Chapter 14
Amazon Command, Bella Rosh, New Texas

Emily Calisto smiled as she performed her walk around of Marybelle. Finally, they were going to finish off what they had started with the White Sands base. “I still cannot believe those fools in the artillery failed to destroy that base. I mean twenty-eight, J-seven heavy cruise missiles should have put that place out of commission. At least destroyed the airstrips.”

Her mumbling was ignored by her flight crew. They were used to her talking to herself before a flight. Today was nothing new. Then today’s flight was to be the final nail in the coffin for the WSRD. The plan was simple and easy to execute. All the needed resources where here in Bella Rosh. The 29th and 32nd Heavy bomber squadrons. The 29th with their fourteen B-1 Vulcans and the newly arrived 32nd with all eight of their B-36 Peacemakers would come in from the south east. Each bomber would carry their maximum loadout of freefall conventional bombs. For the Vulcans that would be the 20-ton Earthquake bombs, while the Peacemakers would each carry four of the 20-ton Blue Steel Warhammer free fall bombs.

A total of forty-six 20-ton bombs would soon be leveling the White Sands base. The excitement of the impending attack had grabbed every member of the airbase. None more so than Emily Calisto. When she was first approached to layout the Air War for the New Texas campaign she had seen it as her way to finally prove herself. When the war started every part of air campaign had gone exactly as she had planned. With the exception of two points. The destruction of the 101st Death Dealer Division Headquarters and White Sands Research Development Center. The attack on the WSRDC was left to a battalion of artillery and not the heavy bombers that she had originally planned. Of the three batteries one had been destroyed while escaping.

Emily finished her walk around, then stared down and across the flight line. The eight massive Peacemakers were just now finishing with the loading their bombs. She watched as the eight five-man crews perform their own preflight inspections. The Vulcan crews were already in the middle of their inspections. She knew that once the mission was on the way her duty was to protect these twenty-two slow moving targets. None of them could outrun the fighters that would be protecting the WSRDC base. They would be the chum for her pray. First though they needed to deliver their payloads on target. After that Emily didn’t care if they returned to base. She wanted the chance to face off against the pilot of that amazing twin tailed devil.

It was with a predatory smile that Emily climbed the ladder to her cockpit. As she was strapping in her Crew Chief climbed up to give her a hand with her helmet. “You have a full load of air-to-air missiles ma’am. Your autocannon has been loaded as you requested. One-four loadout. The order is armor piercing, high explosive, buckshot, and Willy-Pet. Remember go light on the trigger. Missiles are on the number two throttle trigger. The one-oh-five is on the number one throttle trigger. Your PPCs are on the thumb trigger of the stick and your PPLs on the Index trigger. Remember ma’am, out there somewhere is that all silver twin tailed devil. The last report on the pilot for that beast has been confirmed. You go up against that fighter you’re facing a fracking Claymore slag. We’re still working on the pilot’s name and whatever else we can gather on them, ma’am.”

“Damn. I had hoped to face a worthy foe. Not some gene scum gutter trash Claymore. Why do those fools, over in the Empire, allow such defects to live is beyond me. Oh, well just another reason for me to blow that pilot from the sky.” Emily settled her helmet and gave the thumbs up to her Ground Crew Chief. She flipped the switch that lowered the canopy and sealed her into the fighter’s cockpit.

The Chief pulled the ladder away and cleared the area of her intakes. She smiled and waved as the Ground Crew cleared the area of her Marybelle. “Now, all I need is a little bit of luck and for that Claymore to show up for a fight.”

Emily slowly taxied out into position behind the last of the bombers to wait for her time to takeoff. Over the next fifteen minutes she waited patiently until the last bomber left the runway. When her time came Emily lead her fighter group down the runway in a steady procession of pairs. With twenty-two slow moving bombers Emily had decided to bring her whole squadron of fighters. With only sixteen fighters she knew they would be hard pressed to protect them all. Not that Emily cared either way. All she wanted was to fight the Claymore.

The skies over White Sands R-n-D Center

Pulling hard on the stick I bank hard over on to course two-three-zero and push the throttles to the stops. I key the mike and broadcast what I found.

“Whiskey Sahara Delta, the attack to the North is a diversion. I repeat the Northern attack is a diversion. The real attack is coming out of the South East. Course two-three-zero. Over.”

“Negative, Scorpion. The attack at zero-one-zero is the real thing. Now return to former heading at once. Over”

I don’t know the voice manning the ATC. Whoever they are must be new. That or they’re a spy. But I know for a fact that Sylvester and his men cleaned out the spies that infested the base.

