DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 32: Launces
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Lieutenant Derek Kiln reveled in the feeling of the moment. Here he was, high in the sky, planes on the left, planes on the right, bombers behind, tanks and infantry below, and Launces, the proverbial 'crown jewel' of Syllia not twenty miles in the distance. Protected by what appeared to be a thin line of tanks, infantry, artillery, and a meager air force flying in a defencive pattern above the city. Yes, he revelled in the feeling and the confidence of having complete military and air superiority.
Then again, what else could one expect from a fighter ace of Rotiart's infamous 666th 'Butcher' Wing whose own callsign was 'Reaver'.
Now without his wingleader, Colonel Alfred Marks or the XO, Major Clarence Reese, to boss him around, he had permission to cut loose and go wild and had his squadron of four ready to do the same. As he neared, the red light on the radio flashed and he flipped it to overhear the orders.
"Attention. All Rotarian forces. This is Major General Kantz. We will soon begin the attack on Launces. With the Schildhaven forces dealt with, the Chimera is now on Syllian soil and is closing the noose. The eyes of the Emperor himself are upon you all. Now then, any and all targets outside the Old City are fair game. Homes, barns, farms, warehouses, anything outside the inner wall can be destroyed. However, Emperor Mechanos has given explicit instructions not to shell, bomb, or burn ANYTHING within the inner city or the castle area. Failure to do so will constitute insubordination and disobeying a direct order. Furthermore, intel has confirmed that two of the Royal family, Captain George de Launces, and Major Bertram de Launces are among those defending the city. Orders regarding them are capture at any cost."
There was a sound of rustling paper which caused Reaver to cringe in embarrassment.
(Of course it would be a prepared speech. I suppose the orders are likewise prepared...)
"Right, next section. Bomber, your targets are the Industrial, Commercial, and Residential sectors of the city. Targets of High Importance are Brigadier General Laurance Prescott's Headquarters in the Industrial district, the Launces Home Guard Airfield and Dracocorps Field which is behind the Castle district, Fortifications 19A, 19B, and 19C behind the outer and center walls. 12th Squadron and 3rd Wing, protect and escort the bombers. 666th Squadron, take the 4th Wing, 223rd Squadron, and 501st Squadron and raise some Hell."
Without hesitation, Reaver pushed the throttle to full and felt the jet engine behind him come to life.
"Reaver to all planes, you are clear to engage. If it has Syllian markings, destroy it."
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Bertram couldn't help but dread the sight coming towards them. Row upon row of Rotarian tanks, Halftracks, and Infantry on the ground and row upon row of fighters, bombers, and what looked to be transport planes. He thanked God that his father had the foresight to call the flight back early and then get the J33-A1s fueled, armed, and ready for deployment in an extended battle. Still, the sight of the enemy made him nervous.
Radar confirmed that the Rotarians outnumbered them 7 to 1.
As he watched, he saw several planes break formation and start off towards the city at high speed. At the same time, the radio flashed and a broadcast came through.
"Attention, all Syllian forces. This is Brigadier General Laurance Prescott, by order of our King, I've been tasked with defending Launces from enemy attack. I will not lie to you, we are the few outnumbered by far. We face the enemy at seven to one odds, however, we are Syllian. We are not fighting for an ally today, we are fighting for our own nation, our city, our people!"
Faintly, Bertram heard people cheering in the streets and soldiers cheering through their radios. General Prescott continued.
"Launces has come under attack before and always we have held our ground and made the enemy pay dearly for their hell or high water, never stop, never submit, never retreat, never surrender! The enemy is fielding not only fighters and bombers but also transports meaning they may be deploying paratroopers. Launces is the gate to the east, merely two hundred miles east lies Royalis and the King and Queen. No foe may enter this land of ours. This land is protected by Syllian hands, Syllian blood, Syllian honor and Syllian steel. This is our trial by fire. And all things forged in fore become stronger. So, I ask you all, men and women of Launces, citizens and soldiers of Syllia, I ask you to fight to the last man, to the last bullet, to the last tank, to the last plane. We stop the Rotarian enemy here!"
More cheering came over the radio and Bertram looked back at the incoming foes.
"Attention, all flights. The enemy is as eager to fight as we are. They have sent a force comprised of high-speed fighter-interceptors and jets. The 1st Wing will take care of the jets, all others, engage the enemy fighters and if possible, make your way to the bombers and transports. I cannot condone having hostile paratroopers landing on Syllian soil."
