For the first time I began to entertain hopes of emerging from the battle alive.
Then we were at our target zone. At my signal the formation expanded, each Tzen increasing the distance between his flyer and his teammate's. Then, as a unit, we climbed toward the treetops and the Bug War began.
The combat, like any combat, soon became too fast-paced for conscious thought. We had trained with our flyers and weapons until they were a part of us, and their use was as unthinking as flexing our talons. Our minds and senses were focused on the Enemy and the terrain.
Thoughts became a flashing kaleidoscope of quick impressions and hazily remembered instructions. Use the cold-burn rays as much as possible...less effective than the hot-beams, but they'll damage the forest less...we'll want to settle here someday...Swarm massing to block flight path...burn your way through...don't wander more than five degrees from your base course...sweep three nests simultaneously with a wide beam...if you wander you'll end up in a teammate's line of fire...turn ninety degrees...turn right, always right...Kor is on your right...don't trust her for a left turn...avoid the tree trunk and burn the nests as your weapon bears...Enemy on the wing tip...roll...burn the nests...don't wander from base course...
We were working our zone in a broken sweep Pattern. A straight geometric pattern would have been easier to remember and more certain for a complete sweep. It also would have been predictable. If we tried to use a geometric sweep, by the third pass the Enemy would be massed and waiting for us. So we continued our twisted, seemingly random pattern, crossing and recrossing our own path, frequently burning our way through swarms of the Enemy flying across our path in pursuit.
...Turn to the right...burn the nests...cold-beam rays only...
We were constantly flirting with disaster. Our flyers could outdistance the lumbering Enemy; but if we used our speed, dodging trees required most of our attention, and we ran the risk of missing nests. If we slowed our speed to an easy pace for sweeping, the Enemy could either overtake us or move to intercept. So we flirted with death, sometimes plunging recklessly ahead, sometimes rolling as we turned to free our flyers of the Enemy clinging to the wings, threatening to drag us to the ground with the sheer mass of their numbers.
...Avoid the trees...burn through a swarm...turn to the right...burn the nests...roll...
One thing bothered me. The mission was going too smoothly. I received no sign-off and visually confirmed on the passes when I was bringing up the rear. All our flyers were still with us. We had not lost any team members. If the other divisions were experiencing similar success, there could be difficulties when we headed back.
...Don't wander...roll...turn to the right...burn the nests...
We were near completing the sweep of our zone. I was concerned about the north border, however. The team zones overlapped to ensure no "live" pockets were accidentally overlooked. This meant careful timing between the teams was necessary to be sure two teams didn't sweep the same region at the same time and accidentally fly into each other. It was a bothersome but effective system; however, something was wrong. We seemed to be the only ones working the region by the north border, and when we turned, we could see nests remaining beyond our zone.
Something was very wrong with the flight team to our north. The end of our sweep was upon us, and I had to make a decision fast. This was not particularly difficult, as there was really only one course of action to be followed. We could not risk leaving unburned nests behind. This was a genocide war. If we left any eggs behind, we would have to come back later and fight this action all over again, but this time against an Enemy that was prepared and waiting for us. We couldn't leave those nests behind.
As we completed our sweep, I signaled the formation to return to the north border. This undoubtedly caused some consternation in my team, but they were Tzen, and they followed without complaint as I led the formation in a turn to the left. In this situation, a turn to the left was safe. I didn't have to worry about Kor, as long as we were moving, to prolong contact with the Enemy.
The fighting became more difficult as we made our supplemental sweep. This was only to be expected. Not having had an opportunity to work out a coordinated random pattern, we were forced to work a simple back-and-forth geometric pattern. As it has been noted before, geometric patterns are suicidal.
We had reached a point where we were spending as much time burning swarms of the Enemy as we were burning nests when the long-awaited call was beamed into my mind. When we crossed into another flight team's zone we turned on the trespass beacons in our craft to alert the assigned team of our presence, and we were finally getting a response.
"I have a fix on your beacons," came the thought. "While I appreciate the assistance in covering this zone, I can now complete assignment without additional support. You may return to rendezvous point."
I noted her use of the word "I" instead of "we."
"What is your condition?" I queried.
"Five flyers lost. My own canopy is breached. It is therefore impossible for me to meet pickup ship. However, I can complete the mission. Feel free to return to rendezvous point."
What occurred to me was the difficulty our six flyers had had sweeping this zone, giving rise to the question of the lone flyer's ability to finish the job. I rejected the thought. She was a Tzen. If she said she could complete the mission, she could complete it.
"Return to rendezvous!" I beamed to my team and slammed my flyer into a steep climb out of the trees.
I experienced a moment of worry about Kor, but it appeared to be without basis. As we broke out into the predawn light, she was in her appointed position in the formation.
I did not ponder the nobility of the Tzen who sent us on, staying to fight alone. Among the Tzen, this was not exceptionally heroic. Rather, it was our expected performance of duty.
The sky was empty of other flight teams as we streaked toward the rendezvous point. This was not surprising, as our supplemental sweep had taken us extra time. The other units were probably already at the rendezvous point.
Far below I noticed a portion of the forest blazing. Apparently someone had been careless with the use of his hot-beam. I studied it as we flashed overhead. It was in a relatively small portion of the forest, set off from the main mass by a river. Hopefully the river would halt the fire's march. After all this trouble to keep the forest intact, it would be disappointing to see it all lost because of one flyer's carelessness.
We were almost at the pickup point, and our formation was climbing steadily to gain the necessary altitude. We could see the transport now, and as we drew closer, the small cloud of flyers waiting their turn in a holding pattern.
I tried to ignore the implications of this as our team joined the holding pattern. Either we weren't the only ones who had had our mission delayed, or...
I forced the thought from my mind, It was almost our turn for entry. I led my team away from the ship in a long circle, allowing maneuvering room for the members to rearrange the formation from a tetrahedron to a single file. Ready now, we turned our line toward the ship, setting a bearing for the open pickup port.
The port was closed. As we watched, the transport broke orbit and began to move away, gaining speed as it went.
CHAPTER THREE