“Negative, Whiskey Sahara. The real attack is coming out of the South East. Pull the other Strike Eagles back. Over”

“I repeat Scorpion. You are to return to your old heading now. There is nothing to the South East. Our scans show nothing. Now return to your original heading. Over”

“Oh frack it! Stupid ignorant REMF bastard!” I know that I’m screaming at thin air, but it felt good. “Lilly, get me Scooby on the radio.”

“I’m on it, Terresa.” The snarl in her voice let me know that she was just as pissed as I was. “Scooby on channel three.”

“Scooby, Shaggy, breakoff and turn to heading two-three-zero. Over” I call out.

“Scorpion, what are you talking about? Over”

“Scooby, the real attack is coming from the South East. You and the others are heading towards a diversionary attack. Over” I’m still scanning for the force that is in front of me. I know it is out there, I just don’t know the size.

“Damn! Hold on Scorpion. We’re on our way. Do you have an idea of the size? Over”

“Negative Scooby. Still trying to lock down their exact location. They’re running a heavy jammer program. Over” I can hear the twin screams of the Strike Eagles engines in the background of Scooby’s transmission. The Captain must have pulled hard enough on the stick to stress the air frame.

“Do what you can Scorpion. We’ll be there fast as possible. Out”

I sigh as at least Captain Heartlow was on his way to cover my ass. I bring up my radar scans and double sweep the area in front of me. When I get a massive second double return I know I’m on the right course. With the third sweep of my radar scans I finally burn through the jammers. It takes the fourth sweep to get a set of solid returns though. I start counting the number of targets.

“Lilly please tell me that we are not facing thirty-eight hostile aircraft.” I beg of Lilly. “And before you say that I’m not wrong with my count. That was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh please, Terresa. I knew that the moment you asked it. As for the count you’re on the money. I got a breakdown of what we’re facing. Fourteen B-1 Vulcan heavy bombers, eight B-36 Peacemakers super-heavy bombers, with sixteen KV-81 Sturmgewehr heavy fighters acting as escorts.”

At the mention of the KV-81s I have to ask. “Is SHE with them?”

“Odds are good Terresa.”

For the first time during this flight I let the smile come to my lips. I let my hands glide across the arming switches for my weapons. I know that I am about to go head-to-head with the deadliest pilot the Amazons have. One way or another today this the end of her deadly reign in the skies. That or she kills me.

“Terresa, I hate to say this, but those bombers need to be our primary targets.”

“What the hell are you talking about Lilly? The Black Witch is here. We can finally get our payback damn it.” I snapped.

“Terresa, please, I want revenge as much as you do but my scans of those bombers have me worried. They’re moving too slow for their listed flight performances.”

“What do you mean they’re moving too slow?” I knew that Lilly had to have a reason for her worry. Whatever that worry is had to be big. “Why would they be moving below their listed performance specs?”

“If I had to guess Terresa, it has to be because of their bomb load. If I were to guess I would have to say that those bombers are carrying twenty-ton bombs.”

“Ah shit! That’s far too many blockbusters for my tastes. Okay. You’re right. We go after the bombers first.” I apply some left rudder and swing wide to come in on the portside of the bomber formations. I also pull back on the stick and climb for as much altitude as I can before attacking the first formation. “Let’s just hope like hell that Heartlow and the others get here in time.”

“Why?”

“Because if they don’t Lilly the base is fracked.”

Lead Vulcan Bomber, fifty miles southeast of White Sands

Flight Commander Alexis Ford smiled over at his co-pilot. “We’re right on time, Tess. Ten more minutes to bombing run IP. How’s out package doing?”

“Sitting nice and tight, Skipper.” Tessa Marks returned his smile. “Joey just informed me that the rest of the squadron are running in perfect harmony. We should be over the target in less than fifteen minutes, sir.”

“What about the big boys, Tess? How far behind are they?” Alexis asked worried about the Peacemakers falling too far behind. If they got much further behind there would be two sperate attacks not just one. The KV-81s won’t stick around to provide cover for both squadrons. “I don’t want to leave them swinging in the wind if we get separated. Those KV-81s and their Flight Leader will abandon them at the first chance to mix it up with those Strike Eagles we’ve been hearing about.”

“Damn Skipper. That is about cold blooded as hell. I mean Flight Leader Calisto really won’t use us as bait, would she?”

Alexis sighed. “That he-bitch would do more than that Tess. She has no honor and is totally ruthless. The rumors of her firing on ejected pilots are true. That shemale cunt has gone so far as to fire on our own aerospace fighters that have gotten between her and her next kill. No, I don’t trust that person as far as I can throw this bomber.”

“Skipper, we got a single fighter coming in from our three o’clock high.” The bombardier called out from his station. “And sir it’s that new fighter of the Imperialists.”