Acknowledgement came through almost immediately and several wings closed in with his to engage the incoming enemy.
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George had heard the speech on the radio and silently swore. One of the Iron Legion's officers had checked his radio and discovered that there was nothing wrong with it and, after gazing at his medical report, the officer had concluded that his hearing was to blame and had removed him from command of the tank. George could only now watch from atop the outer wall as the enemy closed in and the battle lines closed with each other. He gazed around at the soldiers on the wall and noted their apprehension, their fear, but also their courage.
Every man and women here, from the snipers, riflemen, and machinegunners to the stationary battery crews and stationary AA guns to the crews of the Fahrpanzers, narrow-gauge locomotives outfitted with a tender-mounted high-velocity cannon or anti-aircraft cannon for a (somewhat) mobile defense.
The Fahrpanzers had been created after the Southlands Conflict when the walls around the city were widened to withstand the weight of narrow-gauge locomotives originally meant to carry ammunition to the stationary batteries. A few years ago someone had the bright idea to mount armor to the tender including a dome-shaped turret with either a 75mm close range cannon or a twin-mount 35mm AA cannons. The idea was so novel yet interesting that the man recieved a commission to created eighteen more of them.
The outer wall had 16 stationary 155mm cannons, 12 fahrpanzers, 27 heavy machineguns of various calibers, and had 10 sniper posts which each held three teams of a sniper, a spotter, and a defender, a soldier assigned to protect the sniper and spotter if the position was compromised. The posts were stone bulwarks that rose above the wall and held the sniper post on the balcony on the third post, an anti-air gun post on the roof, a machinegun battery on the second floor, and a tunnel to allow the fahrpanzers to roll along the length of the wall unimpeded.
Because he had also been assigned to an artillery group before being reassigned to the armored corps, George was overseeing Battery 12 on the wall. The crew of this gun knew their duty. He was only assigned to it because their gunnery commander had been caught drunk on duty. He watched as they prepared the rounds and readied their cannon, awaiting orders from the Tower.
The Tower was, quite literally, the brains of the whole wall defense. Though called Fort George, named for George's deceased Uncle, the Tower was a keep that had been modernized to withstand bombings and heavy artillery. Nothing short of a naval-caliber gun could dent the fortification. Within its steel-reinforced walls was a lookout post, a radar rangefinder similar to the ones found on naval warships, and a switchboard with phone lines leading to every single artillery crew, fahrpanzer signal station, and sniper post along with a line running to the next wall, a line running directly to the castle, and a radio room with a dedicated channel to military command in Royalis.
Looking up, George could see the radar mast rotating slowly as the operators inside the Tower confirmed the range of the enemy so that the cannons could support the tanks and infantry on the ground. He watched as it slowed turning, faced the enemy, and stopped. Moments later, the phone rang and he answered it without delay.
"This is Battery Twelve. What's our solution?"
"Firing solution is Grid 8, Sector 12. Range to enemy lines is three point eight miles and closing. Recommended elevation is zero-two-three degrees. Recommend Crater-Maker rounds. Fire at will."
Crater-Maker rounds were modified artillery rounds that were less of a shell and more of a warhead. The addition of high explosives and a double payload allowed this shell to pierce the ground and create a deep crater to either obstruct the enemy's advance or deal serious damage to armor.
"Battery copies. Grid 8, Sector 12, 3.8 miles, twenty-three degrees." George turned and repeated the coordinates to his crew who loaded the cannon and moved the elevation to the designated range and then turned to him. He looked to the crews to the left and right of his and nodded.
"Commence barrage, fire at will."
With a tug of the lanyard, the 155mm 'Crater-Maker' shell fired. The report of the gun was deafening compared to that of a tank's main gun. Take that echoing boom that seemed to shake the teeth out of your skull and multiply that times sixteen and George wondered that he didn't finish going deaf.
(No wonder our artillery instructors at the academy always shouted. They were probably half deaf themselves.)
He saw the crew load another round and fire and he picked the binoculars up to look at the line and was rewarded with a series of explosions as the shells landed near, in front, or right on the encroaching tanks. The shell from George's cannon actually landed on target, coming down directly on top of an enemy heavy tank, an SpZ-6, crushing the front which then flipped the sixty ton behemoth 'ass over teakettle' as the old saying went. It literally flipped upside down and came crashing down in the turret which then brilliantly exploded and sent shrapnel from the tracks and wheels into the halftracks and infantry nearest to it.
