banshee. Pushing the nose back down, he was past and over the clearing before the missiles struck, with Tinkerbell in Reaper Five close behind him.

  Glancing in his rearview camera, he could see a blue-green ball of fire rising momentarily above the tree line and knew they’d gotten at least one of the Elai tanks. Rapidly switching his attention to the air-to-air threat sensors, he determined that there were no fighters at their level, and he whipped the big aircraft around for another pass. Lining up, he looked to his right to made sure Voodoo Five was in position, and again accelerated for Paradise Station.

  ****

  Quick Response Force Staging Area, near Hill 185 ‘The Knob’, 1427 hours.

  Tony gritted his teeth as the twin thunderous explosions rattled the compound. Above where he crouched in the trench, he could see the blue-green fireball rising skyward as the Elai tanks detonated.

  After a second, he stood up and looked towards the breach in the wall. The wall towers were in shambles. The wall-mounted Mark 30 crews were gone; withdrawn,
dead, or dying, Tony didn’t know. The truck he’d had his improvised force pull in front of the breach had been blasted out of the way, and he could see down the slope beyond it. There was still one Elai tank slowly advancing on the shattered defenses, but there were very few Elai infantry visible.

  He turned and shouted hoarsely, “Up! Up! Get on the line!” The Marines slowly struggled to their feet and flopped into position, rifles bearing on the breach in the wall.

  The tank continued its inexorable advance, spitting lascannon fire. The return fire from the defenders flicked off the armored hull harmlessly. Its main cannon crashed, striking the wall, methodically reducing it to a pile of rubble. Tony checked his hip pouch. Two energy grenades left; it’d have to do.

  Sighting at a dashing Elai figure, he squeezed off several rounds and hoped the Banshees were on the way back.

  ****

  Reaper Flight, The Furball, Three Thousand Feet over Paradise Station, 1435 hours.

  Lieutenant McCune whipped his Specter into a tight turn and lined up a Manta fighter in his gunsights, only to see it explode before he could fire.

  In his headset, he could hear the voice of his flight leader, Mike ‘Boomtown’ Papadatos. “Scratch one. Gotta be faster, Lawndart.” There was a pause, then the flight leader spoke again, “Reaper Two, on your six!”

  The pilot of Reaper Two didn’t answer, instead throwing his fighter into high speed turns and wild altitude changes to try to shake the enemy fighter.

  McCune cranked the stick hard left and said, “Gravedigger, break right!” Reaper Two broke right, and the Elai fighter followed, right into his sights. He squeezed the trigger, and the missile flew into the Elai fighter’s path, detonating and shredding the cockpit. The Elai fighter flew straight for another second, then plummeted towards the jungle below.

  Captain Warren brought his Specter level and keyed the mic. “Thanks, Three, I thought…”

  Reaper Two detonated in midair as an air-to-air missile impacted on its fuselage.

  Major Papadatos’ voice came over the mic as Lieutenant McCune whipped his Specter into a violent evasive maneuver, “Reaper Flight, break, break, break! Can anyone see them?” The Specters scattered, accelerating rapidly, as the pilots searched the sky for additional Elai fighters.

  The calm voice of the combat air controller came from above and behind them, “Reaper Flight, we have six bogies at one two one, speed one two zero zero. They volleyed long range missiles at you. Vector for intercept, ensure ident transponders are on.”

  McCune checked that his identification transponder was on and turned to face the incoming wave of fighters with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Reaper Flight was outnumbered and low on missiles.

  Straining his eyes, he saw the Elai fighters before his optical sensors did. Keying the mic, he sang out, “Tallyho! Bandits, one two zero, high!” The Elai fighters were moving fast and high, and had fired off of radar before they were in visual range.

  Major Papadatos’ calm voice came through his headset, “Reaper Flight, accelerate to contact. I don’t think they have visual yet.”

  Lieutenant McCune took a deep breath and watched the targeting data for his single remaining missile, counting down. The alert tone chimed, and he put his finger on the trigger, prepared to squeeze, when the Elai aircraft blew up, followed seconds later by its wingman. A third wobbled as a near miss shredded its control surfaces, before plunging towards the jungle, out of control. The remaining fighters abruptly turned and accelerated in the opposite direction at maximum speed.

  An Indian-accented voice came through his headset, “Spooktown, Bhuta Flight. Splash three. Our thanks to Reaper Flight for the assist.”

  Spooktown’s controller responded in a dispassionate voice, “Roger, Bhuta Flight. Accelerate to four zero and engage remaining bogies when in range.”

  McCune could hear the Bhuta Flight leader acknowledging, then the calm voice of Spooktown came again, “Reaper Flight, maintain position over Paradise Station. Bhuta Flight will provide high cover and engage remaining bogies.”

  Keying his mic, the young officer asked, “Who the hell is Bhuta Flight?”

  Major Papadatos’ voice responded, “Navy. They’re a long-range interceptor squadron in Apparition fighters. They’re fast. Mach 6 without breaking a sweat, with the AI-guided Hellscream long-range missiles. Those missiles will break Mach 10 or so in the atmosphere.”