“Ah shit! I just knew it was going too easy.” Alexis grabbed the yoke for the bomber taking control from Tess. “Alright people. Heads up, we got unwelcome company coming in fast and hot. Gunners maker your targets and don’t waste your ammunition on taking wild shots. Remember, our job is to put that Earthquake on target, not rake up fighter kills. Leave those to our escorts.”

White Sands Armored Power Suit Hangers.

James climbed the front of his personal APS with grim determination. Of all the APSs stationed at White Sands only his lance could help in this up coming aerial battle. As he slides into the cockpit for the massive 85-ton White Tiger he knew that he had to do something to protect the base. Placing his hand on the scanner to confirm his id James started the initiation sequence. James waited for the first identification question to come.

“Pilot name and id please.” The voice was cold and extremely machine like.

“Lieutenant Colonel James J. Nakatoma. First Prince of the Human Empire. Oldest son of Empress Maiha and Princess Alison.” James smiled as the power of the KW fusion reactor came online. Bring with it life to the White Tiger’s systems. A glint came to James’ eye as the second question came. As always it was the soft lilting voice of his mother Maiha that greeted him.

“Tell me my son, what is the War Hero’s warning?”

James just smiled as he thought back to that day so long ago. In the ancient and honored cemetery on Earth Prime. The day that his mother walked with him through the grave stones and hearing the voices of the old dead soldiers whispering in his ear. It was their quiet voices that brought him his greatest lesson in how to be a ruler of men and women. “Never turn your back on the reaper.”

“Full power granted. Welcome aboard James. I take it that the Wild Cards finally get a chance to step out and play.” Gone was the cold mechanical voice. In its place was the voice of someone long dead. My mother Maiha’s son James J. Owens Jr.

“I don’t know about playing Reaper. I do know that only our firepower has any chance of making a difference in this battle. We’ll be in full antiair aircraft mode. We have an unknown number of heavy bombers on an inbound course for the base. We have to buy Terresa Cole and the other pilots time to engage them.” James flipped the switch releasing the locks for the service gantry. Stepping out and away from the gantry James felt the vibrations of the other members of his lance joining him. Opening a channel to his lance mates. “Time to shuffle the deck Wild Cards and deal out a shit ton of pain.”

“King of Spades here Joker. About time you pulled your head out of your ass.” The voice of Steven Light Horse lifted James heart.

The feeling as Derick Pike voice came over the connection just reinforced his trust of his lance mates. “King of Diamonds here Joker. Can we finally put an end to these over indulged ass wipes? Over”

“Queen of Hearts here Joker. I never thought you would get your act together in time to have fun.” The soft voice of Heather Pike would also remind James of his first love, Cathy Pike.

The last voice was that of his long-time friend Joseph Silver Leaf. “King of Clubs here Joker. I think we can drop more than one of those bombers.”

“That is the plan guys. We got the only five antiair AP Suits on the base that can act in an ADA role. We have to bring down as many of those monsters as we can people. Unlock full radar ranging and targeting. We concentrate our firepower on one bomber at a time. Engage interlocking fire programs. How copy?”

It was Joseph who answered for his lance. “Let’s ring the bells of Hell, Wild Cards. Time to ring the bells of Hell.”

As one the five heavy Fire Support Armored Power Suits move out. As they crossed the sands of the surrounding desert the AP Suits took on an unearthly air with each step. Even the men and women manning the defensive battlements couldn’t tell if they were real or not. It was as if five ghosts from a long-forgotten past had risen up from their graves to avenge their very deaths.

It took them just under ten minutes to reach a position from which they could bring their firepower to bear on the lead bombers. James locked onto the nearest Vulcan and raise his primary weapons. As one the members of his lance locked onto the same bomber. The tone of a solid lock began to ring through the cockpit of the massive war machine. “Okay, Reaper, here we go.”

With steady even pressure James squeezed the trigger for the twin mounted over-under PPL and PPCs that were his primary weapons. As the beams of pulsating plasma reached out to burn through the first three layers of armor on the bomber. The two ropes of man-made lightning tore away the rest of the armor plating. This allowed the other members his lance to target the same area on the bomber. Four heavy autocannons, four gauss rifles, and eight PPLs slammed into the belly of the bomber totally destroying the bomb bay doors. With that destruction came the death of the Earthquake bomb held there. James and his lance turned their weapons on the next bomber in line. Their sudden and unexpected attack broke the formation of the lead element of bombers in a way that turned them all into defenseless targets.

