The Web-fighter which had been dogging Jenson, sticking to his tail like a leach, broke away and made for the crippled vessel. Against a pilot of Jenson’s caliber it was a bad mistake. The Terran pilot performed a tight Immelman turn, reversed course and blazed away at his erstwhile pursuer. Hit by both lasers and the chain-gun, the Web-fighter disintegrated, forcing Jenson to take evasive action to avoid the debris.
As soon as he was clear of the explosion Jenson used the battle-net to call the remnants of his decimated squadron, ‘Alpha squadron, this is Alpha one. Keep the fighters away from Dominator! They’ve taken a full barrage and are badly damaged. The Web-fighters will try to finish the job and we’ve got to stop them!’
‘Alpha one, this is Alpha four,’ blue flight’s leader called. ‘What about the troopships? They’re breaking away from the formation and making for the planet surface!’
Jenson scanned the combat-zone and cursed when he saw what was happening. The running battle had been constantly moving closer to Dyason and the Starweb fleet were now within the orbit of the two moons. Taking advantage of the pause in the battle caused by Dominator’s damage, the troopships were making a dash for the planet. The cruisers had formed a skirmish line to protect them, which meant the allies would have to run the gauntlet to reach the unarmed transporters.
‘Alpha four, forget the troopships!’ Jenson ordered. ‘They’re gone! The cruisers will blast you out the sky if you try to get through that skirmish line! Concentrate on protecting Dominator.’
Sandpiper appeared on his wingtip and rocked his wings. With relief Jenson looked over and saw the grinning face of his old friend. Sandpiper’s Flyship was a mess, crisscrossed by the scorch marks caused by the glancing blows of laser-lances. Jenson figured his own machine was in much the same state.
‘Good to see you in one piece Han,’ he called, ‘I daren’t ask where you’ve been, but your ship’s a mess!’
‘You’re a fine one to talk boss!’ Sandpiper replied in a strained voice. ‘I’m gone for a few minutes and the whole battle turns to shit!’
‘Well, we can’t hang around here all day,’ Jenson said. ‘Shall we do it?’
‘Let’s go!’ Sandpiper agreed.
Together they willed their battered machines forward and the pair of Flyships accelerated toward Dominator with a surge of power.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Southern wastelands—Dyason
The seventeen surviving Starweb troopships dropped through the polluted atmosphere of Dyason and spread out across the planet. Their streamlined hulls and stub-wings glowed white with heat as they screamed through the upper atmosphere, dropping all the time toward the continents below. As the air became thicker the aerodynamic hulls and wings generated lift and the massive troopships flew toward their landing zones.
From their mobile command vehicle, Hillmead and Shalok watched the progress of the invasion force as they spread to the four corners of Dyason. Soon, reports were coming in of the Troopships landing at strategic locations all over the planet. Hillmead would have ordered the attack of the Starweb vessels as they descended through the atmosphere, but it was questionable whether anything less than a nuclear tipped missile would make any impact on the troopships heavy armour. Besides, the plan called for all the crustaceans to be out of their vessels and on the ground. That meant engaging and drawing them away from their ships.
Across the starlit desert sky approached one of the massive, dark machines flying over the collection of underground settlements, which were the heart of the mutants wasteland state. The troopship vectored its thrusters and descended vertically onto a nearby plateau. Vast iris portals opened in the side of the hull and thousands of crustaceans poured onto the desert floor.
Hillmead gave the order and the awaiting mutant troops opened fire with everything they had. Mortars lobbed shells into the midst of the creatures as they scuttled toward the entrenched troops and helicopter gunships opened fire with their chain-guns. For a short while, the mutant fighters stopped the advancing crustaceans, but in keeping with the rules of engagement, the Starweb had equipped its troops with technology and firepower to match the humanoid defenders.
From the top of the troopship arose a horde of insect-like rotor-craft, carrying munitions on winglets protruding from their armoured fuselages. They rose like a swarm into the night sky and descended upon the mutant troops. The plateau became a battlefield, crisscrossed with tracer rounds and flaming missiles.