There were a few other such hits but the rest landed amongst the infantry or among the halftracks following them. The next volley landed just before the ranks, creating craters and forcing the enemy to slow their advance, giving the Syllian tanks time to take aim and start firing their own guns.
A loud, high pitched scream got his attention, forcing him to tear his gaze from the battle before him and look to the battle high in the skies above.
There were two battles above them. The battle between the Syllian RAF and the Rotarian RAAF, and then the fight at a lower altitude.
The battle between the Rotarian Griffon Corps, and the Syllian Dracocorps.
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Zakwell had been perched on the tower of the Castle like an oversized gargoyle for several moments, watching the enemy forces close in on Launces. His sharp vision able to discern individual soldiers among the vast enemy force. His force of eighty dragons either clinging to the castle or spread throughout the city. He was the Commander of the entire Dracocorps for the Western Region of Syllia and had gathered several dragons not just from the Dracocorps but also several volunteers from the nearby dragon settlement of Volcanus.
The moment the sirens sounded and the artillery on the outer wall started firing, Zakwell roared out to his force and together they winged their way towards the battle. As they crossed the outer wall, a series of squawks got his attention and he looked up and snarled with savage glee.
"Griffons! Forward above and below! Their diving for the wall artillery!"
The sight of griffons stirred the blood of the Syllian dragons who remembered the stories of their ancestors about griffons.
Sharp beaks, talons, high pitched screeches, families butchered, eggs broken, young devoured. Fighting both man and dragon and showing mercy to neither.
The dragons let their rage show and they roared as they dove or climbed to meet their foes. There was only one difference. Unlike the golden griffons of the stories, these were pitch black. Zakwell remembered the reports from Avalon and realized what they were.
(Dread griffons...)
He used the energy he'd been building up to unleash a lightning fury that shot out in all directions and illuminated the sky. He satisfyingly saw that he had hit several griffons with that attack but then saw that he had also attracted the attention of an entire squadron of griffons as well as several enemy tanks that started firing upwards towards him. Shells exploded around him as he weaved through the formation and scowled angrily. He climbed upwards to engage another group of griffons angling towards a fahrpanzer on the wall.
This time he had help from a fire dragon and an ice dragon and together they plowed through the wing and headed towards a group of dragons that looked like they were having trouble. As Zakwell got closer, he recognized Aaros and realized that the wing was Aaros' 'hatchling wing'.
A hatchling wing was a wing comprised of one senior Dracocorps dragon and six dragons who just completed the dragon equivalent of basic training. Among Aaros' wing Zakwell recognized Aaros' own son, Tempest, Shimmer's daughter, Glimmer, he saw a few other familiar faces, and then he saw another flash of light and gaped as Caldor, a young light dragon, darted down and started attacking griffons one after another, eyes bright with rage. Zakwell sighed inwardly as the young light dragon darted about.
(Well, if he inherited one thing from that sire of his, I'm glad that he's using his temper for better reasons than him. Then again...that kid sure had it rough...)
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Caldor again charged forward and started slashing at a griffon with his claws and didn't stop until it was mincemeat. He attacked his enemy with determination and fervor. He'd made up his mind when he had heard that Launces was under threat. He would either fight and fight and fight until everyone, everyone, in the Dracocorps, acknowledged that he was not his father's son. That he was nothing like his sire. His sire, his father...Silverus.
A loose cannon...
A firebrand...
Disobediant...
Uncivilized...
Wild...
Dishonorable...
...
...
...
A murderer...
A traitor...
Silverus had been considered one of the best Wing Commanders in the Dracocorps. He was strong, polite, all the things that light dragons were known for being...
Too bad it had been all a front...
Silverus' public reputation had been completely shattered with the duel against the fire dragon, Ignitus, almost twenty years ago. Not only had he, in all his arrogance, broken the one law that should never be broken. He had convinced a dragon, his Lieutenant, to attack and attempt to kill not only Ignitus but also Magothera, eldest daughter of James de Launces, then Count of Launces, now King of Syllia. Once the dual was over and he was arrested, word began to spread about some dragons witnessing outbursts but never paying attention to them because they were either sure he was having an off day...
...or they were absolutely terrified of him.
Rayxor had been more than Silverus' lieutenant. Being considered a 'noble', Rayxor was his aide, his assistant, second, bodyguard and...for lack of a better word...his shadow and right hand...er claw. Investigations had discovered that three dragons had vanished under mysterious circumstances wherever Silverus and Rayxor had been. Searches in several non-discript locations revealed the hurriedly concealed remains of the missing dragons.