James didn’t waste this opportunity presented by the bombers. He targeted and locked on faster than ever before in his training. Now, was when he lived up to his heritage. Now, was when he finally let the oldest of grandson James J. Owens step onto the stage that he had tried so hard to avoid. Now, was when he would finally lay claim to the title of Death's Own Grandson. Time slows down for James then comes to a standstill. A voice he has never heard before enters James’ awareness. A voice that until now only his mother, the Empress Maiha had heard.

‘Tell me my grandson, are you ready for the path that you have set your feet upon?’

‘Go to hell you old ghoul. This is between me and those pilots. Nothing more.’

‘Wrong my grandson. Don’t you feel it already? The rising of your Blood Lust? The need to destroy your enemies? This is what your mother warned you about.’

‘Trust me grandfather. I have yet to turn my back on you or your damn ferrymen. Speaking of which let them know that they have business. If they ask who is paying their way let them know that it is on my tab.’

‘I look forward to the time you no longer hesitate coming to me, my grandson.’

‘I’ll see you in Hell old man.’ With that time returned to normal for James as he and his lance fired on the next bomber. As one they fired and destroyed the bomber. They would repeat this attack time and again. It would not be the aerospace fighters that would win the opening round of the air battle for White Sands. No, it would be the five Fire Support Armored Power Suits of the Wild Cards.

Terresa Cole’s fighter.

I know that they see me. They have to see me, because if they don’t then they’re dead meat. “What the HELL?”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The lead bomber exploded as if made of paper Mache and gunpowder. I don’t understand what’s going on and don’t care. I shift my sights to the next formation of bombers. I target the lead bomber and wait for the tone that lets me know I have a hard lock for my missiles. With just 10 Mavericks and 14 Sidewinder Rattlesnakes I need to make them count. I target the engines for the Vulcans. They’re the weak points. I pull the trigger on the Sidewinders. I felt the missile drop away from its launch rail. The rocket motor kicked in drove it towards its final death spiral. I needed to insure a clean kill so fired off a second Sidewinder Rattlesnake at the same bomber.

I shifted my sights to the next bomber. I wait for the tone of hard lock and fire two more missiles. I know that I am wasting missiles, but I need to insure these bad boys go down and fast. I may have started off with fourteen Sidewinder Rattlesnakes, but they are fast running out. Out of those fourteen I’m down to ten already as I target and fire the next two. Even as the first two missiles slam into the lead Vulcan bomber. I don’t bother to watch as it rolled over and started its own death spiral. I have other fish to fry and keep targeting the other bombers in this flight. As the last of my Sidewinder Rattlesnakes race away from me, the fourth Vulcan is hit. Just as with the first three this bomber falls from the skies.

At eight miles out from their formation I have just ended the lives of seven heavy bombers. Even as I turn my attention towards the first formation I start counting the number of bombers still flying. I am more than surprised to find that only three of them are still flying. The triple-A fire was coordinated in a manner that was deadly beyond imagination.

“Lilly who is coordinating that triple-A fire?”

“You’re not going to believe this Terresa. That is the Fire Support lance of Prince James, the Wild Cards. I must say they are deadly. I wonder how they would fair against ground-based targets?”

“Lilly, I have a feeling that lance of AP Suits would tear apart any enemy they face. Long before they get a chance to fire back. Now, let’s take care of the next squadron of bombers before they get any closer.” I pull hard on the stick and swing around again. This time I am on a solid course for the Peacemakers. Something seemed off to me. It didn’t feel right for some reason. I was missing something. Then it hit me. The escorts were missing.

“Lilly, where the hell are the escorts?!”

Lily took a few minutes before answering me and it wasn’t the answer I wanted. “BREAK LEFT AND CLIMB TERRESA!”

I don’t even think twice and do as she told me. Seconds later three air-to-air missiles scream through the air that I would have occupied. I pull hard on the stick and rollover into a dive heading for the deck. As I come around, I spot the first of the KV-81s. This one is painted with a blue, red, and white check pattern. I can tell just by the paint that I’m facing off against Gustaf Beck. The yellow and green stripped KV-81 just behind him is Beck’s long-time wingman Karla Reinhardt.

I voice the thought that came to mind seeing these two pilots gunning for me. “Oh shit. Where are you Scooby-doo when I need you?”

Then as if summoned by magic over the guard channel I hear a voice that I wanted to just then. Just before both KV-81s came under fire. “GET AWAY FORM HER YOU ASSHOLES!”

The sight of two F1-5E Strike Eagles racing out of nowhere to rescue my ass brought a true smile to my face. I keyed my mike and opened a channel to Scooby as I pulled up out of my dive. “About time you guys showed up for the party Scooby. I hope you brought more than just the one friend. Over”

“Don’t worry about that Scorpion. I brought the whole band with me. You worry about those fracking big bastards inbound. We’ll take care of the Sturmgewehrs. How copy?”