  Lieutenant Brown in Reaper Four broke in, “Mach 10? Fuck me! Let’s get us some of those.”

  In his fighter, McCune grinned at Brown’s enthusiasm, then suddenly, above them in the deep blue of the sky, there were several tiny flashes, then a large one. Several seconds later, there were two more intensely bright flashes, then a final one so large it flickered like lightning, even though the clear blue of the sky.

  McCune scanned his instruments to make sure there anywhere no more incoming threats. The radio crackled as Scythe in Reaper Five said, “What the hell was that?”

  Major Papadatos replied grimly, “That, gentlemen, is an orbital engagement as seen in the daylight. It means our dear Captain Beck is up there kicking ass. There’s absolutely nothing we can do about it, except hope she’s as dangerous as we all think she is.” He paused, then continued, “Reapers, come left to zero six three and form on me. Let’s get back to Paradise.”

  ****

  Quick Response Force Staging Area, near Hill 185 ‘The Knob’, 1440 hours.

  Tony heard the crack-WHUMP of the Elai tank’s main cannon, and the wall began to disintegrate in front of his eyes, forcing him to turn his face away as tiny rocks pelted his position. As the wall collapsed, a large cloud of dust rose from the wreckage, obscuring his vision and cutting visibility to about three meters, about a third of the way to where the wall had previously stood. Through the dust, he could see charging figures firing as they ran, the red fire spitting from their rifles marking them as Elai infantry.

  Tony aimed his rifle and yelled as loud as he could, “MARINES! LET ‘EM HAVE IT!!”

  Blue flashes and deep barking tore out of the trench lines, flashing and striking the charging enemy, cutting dozens of them down. Far off to Tony’s right, a Mark 30 opened up from his trench line, then another. The two guns spit green bolts, scything through the charging Elai. Apparently the crews had leapt from the wall and fallen back to his position in the trenches.

  Tony scowled and picked up the handset of his radio. “Ironjaw Six Actual, Straitjacket Response. The western wall has collapsed.” He paused, then keyed the radio again. “Ironjaw Six Actual, Straitjacket Response, come in.”

  From behind him he could hear a clear firm voice, “I can hear you fine, Major. You keep up that fire. Keep these fuckers from rushing that entryway.” Twisting around, Tony could see Colonel Piasecki standing behind him, his hands on his hips as he regarded the line. The lens of his eye flickered red and blue from the reflected small arms. He nodded at what he saw, then looked at Tony. “You’re doing a fine job, son. Keep up the fire.”

  Looking up at the officer from his trench, Tony protested, “Colonel, that tank out there…”

  The colonel started to turn to move down into the trench, but paused. “You let me worry about that tank, Major. You just keep up the fire.” The colonel turned and walked away, seemingly unperturbed by the firefight raging around him, stopping to reassure Marines as he went.

  Tony shook his head at the sight and turned his eyes back to the front. The addition of the Mark 30s had blunted the Elai infantry assault. The remaining members of the assault force had taken cover behind the pile of rubble that had been the wall and was trading fire with the Marines, obviously waiting for the tank. The tank! Tony’s eyes flicked up. The hulking mass was twenty-five meters from the wall, the lascannon still spitting. It would only be a matter of minutes until the barrel could depress enough to hit the trench line. Spying a team of Elai making a rush, he sighted on them and opened fire, fervently hoping that whatever the colonel had planned, he did it
soon.

  ****

  Voodoo Flight, one hundred feet over Paradise Station, 1442 hours.

  Lieutenant “Tink” Junge scanned his instruments one last time and glanced at the timer. He keyed his radio and said, “Voodoo Five, Voodoo Three. I’ll set for an antipersonnel package. You go for the armor if any is left. We clear the remaining armor, then we can come back and make gun runs. Let’s get ‘em, Warlock.”

  Lieutenant Behm in Voodoo Three acknowledged in a flat tone as his instrument panel chirped. He hauled back on the stick, popping the big aircraft up into the air again, and looking down at the battered base. The sensors went off, again alerting him to armor, but he stuck to the plan, selecting and arming another package of the flechettes. As the pip crossed the screen, he blew out a breath, then squeezed the trigger, feeling the lurch as the canisters fell off. He immediately pushed the nose down to duck for the treetops again, and was startled by the orange flash of one of the Elai unguided rockets screaming right above him, passing through where his aircraft would have been.

  Tink fired his air to ground missile behind him. Half a second after it left the rail, there came several orange flashes of the unguided rockets. One of the Elai got lucky. The warhead detonated right near the elevator on the tail of the fighter and shattered it, also destroying the vertical stabilizer. The big aircraft bucked, dipped, then suddenly dove into the ground and exploded.

  Moving away from Paradise Station at full throttle, Lieutenant Junge saw the indicator for Voodoo Five wink out on his display. His mouth tightened momentarily, then he blew out a breath and keyed his radio.

  “Spooktown, Voodoo Flight is Winchester. Requesting vector to Smokehouse for fuel, then vector for return to base, “