All had burn marks on their bones consistant with lightning, light, or both. That little bit of information had been the final nail in the coffin of both dragons.
Caldor had been six when word that Rayxor and Silverus had been executed for their crimes in 1921. His mother was unceremoniously dismissed from the Dracocorps, her honor and reputation ruined beyond repair. Several times he had heard other dragons and humans muttering about him, calling him the Traitor's Child, among other names. He had learned to be tough to survive as his grandparents would have nothing to do with him, nor would his aunts and uncles.
He was his father's child...the blood of a traitor, a monster, a murderer, flowed through his veins...they considered his every bit a bad as his father.
He had made up his mind...he would fight until his body gave out and he fell from the skies...
...or he was killed by the enemy.
Either way, he would be dead. Those who cursed him and hated him with every fiber of their beings would have their satisfaction. He would fade from memory...the sins of his father dying with him.
He fought recklessly, wildly, without abandon. He didn't give a damn if he lived or died. He was the most disliked dragon in his wing and in the whole, entire Dracocorps. He decided that if he was to die, he would kill as many of the enemy as possible. He would never be a hero. He would never amount to anything. Most males his age were busy thinking about finding a mate, having kids, living an honorable life.
What female would want to lay next to a dragon who's father was a traitor and a murderer?
As he fought, he was aware of a pair of eyes watching him and glanced to see Zakwell following his motions. Sparing a moment to gaze down at the ground battle, he saw the tanks nearing the wall and now firing rapidly at the batteries. Up above, the fighters were engaging and were trying their hardest to stop the bombers and transports from reaching Launces. Then, he saw a sight that made his blood run cold.
A fair distance away was a female dragon who he knew by face but not name and she was being attacked not by griffons but by an aircraft that though shooting down a dragon more exciting than shooting down a machine. Roaring defiance, he shot forward towards the incoming aircraft, a Rotarian jet, and fired a beam of light straight at it.
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The roaring of the jet had drowned out the noise the dragons and griffons made, each turning to look on as the jet bore down on a female dragon who had been injured while disengaging an enemy griffon. Suddenly, a beam of light shot forward and the dragons looked on with disbelief as Caldor launched himself at the jet. The light beam shot through the nose, destroying the rotary cannon that was revving up to end the life of the dragoness.
Zakwell watched as Caldor rammed the jet mid-air and sunk his claws into the wooden body and used his tail blade to slice at the engine time and again. His weight forced the plane into a steep dive and the pilot frantically tried to bail out but was unable because the second he did, the jaws of Caldor would be waiting.
Zakwell dove, hoping to catch up with the falling jet but another roar drowned out the den of battle and another jet screeched by and fired at both the jet and Caldor. Zakwell watched as rounds struck the engine of the jet, setting aflame and also saw rounds pierce Caldor's wings, forcing him to break his grip on the jet and fall.
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Caldor felt burning pain as the rounds shredded the membrane of his wings. He felt his grip on the jet weaken and suddenly release as the jet fell away and exploded. He fell, unable to catch enough air to stabilize his flight and sighed.
(So...death it is. I have no regrets. I've done my best, all things considered.)
Just as he resigned himself, he felt a set of claws grab him fiercely and heard a groaning above. Gazing up, he was shocked to see the dragoness he had saved sinking her claws into his side and straining to carry him from where he was going to crash and instread released him over the Blue River.
He struck the cold water of the river with enough force to create a wave that swamped a small boat, skipped across the surface, and slammed into the shoals and was knocked unconscious.
On the wall, and above it, the battle continued.
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George watched as the crew unloaded the shells from the lift that led to the armory and rubbed his ears irritatedly while the other cannons kept firing. The enemy tanks were now so close that they were practically firing either on the zero axis, meaning the barrel was completely level, or they were calculating the negative scale meaning lowering the barrel as far as they could to try a point blank hit.
At some point, the crater shells, the anti-armor shells, and the high explosive shells had run out and they were being reloaded with heavy caliber solid shot, shredder rounds, and time delayed air burst rounds. George gazed left and right and sighed at what was left of the batteries on either side of his.
Battery 11 had been destroyed by a lucky tank shell skimming the top of the wall and slamming through the traverse gears and shattering the recoil springs. Battery 13, true to the stigma of the 'unlucky 13', was subjected to a full rocket barrage, six tank shells, two dive bomb attacks, and a griffon deficating on it after a near miss from a Fahrpanzer shot right between its hind legs.