I thought about what Captain Heartlow was ordering me. Of all the fighters form the base I was the only one that stood a chance at stopping the Peacemakers. “Be sure to leave me one or two to play with when I’m done Scooby. Out”

I shove my stick hard right and add some rudder pedal tightening my turn. I push my radar scans to their max and start counting returns again. At eight full returns and no more coming in I know that I barely have enough Mavericks to take them down. Even then I doubt that the ten Mavericks will do the job. I run through the design specs for the Peacekeeper Super Heavy Bomber. The one thing that stands out in my head is their ability to take damage at an unbelievable rate and still keep flying. The biggest reason behind this are the massive six Pratt & Whitney R-4360 and four GE J47-19 heavy thrusters that drove the massive bombers to their normal operation altitudes. Even with twelve miles between them and me I need to climb to reach their cruising altitude if I’m going to stand a chance at taking them down.

Even if I can reach them in time I won’t have much of an operational envelope. Those monsters are going to push the limits of my FB-11 at that altitude. “Lilly, I need an attack plan here girl. And I need it fast.”

“Terresa, we’re going to have to take advantage of the one thing that limits both of our air frames. Head-on or stern attacks. We try turning to bring our main guns to bear and we’ll drop like a damned rock.”

“So, strafing runs only. Gotcha.” I swallow hard and push the throttles to their max. I know that at this altitude I’m going to be burning through fuel at a massive rate. It has to be done though. I need to come at the Peacemakers head on. Even as I climb to meet them I know that I will only have one maybe two passes before they are over the base. IF that happens, it will only take one of those monsters to destroy all of what General Davenport has built. It will force the New Texans into a protracted war they’ll never win. It’ll give the Amazons the one thing they want the most. An all-out, no holds barred, total war with the Empire.

Lead B-36 Peacemaker

Flight Commander Beatrice White smiled at her copilot. “Looks like a little birdy is coming up to play with us, Joan. Let the gun crews please?”

“Sure thing, Skipper. Do you want them to blow it out of the air before it can cause problems with our attack run?” the blonde haired female Amazon asked.

“I think that would be best. I don’t feel like having to come around for a second lineup on the IP. I really do wish those idiots in the Fighter Wings would get a leash on that shemale whelp of theirs. That fighter should have never gotten this far to begin with.” Beatrice sighed out in annoyance.

As the gun crews manned their stations and swung the upper and lower turrets towards the incoming fighter Beatrice really didn’t like what she saw. There was something about the fighter that didn’t sit well with her. This one was actually able to reach their altitude and from the looks of it. That fighter was a real threat. A threat to her bomber and her Squadron. “Joan, tell them to open fire the second they have a radar lock on that fighter. Not one moment longer. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The copilot answered quickly. Joan could tell by the sound of Beatrice’s voice that there was something about this fighter that worried the Skipper. Not that there was a fighter that could get past the firepower of the twin M-24A1 antiaircraft cannons in the turrets. Besides, everyone knew that it took more than a single fighter at this altitude to bring down the Peacemaker. The sounds of the radar targeting controlled gun turrets swiveling to lock onto the incoming fighter was reassuring to Joan and Beatrice. It would be the last reassuring sound they would ever hear in their lives.

Terresa Cole’s fighter.

“Terresa, I know that you don’t want to hear this, but have you double checked the fuel gage?”

“I see it, Lilly.” I gritted my teeth. I was pushing the limits of the Claymore and its engines performance. “If we miss on the first pass do we have enough for a second go at them?”

“Barely, Terresa. We’re burning fuel at a rate that will force us either to climb for the stars or need an inflight refuel. Which with the current situation will not happen until it is resolved.”

I ran the calculations in my head and didn’t like the results. I have just enough fuel for two attacks on those bombers. Even then the only way I can survive the attacks is going to be at Mach 5.5 or higher. At ten miles out and closing I grab hold of the throttles and push them all the way to the stops once again. As I close with the first two bombers I release the only soft spot is the cockpits. With just ten Maverik air-to-air missiles I will need to make them count. For the first-time since I climbed to meet this squadron of bombers I truly smile.

I settle my targeting crosshairs on the lead Peacemaker’s cockpit. When the tone for a hard lock comes I squeeze the trigger. I feel the first Maverik leap from its rail. I watch as the heavy missile speeds its away towards the Peacemaker. I follow it all the way with my eyes. I smile as it impacts on the bubble-like canopy of the bomber smashing its away inside before exploding. I shift my crosshairs the next bomber in line. For whatever their reasons the squadron is flying in line formation.