‘The entire invasion force has landed and divulged their cargo sir,’ the communications officer from the Imperial forces told Hillmead. ‘Our mobile forces have now engaged the crustaceans from all the ships.’
‘Good,’ Hillmead acknowledged. ‘Have the populace taken to the shelters?’
‘Mostly,’ the comms officer told him, ‘there are reports of problems in some of the major towns and cities. Looters are roaming the streets and there have been a few incidents of panic.’
‘Well, the looters are welcome to whatever, the can get their hands on,’ Shalok said grimly, ‘It’ll all be ashes very soon anyway.’
‘Shalok’s right, looters are the least of our problems,’ Hillmead agreed.
‘There are also reports of ethnic unrest in some outlying areas,’ the DF’s intelligence officer added. ‘It would appear that some groups are deeply unhappy about the Democratic Front working with the Imperial Forces on this operation. They don’t believe the line we gave them about environmental changes.’
‘I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t believe in a truce either,’ Shalok commented, taking the report off the intelligence officer. `Some of those alien troopships will have set down near areas of ethnic unrest. The fundamentalists and political extremists probably think this is all part of a new takeover, planned between the military council and the Democratic Front.’
Hillmead shook his head, ‘I can’t help that. We don’t have the time, or the ability, to coerce those who refuse to get into a shelter. There’s nothing we can do about ethnic unrest, when we’re being invaded by a massive alien force! The plan goes ahead, if there are still people on the surface when the time comes, so be it. Tell the police forces to quell the panic and make sure the shelters are secure. The order to withdrawal could come at any moment!’
The comm officer turned and sent the messages as Hillmead watched the battle raging across the plateau. The night sky was being lit up by the flash of explosions. Hillmead fervently hoped the order to head for the shelters came soon; the mutant fighters were already hard pressed.
The gunship flew low over the trenches dug by the defending troops of the 57th battalion of the Imperial army. The recently risen sun glinted off the hull of the massive alien ship, which sat on the plains of Jarrak, some ten klicks from the outskirts of Caranak. The targeting computer bleeped a lock-on and automatically fired an air to surface missile. There was a flash of flame from the port arms pod and the radar-guided missile shot toward its target. It flew over the advancing horde and struck a tracked vehicle that looked much like a battle tank. Ecife felt a sense of grim satisfaction when the alien machine burst into flames.
‘There she blows! It’s a direct hit!’ Camac, his weapons officer yelled from the front cockpit. The computer scanned the area in front of the gunship and marked another target, ‘There’s another alien tank at ten o’clock! Tracking a new target!’
Ecife banked the chopper around and the weapons officer locked onto the highlighted alien vehicle. Once more there was a flash of flame and another missile left the weapons rack. The missile struck the alien machine just below the turret, blasting it high into the sky.
‘Strike two!’ Camac called out. ‘That’s another one that won’t be bugging our guys! They may be ugly, but they certainly ain’t invincible!’
‘Yeah, but look how many of the bastards there are!’ the pilot grunted as he swept the gunship around to search for another target. ‘They match our troops one to one, including the number of heavy weapons and tanks. We�
��re going to have a real problem stopping this lot!’
They overflew a line of the advancing alien tanks and warning lights suddenly lit up Ecife’s panel. He threw the gunship into tight evasive turns, searching for the source of the attack. ‘They’ve go a lock on us!’ he called out. ‘Shit! We’re being fired upon! Incoming missile!’ he called out.
Camac twisted in his seat, peering out the bubble canopy of his lower cockpit, trying to get a visual fix on the incoming surface-to-air missile. He saw a trail of snaking smoke rise from another of the alien tanks and spotted the sleek black object accelerating toward them.
‘I’ve got a visual! Break hard on my call!’ the weapons officer told his pilot. ‘Here it comes…hold it…hold it…break now!’
