She’s a tough ship, Kristy mused. She can take it. She must take it.
Her eyes returned to the monitors. She spotted a rolling tube-like machine. A glowing spear-something like a rocket or missile-raised on its back in preparation to fire. She tapped a sequence of buttons and two missiles of her own sped away from the Chrysaor on plumes of smoke. They hit the enemy vehicle before its payload could fire. The vehicle exploded into two parts; the glowing missile fell apart in a storm of sparks.
The Captain’s eyes swept the ground below through the cameras linked to her work station. The Chrysaor’s ‘belly boppers’ had slaughtered thousands of Voggoth’s forces ranging from simple monks to more complex battle wagons. Wrecks of the coral-like hovering platforms that launched the rolling artillery shells lay scattered across the fields. The charred remains of a hundred Ogres blew in the air like volcanic ash carried on the wind. None of the enemy’s flying-ball machines remained in action; they could do no more damage to the defenders of Quincy.
Yet, so many more remained. She saw formations of Robotic Commandos and uncountable numbers of Spider Sentries and more of the Shell-Tanks and rows of walking gun turrets and to either side of the army spun the whirlwinds of the Wraiths.
Kristy fired again. The stream of energy sprayed across the field and through the middle of a half-collapsed industrial structure. The line of fire cut apart a vehicle resembling a locomotive capable of firing surface-to-surface projectiles and slaughtered a number of heavy duty Spider Sentries hiding in the ruined building.
A trio of Spooks made it over the bow and sped across the inactive runway toward the raised tower section at the rear of the ship. Gatling guns made quick work of them.
“Okay,” she said as much to herself as the bridge crew. “It’s time to get one of those Leviathans. Increasing speed-charging boppers…”
Instead of drifting calmly over the fields full of monstrosities, the dreadnought moved at a brisk clip, quickly closing the distance to the walking skyscraper to the northwest. Bolts of lightning from a cluster of small gray clouds struck to either side of the Leviathan as if anticipating the dramatic showdown.
The beast halted its retreat on the farmland outside of Maywood, Missouri; 14 miles west of Quincy. The C hrysaor slowed to a crawl and closed for the kill.
Kristy wanted full power to her weapons; anything less would waste valuable time slicing and dicing while the bulk of the army continued to march on the Mississippi.
“Boppers at thirty percent and charging…”
A blip on the radar screen. Then another. And another.
“Boppers at forty percent…”
She accessed one of the telescopic cameras and zoomed for a closer look. Just as the profile on the radar screen suggested, the blips belonged to a group of Chariots: the blob-like machines that served multiple roles in Voggoth’s army ranging from attack fighters to transports to bombers. They could certainly inflict damage on the Chrysaor, but nothing to be overly concerned about.
“Boppers at sixty percent…”
The flying blobs approached from the west and flew around the Leviathan, just below the handful of storm clouds that had followed the giant’s retreat from the front. The things flew in tight formation and slowed to nearly a stop in the airspace between the battling behemoths.
“Boppers at seventy percent, stand by to fire…”
Kristy expected the ships to use their rapid-fire guns or perhaps launch some kind of missile. What they actually did fell under the heading of ‘unexpected.’
The Chariots crashed together, one after another.
No, that description did not exactly fit. That’s what they appeared to do to Kristy’s eye. They did not exactly crash. They flew into each other one at a time, their blob-ish forms attached like droplets splashing together except they stayed stuck together. One by one the Chariots merged, creating one large blob from a series of smaller ones.
“What the hell?”
Kristy decided the Leviathan could wait. Her fingers interacted with the touch screen in rapid succession, accessing the forward defenses menu category Anti-Air, sub-menu ‘missile defenses.’
Select: Launch bay Bow — 4
Ordnance select: AMRAAM (quantity remaining: 4).
Ordnance loading standby-loading complete.
Arm warhead: Yes — No.
Caution: Warhead ARMED.
Input target acquisition source.
Target acquired from radar lock. Confirm target: Yes — No.
Launch: Yes — No.
The Chariots ceased merging and hung in the air as if catching their collective breath.
Launch.
The missile shot away from a tube embedded in the bow of the dreadnought.
The blob of Chariots rotated, fast. Faster. Spinning like a warped top while still hovering in the sky. A glowing halo of energy formed around mass.
The missile closed.
Kristy did not wait; she loaded air-to-air AMRAAMs into the other three forward launch bays and hurried to fire. She moved a moment too slow.
The Chariots exploded. Not in shrapnel; at least not entirely. More important, they exploded with energy: a ring of crackling blue power that slammed into and coated the dreadnought like a rogue wave sweeping across the deck of a boat. As the wall of energy moved from bow to stern, flashes and bolts of blue and green sparked from the deck plates and warned of more sinister chain reactions within.
The blast enveloped and then passed the bridge and tower section. Electronic work stations flickered; some shot sparks. Video screens filled with dead air before stabilizing; the hair on the back of Kristy’s neck stood straight. The room felt electrically charged.
Then it was gone. The work stations returned to normal operation. Monitors showed what they meant to show. With the exception of several blown but easily replaceable fuses, the Chrysaor felt-felt…
Kristy could not immediately identify her feeling of uneasiness. The Chariots were gone. Ahead of the ship waited the Leviathan, its grotesque skyscraper-sized body stood still like a morbid statue.
Captain Kaufman checked the main batteries.
Fifty percent.
What?
Forty-five percent.
Warning lights flashed across her screens in succession. One stood out above the rest: “DANGER: Gravity Generator Magnetic Field Compromised”.
A frantic voice from the engineering section-located at the bottom rear of the ship-yelled into her earpiece confirming the words on her display: “The grav generators are off-line! Jesus-shit they just cut out!”
Everyone on the bridge-everyone throughout the ship-felt it in their bellies like riders on a rollercoaster cresting that first big drop. The entire craft started to fall. Kristy’s stomach lurched toward her throat.
“Emergency boosters!”
She swerved around in the command module, located the set of controls every dreadnought commander feared to need, and quickly flicked a series of toggles. A hundred small round plates fell away from the ship’s undercarriage and row upon row of rocket engines burst to life with fire and smoke.
The thrust of the emergency engines sounded a like a line of explosions from beneath the mighty ship. That feeling of descending slowed but did not end. The altimeter ticked under 1,000 feet and continued. The back-up rockets were never meant to keep the incredible weight of the ship aloft; they were meant as a supplement to the grav generators in the case of emergency.
Main Forward Battery Energy Leveclass="underline" 30 %.
Kristy-in an act driven as much by spite as anything else-punched the ‘fire’ button. Red strands of power shot out from the bow, across the sky, and into the front of the hideous beast.
The Chaktaw convoy stood ready to move. Nina saw the small army waiting in rows across the eight lanes of Interstate 64 including Lizards the size of elephants serving as pack animals, motorized tricycles with huge wheels, some kind of missile trucks toward the rear of the formation, and hundreds of infantry huddled in groups conversing, snacking, and checking gear.