As I pass over the now dead lead bomber and slip into his Jetstream I realize why. The lead bomber was their pathfinder and cutting the air currents. This simple act allowed for the follow-on aircraft to cruse at altitude by using its contrails for greater lift. Even as they use contrails for lift I use them now to insure their deaths. The smile I wear is no longer the one of a predator’s. No, this smile has no joy in it and fails to reach my eyes. IF my enemy could see my smile their blood would run cold and freeze in their veins. I have finally become the apex predator of the skies over New Texas.

“Time to end this.” I lock onto the next bomber’s cockpit and fire. The Maverik races away. I know this one will need a follow-on strike and fire a second Maverik. The first missile hits just below the cockpit exploding on impact. This explosion almost stops the bomber’s forward movement. The second missile slams into and smashes its way though the canopy to explode halfway into the body of the bomber.

The second bomber falls away just as the first. I start calculating the distances between each bomber and realize that they are flying with a separation of five miles. At first, I don’t understand why then it hits me. They need that distances to carry out their individual attacks on the base. With each five miles I gain another two to three minutes before they can reach their Attack points. That is more than enough time if I push my attack.

The third bomber comes into view and I don’t waste time. I just target the cockpit and fire twice. Again, the result is the same, the death of a bomber. With the fourth bomber coming into view just behind him at almost ten miles from my current position I wait for the distance to close. I need to be closer to make my missiles count. I have use five of those aerospace fighter killers and have five more bombers to take care of. I need to get closer. This time I wait. I bid my time until I am within range of their cannons. This time I let my PPCs and PPLs speak for me.

I don’t bother with targeting the cockpit. This time I target the most exposed weak points of the bomber there is. The engines become the meat for my weapons. I watch as all eight of my PPCs burn through the protective armor of the engine cowlings over the number two portside engine. When the damage reaches critical levels, the engine explodes taking with it the portside wing. I watch as it rolls over and falls toward the planet’s surface. I know that I got lucky, but it is the best I’ve got going for me right now. Like the old saying goes. Better to be lucky in war at times than a tactical genius.

I let my crosshairs fall on the next bomber. As I target the cockpit I feel like something is off but I’m a fighter pilot not a bomber pilot. “Lilly, why haven’t the bomber crews changed direction or pulled off?”

“They can’t, Terresa. These bombers are by now on final approach for their bombing runs. That means they’re on computer guidance and control only.” Lilly’s words hit home. It all made sense to me now.

“Shit no wonder they’re not breaking off. They have no choice but to go through with the attack. Until they regain control over their bombers they’re at the mercy of their computer guidance controls.” I almost felt sorry for the bomber crews. Then remembered that they were out to destroy my friends and family at the base.

I hear the targeting tone ring in my ears. I let my eyes fall on the cockpit of the fifth bomber and squeeze the trigger. Once again, I feel the Maverik race off its launch rail. I watch it all the way to its final impact with the massive bombers cockpit. The missile punches through the armored glass as if it wasn’t there before reaching deep inside to explode. This time the bomber rips itself apart from the inside out. I must have hit the bomb bay and the ordnance stored there. I ride the shockwave that ripples out from the explosion.

Even as I line up for the sixth bomber I know that I’m pushing the limits of my fighter even further. I have to make these clean kills, or the base will suffer for my mistakes. I knew that these bombers were carrying massive bombs along the lines of Earthquake, Block Buster, or Blue Steel Warhammer bombs. Even if just one of those beasts get through the base will be fattened. I finally get a lock on the sixth bomber. I squeeze the trigger once more and follow the missile with my eyes. I can tell that it will be a sure one shoot kill. Instead of hitting the cockpit like the others this one plows through the bombardier’s position in the nose. The resulting explosion flips the bomber nose down into an uncontrolled dive.

I let my smile finally reach my eyes. Just two more bombers. And I’m down to my last three missiles. The tone for a hard missile lock doesn't come. Even as I close with the bomber I wait. It doesn’t make sense, so I switch over to my main weapons and fire. I let my PPCs and PPLs handle a second bomber as I target the nose and cockpit area of the Peacemaker. I fire a second, then third time before finally killing the pilots and bombardier. I breath a sigh of relief as the bomber rolls into a nose dive. With the death of the bomber I finally get a hard lock from my missiles. It is only then that I understand what was going on. The Electronic Warfare officer for the bombers have gotten their act together.

“Shit! Lilly, this is going to be a bitch. Those EWOs have gotten their acts together. How were they able to jam our missile targeting system?”

“Switch over to heat seeker mode, Terresa. We stay with radar guidance they can block our radar returns or override them.”