Ecife did as he was told, pulled hard on the collective control and booted full right rudder. The chopper reared like a startled animal, spinning on its axis. The missile passed through the air the gunship had occupied only moments before, missing them by scant metres. Ecife brought the machine under control and saw the SAM disappear in the direction of Caranak—it had been a close call.
However, any elation he may have felt at their escape was swept away by the sight of a horde of strange rotor-craft descending upon them, like a swarm of angry insects. Much smaller than the Imperial gunships, the alien choppers were mean, sleek black machines, with no cockpits and under-slung gun pods. They flew in a loose formation which spread from one side of the battlefield to the other, vastly outnumbering the Imperial machines. Ecife did his best to get away. He dropped the nose of the chopper and sped toward their own lines, hugging the ground—but the odds were against him.
‘Battlefield control, this is gunship Zero-four!’ Camac, called out on the comm link. ‘We need fighter support now! We’re pursued by an unknown number of alien choppers!’
‘Gunship Zero-four, two squadrons of interceptors are inbound to your location!’ the battle control officer told them. ‘ETA three minutes!’
‘That’s three minutes too long control!’ the weapons officer replied watching the swarm head straight for them. ‘I don’t think we can last that long!’
Ecife did his best to keep the alien rotor-craft at bay; he tried every trick in the book. For a while it looked as if his unorthodox flying would throw the aliens off, and they even managed to down one of the attacking machines as it crossed in front of their chain-gun. But, as the minutes ticked by, the swarm of rotor-craft became more confident and closed in for the kill. Just as the Imperial interceptors were diving down to join the melee, needle thin lasers sliced through the fuselage and cut Ecife’s machine in two. He was only briefly aware of the screams of his weapons officer before the fireball engulfed him.
Dakol stood on top of the mountain and looked at the pall of smoke rising on the horizon. It spread across the sky reflecting the light of the morning sun, staining the world a dirty red; the colour of blood. There was the scream of engines and he looked up to see a squadron of bombers heading for where the alien vessel had landed only minutes before. There were dozens of the fast Imperial jets, all flying close to the mountaintops, the sun reflecting off their under-wing stores.
‘So it’s finally happening. Just as the prophet declared,’ the brother standing beside him whispered in awe, staring at the distant flashes of explosions as if they were part of hell’s inferno.
‘It would appear so, brother Relam,’ the head of the brethren replied, watching the bombers disappear into the distance.
‘Is it all worth it?’ the monk asked shaking his head, ‘Will all this pain, all this death, herald in the new era? Millions are going to die brother; is this what Ishcmall wanted?’
Dakol looked down at the remains of the monastery far below; the debris of war which littered the landscape and said, ‘I hope so brother, I really hope so.’
‘It’s just that it all seems so…costly. So unnecessary! Why would the gods allow so many to die?’ the monk asked, anguish clearly visible on his face.
‘I don’t have the answers Relam,’ Dakol said sadly. ‘I wished I did. All we can do is survive as best we can, then pick up the pieces. That is our duty brother.’
Wearily, with shoulders stooped, he took one last look at the distant maelstrom, then headed for the entrance to the cavern. Relam silently followed, pulling his habit about him, as if he to keep an approaching storm at bay. The other survivors of the order of the prophet Ishcmall, looked up as Dakol entered the shelter. He walked over to the warming fire and accepted a mug of broth from one of the monks.
‘Seal the entrance brothers,’ he told them. ‘Time has finally run out... The soulless ones have arrived and the moment is upon us.’
Relam and several of the brethren put their shoulders behind a large boulder and with the added help of some long levers, rolled the rock in front of the entrance. sealing the order in their underground shelter. Dakol sat on one of the long wooden benches they had placed in the shelter and stared into the flames of the fire. Very soon the world would also be ablaze.