George's crew readied to fire when suddenly he heard a whistling noise and felt someone tackle him from behind as an artillery shell came streaking across the sky and impacting the barrel of the gun, splitting it in half. George pushed whoever had tackled him off and got to his feet to see that the cannon was done for. He then turned to the person who was struggling to his feet and was about to say something when another shell arced through the air and impacted the Tower, blowing the top section off and showering George with dust and debris. He turned to see a pale officer looking stunned towards the south.
Almost dreading the turn, he did so and saw a machine that looked like it could have been built by his Father, the only thing was that this machine's weapons were pointing at the Launces defences and that the machine had Rotarian colors flying from it.
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Bertram fired another burst at the transport just as the door opened up and he could see the glimpse of a Rotarian paratrooper's uniform in the doorway. The cannon rounds ripped through the plane's starboard engine causing it to splutter and then seize before anti-air guns on the ground ripped through the cockpit and finished it off. As it fell away, he gazed down and saw a Rotarian jet harrassing the dragons below. As he dove at it, a dragon intercepted the plane, forced it to crash but not before another jet, this one marked as a wingleader, opened fire, wounding the dragon and destroying the plane.
He flipped the stick into a wing-over and dove at the enemy jet. Even from a distance he could see that the jet he was chasing wasn't Marks but then again, he didn't expect to see that coward here.
"Still, he's in the same force as Marks...could be a subordinate..." He switched his radio to the channel frequency.
"Dieter, this is Bertram, where are you?"
"Sandwiched between two bombers and trying not to get my ass shot off. Why, you spotted something?"
"Affermative. I have a wingleader from the 666th in my sights. Any insight?"
"What's his ensign?" He narrowed his vision and used his abilities to see an emblem on the fuselage.
"Looks to be a...skull with a crossed axe and scythe." There was silence before...
"I'm breaking off and coming to you. That's Lieutenant Derek Kiln, callsign Reaver. Sadist, educated at the Grey Wells University, graduated flight school fifth in his class, ironically ahead of Marks. He thrives in high speed engagements and loves getting thrills from performing high G maneuvers. He's a slippery sonuvabitch and it's best to engage him with backup."
"Dieter, can't wait for you, he's diving on what looks to be civilians evacuating the outer city."
Dieter cursed but Bertram pushed the throttle to full and angled his jet on an intercept course. He waited until he closed in with the jet until he felt turbulance from the engine and fired a burst. A split second later, Reaver executed a textbook roll and dodged the burst and flipped around to try and get on Bertram's tail. On his radio, he heard laughing as he rolled to dodge a burst.
"Honestly Major de Launces, did you think I wouldn't notice you closing on me? That would be the sort of mistake a rookie would make. A mistake that you have just made."
Just as Bertram rolled to dodge, cannon fire echoed and he saw Dieter, Ayatane, and Jake diving onto Reaver, guns blazing. He easily evaded the attack and then pushed the throttle to full and took off towards the city proper. Bertram swore.
"He's headed into the city! Dieter, Ayatane, Jake, go high and tail him. I'll follow his tail!"
Not waiting for an answer, Bertram dove for the deck and pushed the throttle wide open to try and catch up with Reaver as he blew over the second wall and opened fire on the buildings in the outer residential districts. As shattered glass and masonry fell everywhere, Bertram flipped his wings vertical and flew in between two under construction high rises in pursuit. Spotting Reaver again, he saw that he was flying towards the castle, fully intent on strafing the train station nearby that was currently evacuating civilians. The gust from the passing jets rang the bells in the Launces Cathedral towers and actually shattered the stained glass windows as well. Bertram cursed and keyed the radio.
"Dammit! He's going too fast, I can't get a shot on him and he's headed for the train station!" Then a cackling laugh came on the radio.
"Say goodgye to the train station, Major. Oh, look at that, a good looking female cheetah from Avalon is down there...she'll make a nice stain on the platform." Bertram paled as he said that but then heard a yell in the radio and saw Ayatane's plane diving from the clouds, guns blazing. Reaper pulled up at the last moment and evaded the attack again before doubling back and opening fire.