The moment I heard Lilly’s explanation I knew that I could only attack with my PPCs and PPLs. There was no way that using the heat seeker mode of the Mavericks would take down a Peacemaker. With the way that bomber as constructed the heatsinks were all towards the outer wingtips. Destroying only the wingtips will not be enough to bring down a Peacemaker. You have to destroy the body or cockpit to ensure a clean kill on these bombers. I close the distance to the last bomber. The whole time I hold my fire. I want full charges on all my weapons. I let my crosshairs center on the nose of the bomber. I wait until they turn green signaling a solid target lock.

I still wait and hold my fire. Even as I close the distance the gunners for the bomber open up with their M-24A1 pulse lasers. I cannot dodge, or I’ll miss my target, nor can I fire blindly. I have to push in closer. I have to get right on top of them before I fire. I feel the laser fire hitting along my fighter’s center nacelle and port side engine boom. I keep my eyes on the range finder as it falls. With each one-hundred meters shortening the distances between us. I still wait. Finally, it reaches three-hundred meters and I start to hold my breath. I watch as the range falls away until I am less than one-hundred-and-fifty meters from the bomber. I squeeze the triggers for the PPCs and PPLs. The eight man-made bolts of chain lightning reach out and burn away the proactive armored glass over the cockpit as all twenty PPLs burn their way through the nose of the bomber. Once again the pilots and bombardier die in the blinding flash of my weapons.

I let out the breath I was holding. I push over on the stick I drop towards the ground. I need to bleed off some of my speed. Even at this speed and altitude it will take me more than twenty minutes to get back to help with the defense of the base. I may have stopped the heavy hitters but that doesn’t mean the battle is over. I start double checking my systems on ammunition loadout. I know that I have a full loadout of autocannon rounds and only three missiles left already. It is the PPCs and PPLs that has me worried. Five of my lasers are out of commission along with two of the PPCs. They are all in my portside wing. That is going to make my abilities for aerial combat difficult at best. With almost a quarter of my weapons out of commission I’ll be lucky to take on one KV-81 and win.

The lower I drop in altitude the faster I bleed of the excessive heat that I built up in taking out the bombers. Lilly is the one to point out the really pressing problem though. “Terresa, I hate to say this, but we got a major problem. We’re short on fuel for starters. Next up is the portside engine. The damage it took is considerable. We have lost our ability for supersonic flight. You’re going to have to feather that engine back to minimum rpms. Also, you can forget any high-speed maneuvers. We have sustained far too much damage to the portside and central nacelle to handle the stress. Our best beat is to try and make it back to the base before we fall out of the air. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like walking home.”

“Damn it! I know that bitch is still out here Lilly. We can take her down now.” I was pissed beyond belief. “Why frack couldn’t those assholes showed up sooner?! I could have left the bombers to them and hunted down the Black Bitch!”

I was screaming at this point and pounding on the cockpit wall. I wanted a rematch against the Black Witch. This was the third time that I had been denied my chance at revenge. And the third time because of higher priority targets. To say I was pissed was an understatement.

“Terresa, you need to calm down. I know you want Emily Calisto but you’re not going to get her thinking like this. The bombers were our number one priority this time. The same as the last time. And the time before that she just didn’t show. You have to think about what HER priorities will be. Then we can nail her ass. First though we need to get the Witch repaired.”

“And to do that we need to get our asses home first. Okay Lilly I got it.” I sighed. “Get us down in one piece and find some place to vent. Right now, I need a tall ice-cold beer and a cigarette. Did the base suffer any damage?”

“Two of the Vulcans got through Terresa. That’s the bad news. The good news is only one of the Earthquake bombs did any damage. The other bomb fell outside of the base defenses and only blew a great big hole in the desert. The one that did hit the base took out the old fighter hanger facilities. The runways are in full operation.”

“How did they get through Lilly? I mean between those Fire Support APSs and the ADA missile batteries they should have been shot down.”

“The ADA couldn’t use their radar guidance settings because of the New Texan Fu-4 Corsairs. They couldn’t pick out their Friend-Foe ids from the Amazons. By the time the ADA batteries could switch over to infrared it was too late. The Vulcans were over the base. The only Antiair defense that worked was line of sight. Like those AP Suits that came out to play with our friends.”

I thought about what Lilly said. It all made sense. Without having the New Texans’ FOF Ids they would have been sitting ducks for the Air Defense Artillery Missile Batteries of the base. It also explained why they hadn’t come into play during the aerial battle. With the number of aerospace fighters going head-to-head there was just too high of a chance for a friendly-fire accident. Thinking about the other fighters I had a very unsettling feeling.