‘You see fellow Guardians? God has shown us the way!’ the presiding mainframe of the Starweb exalted. ‘The humanoids are as good as beaten! Our troopships have landed and our minions have begun to cleanse the planet of the vermin. Once more the humanoids are learning that only through penance, can they seek redemption! Finally, this abhorrent race are accepting their sins!’
‘So it would appear,’ another of the Guardians agreed. ‘I must admit I had my doubts, but they are gone now. The humanoids do indeed appear to be beaten.’
‘Had we revoked the rules of engagement as some of you suggested, we would now be seeking repentance ourselves!’ The mainframe preached to the rest of the Starweb. ‘We must remember, that we are better than these creatures and can defeat them on their own level!
Mainframe 4920/61, Guardian of one of the aquatic worlds of the Starweb, still wasn’t convinced. His investigation into the mind of the female humanoid kept in a growth tank in his lab, was revealing both startling and worrying information. If what he was learning was correct, these humanoids were far more dangerous than the presiding mainframe believed.
‘I feel it may be too early to declare the battle as won,’ he informed the Starweb council, ‘I have been investigating the female humanoid discovered in the corridors of the sub-ether, I have reason to believe our fleet is still in danger.’
‘We are well aware of that pet you keep alive for your amusement 4920/61,’ the presiding computer interrupted, cutting off the Guardian’s transmission of data. ‘But I do not feel now, is the time to discuss the outcome of your—dissection. Our current concern is the penance of the humanoids on this planet. Once their world has been cleansed, there will be time to study your findings.’
4920/61 expressed it’s disappointment and returned to its private investigations. The Guardian still believed there was something different, something incredibly dangerous, about this new race of humanoids. The rest of the Starweb seemed oblivious to the warning signs. Never before, had any of the humanoids they had encountered, shown a talent for mental operancy, or an ability to utilise the sub-ether. But, what was even more alarming than anything else, was the way in which the three races worked together. It was obvious, that at times during the battle, they were combining their mental talent. They were operating as a concert, something never seen before, and this made them a threat not just to God’s worlds, but to the Starweb itself!
The Guardian returned to its experiments on the female humanoid, determined to find irrefutable proof of its theories.
Beams of plasma danced over the hull of the cruiser, making it twist and bulge as the molecules of its composite structure vibrated, releasing heat and energy. However, it made no attempt to evade the cone of Firepower, instead it remained stationary above the Masorak moon-base, scything through the surface structures with its laser-lances and punching holes in the armoured areas with the heavier laser cannons.
Polesy stood in the centre of the underground b
attle-centre, organising the bases defences. Numerous strafing attacks by the Web-fighters had knocked out a substantial proportion of the surface mounted gun turrets. Although Ereed’s Snubfighters had eventually chased them away, the damage had already been done. By the time the cruiser appeared within range of their armament, the moon-base no longer had the Firepower to finish the Starweb vessel off, in one broadside. Now, they were engaged in a battle of attrition, and although there was no doubt that the robotic cruiser would eventually be destroyed, the chances were, it would take the moon-base with it.
‘Gun turret five is overheating sir,’ one of the weapons controllers told Polesy. ‘We’re going to loose it completely at any moment!’
The head of Masorak did his best to appear calm and collected in front of his people, but inside his heart was pounding and the adrenaline was surging through his veins.
‘Get the gunners out of there before it blows,’ he ordered, ‘and get Excalibur on the line!’
A comm link to Excalibur was opened and the strained face of captain Black appeared on the monitor.
‘Black! We’re in dire straights here!’ Polesy told the Terran bridge officer bluntly. ‘This cruiser is gradually slicing us up into pieces! Can you assist?’
‘Negative!’ Black told the Masorak head sadly, frowning and shaking his head, ‘The Starweb have moved their cruisers so they form a skirmish line between your moon-base and ourselves. They’ve obviously changed their tactics and aim to keep our forces separated.’
‘Well, its working!’ Polesy snapped angrily.
‘Can your Snubfighters give you any assistance?’ Black asked hopefully.
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