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George watched as the huge machine creapt slowly forward. Sirens throughout the city were going off. Fires were everywhere on the wall and in the fields n front. Cannon shells from the tanks were firing at the reinforced gate trying to break through. He looked about to see if he could do anything but settled for helping the wounded get loaded aboard the Leopold M4s that served as medevacs for the Royal Army. As he shut the doors to the last one, he saw someone come up to him. It was the wall commander and he was worried.
"Captain de Launces, I must ask you to leave this to us and get yourself evacuated immediately." George looked at the commander like he was crazy and shook his head.
"Like hell I am. This is my post Commander and here is where I'm staying. This fight isn't over yet." The Commander grabbed him by his coat, something no officer, or anyone for that matter, had done before.
"It is for you. As of now, I am relieving you of your post, you are no longer an officer in the Royal Army, you are the Crown Prince of Syllia, the heir to the throne, and I'll be damned if I let you remain here to get killed. Now I know where I'm staying. I'll face my fate here. You however, have to leave, conscious or not." He then turned to look over his shoulder.
"Sergeant! Front and center!" The Sergeant came and saluted before seeing George, recognizing him, and hastily saluting him again.
"Sergeant, get a vehicle, I don't care what kind it is, and get His Highness out of here, now!" The Sergeant sputtered for a moment but then saluted and turned away and ran off for the motorpool at the wall garrison. George turned back to the Commander and began serious.
"Commander. Does this mean what I think it means?" The Commander nodded solumnly.
"Yes. The appearance of that superweapon has effectively put an end to our evacuations. We on the wall can't evac but some people may still be at the station. Get to the station, get on a train, and head for Royalis. Launces won't last much longer."
At that moment, there was an explosion in the distance and almost instantly the sirens stopped and the lights in the wall fort flickered as the backup generators came on. The Commander swore.
"Bastards got the hydroelectric plants on the lake and river. The whole city is running on the few remaining crystal energy and coal power plants in the Industrial sector and who knows how long they'll last. You have to get out of the city, sir. We'll hold here and keep the bastards occupied for as long as possible."
George nodded and then saw the Sergeant returning with a M4 medevac.
"Your Highness! This is the last vehicle and she's only got room for one more!" George nodded and climbed aboard the vehicle with the wounded. As the vehicle pulled away, he saw the garrison at attention and salute him as he closed the doors. Once the doors were shut, he took a seat next to a wounded soldier and wept silently.
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Bertram watched as Ayatane engaged Reaver. He was like a man possessed. He rolled, dodged, flipped, and rolled again. Things were getting dicey now as the two jets were flying around the castle and in between the towers. Bertram was trying to catch up but for some reason his engines wouldn't speed up. The throttle was at 100% power yet the engines were only putting out 65%. All he could do was watch as the two fought.
Then, suddenly, Ayatane's right engine sputtered and flamed out. Bertram paled.
"Ayatane! Dive! Dive! Get the hell out of there! Dieter, Jake, get up there and help him!" He watched as they climbed and Bertram gazed around, realizing he'd lost sight of Reaver. As he gazed around the castle, the lights in the city began to flicker and some sections actually went completely dark. Then, he saw a shadow moving at high speed.
"Ayatane! He's low by the castle! Get out of there!"
The warning came too late.
Reaver came up beneath Ayatane and opened fire, raking the underbelly of the jet with cannonfire and riddling the fuselage and wings as well. At that moment, the left engine caught fire and Ayatane's plane began to drop.
"Ayatane! Bail out! Bail out!" He barely heard the reply.
"Can't do it Bertram...C-Caught a round in my back...I...I can't move."
"No! Don't you dare say that! Now you pull that release lever, and get your ass out of that plane and that's an order! Do you here me Captain Ayatane! Bail out, NOW!"
"S-Sorry Bertram...that's o-one order I cannot follow...D-Do me a favor...tell Sahne that...I love her very much...and tell her that...I'm sorry..."
Bertram watched as Ayatane's plane began to spin, all the while he kept hearing from Dieter and Jake yelling for Ayatane to bail out. At the last moment, the jet rolled violently and pitched hard towards the outer-most tower of the castle.
"Ayatane! Get out! Get out! Get out NOW!"
There was no reply.
Ayatane's jet plowed nose first into the tower and exploded into a massive ball of flame. Bertram's mind quickly seemed to think that's where the armory for the castle guards was and he was right as moments later the lower section of the tower bulged outward and began to lean and then fall.
Right towards the cathedral and a building Bertram knew was one of his father's workshops. The tower took out the south half of the cathedral and completely flattened the workshop which exploded in several explosions.