“Lilly, of our fighters how many did we lose to the enemy?” I knew that I wasn’t going to like the answer. No matter how low the number was, we could not afford to lose even one fighter or pilot right now.

“All of the Fu-4s were shot down but they all managed to bailout at a safe altitude. The enemy force that was coming in from zero-one-zero was indeed a diversionary force. It consisted of one G1-0N Fugakus, one G8N Renzan, with an escort of ten Ki-64 Robs. The G10N and G8N were both carrying Skyshark Jamming packages. They’re setup to be the biggest target in the skies, Terresa. One so big that it drew off the majority of our defense fighters. If you had not tripped to the false-flag alert the real attack would have left nothing behind.”

“How bad do you think it could have been Lilly?”

“Terresa I have completed my analysis of the bomb loads for the Peacemakers and Vulcans. The base would have been hit by no less than thirty but no more than forty-six twenty-ton freefall bombs varying from standard HE to FA to Blockbuster. The lowest casualty rate would have been around forty-five percent with an upper end of eighty-five to ninety percent. As for the base itself, a total right off. Nothing would have survived.” Lilly got really quiet. “The Amazons will not let us survive Terresa. They have decided that total war is preferable to losing.”

I thought about what Lilly had predicted for the casualty rate and destruction of the base. “No Lilly. They have decided on a war of genocide. I just hope that somewhere out there in the dark is someone is trying to get a relief force in.”

Pirate Jump Point, Smallest Moon of New Texas

The fleet of nineteen Clipper Class dropships slow floated in place waiting for the last of the fleet to arrive. None of their transponders were operating. The owner of the shipping firm stood quietly facing the forward view screen of the dropship’s command deck. The owner knew that the nineteen dropships held the hopes of the Empress in their cargo holds. The hopes for victory and salvation of the people of New Texas. The blinding flash of light that announced the arrival of the last Clipper brought a smile of relief to the shipping firm’s owner. The slightly built woman was not known for her temper, but no one wanted to fail her, especially her captains.

No one in the firm knew where the loyalty of the captains to the owner came from. None of the crews ever tried to find out. The one time someone did ask about the deadly loyalty of the captains they were called into a private meeting with their captain. When that man came out he just told those who asked him what was said to go ask the captain. Ten days later that man was promoted to Second Mate on another dropship. The crew of his old ship thought he had been fired. Little did they know that he had been given the promotion as a reward for his own loyalty. That man now stood at the helm of the Cutty Sark. Only the captains and the owner knew where this loyalty and deep respect came from.

Oh, there were the usual rumors that surrounded most shipping firms. The most liked one though revolved around the owner’s time in the Military and her service to the Empress during the last War of Succession. The only problem anyone had with this one rumor was the fact that the captains could have never been criminals. One maybe two of the captains sure, but not all of them, let alone the Lady Lisa Stiles.

Lisa looked over at the Second mate. “Alright Jack. Send the order to the rest of the fleet. Time to deliver the package.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack Stone just pushed a button on his console, let the rest of the fleet know it was time for them to move out towards New Texas. It was time to drop twenty loads of pissed off mean bad ass teenagers on an unexpecting batch of dipshits and assholes. This was what Jack Stone and the rest of the captains had lived for over the last forty years. They all owed their lives to the Lady Lisa. Debts that can never be repaid. Yet, in all those years, whenever she asked them to put their lives on the line she was right there with them. Lady Lisa Stiles was never officially dubbed the title Lady and made a member of the Nobility but that didn’t matter in the minds of Jake and the other captains. TO them she had EARNED the title of Lady. And damned be anyone who says otherwise.

The sounds of small feet coming up behind her drew Lisa’s attention. Yet she didn’t take her eyes of the view port. “Mom, we’ll be over the planet in three hours. I figure we have maybe twenty minutes after that before the Amazon pick us up on their radar scans. After that we got another twenty minutes before they can scramble their fighters and another twenty before they can intercept us.”

Lisa never looked over at her son, Jimmy but just chuckled instead. “You have been spending too much time around your uncle Jack over there.”

Jack Stone just chuckled at his employer and friend. “HEY! Don’t put all the blame on me Lady Lisa. The rest of us have just as much a part in Jimmy’s education. If you want to talk about threat assessment blame that on Charlie.”

“Alright I will. Now, Jimmy just how accurate is your threat assessment?” Lisa knew that her son had to be wrong but would indulge him anyway.

“I’ll give you an over and under of five minutes on each part of my assessment for the Amazons, mom.” Jimmy smiled. “Want odds to go with that?”

Lisa quirked at her son’s sly smile. “What are you giving oh sweet son of mine?”

-----tbc-----