Bertram felt tears on his face and gazed about angrily for Reaver's jet but he had vanished. The radio was crackling, forcing him to adjust the frequency. The words he heard nearly tore his heart out.
"This is the Launces City Guard at the first wall. We have been breached! Enemy superweapon has breached the wall! We are unable to retreat! Any forces remaining in the city, Army, Dragoons, Dracocorps, Air Force, anyone, evacuate the city. Launces has fallen! Repeat: Launces has fallen!"
The radio suddenly went silent and Bertram looked around to see dragons from the Dracocorps landing in the crowded central avenue and taking people, young, old, women and children onto their backs and then taking off again. The East gates were blown open and a convoy of Leopold ATCs and medevacs escorted by tanks, trucks, and various other armed vehicles blew through them at high speed.
The six passenger locomotives at the train station as well as the armored combat train and the freight train started off slowly but picked up speed as they left the city. Bertram watched the trains leave and then keyed the mike.
"This...This is Major Bertram de Launces of the Launces First Air Wing, requesting vectors for my flight to retreat to the nearest allied air base. Anyone copy?"
"This is Stonefort Air Force Base. Launces First Air Wing, come to course zero-five-seven and evacuate the airspace. Before they went dark, Launces Aerial Command detected several more Rotarian jets inbound. Looks like the 666th isn't the only show in town anymore."
"Copy that. Alright, all aircraft, come to course zero-five-seven and evacuate the area. We're heading for the Dragon settlement of Stonefort."
As Bertram wheeled around, he gazed back at the fallen tower and spied the burning wreckage of Ayatane's jet and felt more tears as he saluted.
(Don't worry old friend, I'll get the bastard responsible for this. Mark my words.)
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The M4 that George was riding in was somewhere between the inner gate and the city proper when the evac order came through. He looked forward to the driver, the Sergeant, and frowned.
"Can't this thing go any faster?!" The Sergeant shook his head.
"I've already got it at full speed! There is a supercharger but if I activate it here, chances are we'll-"
He never finished the sentence as suddenly artillery shells began raining down all over them. The Sergeant swore and looked back.
"Everybody hang on!"
An artillery shell came down right beside the M4. It didn't pierce the armor but the force of the blast lifted the M4 up and flipped it onto it's side. George went flying inside it and landed hard against the hull, knocking himself out.
Throughout the city, the sirens that continued to wail despite the loss of the hydroelectric plants, fell silent one by one. Street lamps lost power because the workers at the power plant evacuated. One by one, lights went out all over the city, houses, businesses, fell into darkness. The outer residential went out first, then the inner residential, the inner commercial districts, the airfield, the train station, all went dark. The lights at the Industrial sector flickered and faded. The power at the castle persisted longest before finally, the back ups gave out, and the castle was plunged into darkness.
The only lights in the city were the fires started either by bombs and rockets that fell onto the city, wreckage from downed aircraft and destroyed tanks, or fires set by desperate citizens who decided to burn their homes and businesses rather than see them fall to the enemy.
The fires were the only lights in a city covered in darkness.
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Mechanos watched from the bridge of the Chimera as part of the inner city burned. With most of the bombers and transports destroyed, damage to the city was relatively light. Unfortunately, only one of the major objectives he had issued had been met. Then he watched as a plane crashed into a castle tower which fell into part of the city where his intel had said one of James de Launces' last workshops was located, effectively destroying it as well as destroying a good portion of the city's cathedral. Mechanos sighed and turned to his officers.
"Launces is ours but it is a hollow victory. We did not capture either George or Bertram de Launces, the workshop where the blueprints I was interested in was destroyed, and too few of the forces that were meant to occupy the city made it into the city. I shall be returning to Shadowfell, once the man responsible for downing that plane which damaged the castle, the cathedral, and destroyed the workshop is found, I want him arrested and brought before me. General Heins, you are to assume command of the occupation forces of Launces. I will leave a few engineer corps with you to restore power to the city so that you won't be in the dark. There will likely be some form of resistance from the remaining citizens. Deal with them harshly."
In the distance, atop the castle, soldiers from Rotiart lowered the flags of Syllia and Launces, tossed them from the top, and raised a new flag in their places. It had dark grey and black bordering, a white middle, two Rotarian emblems on either side of a Syllian cross which was covered by the grey and black diamond of the Rotarian Army.
Launces had been occupied.
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Whew. Okay, so this chapter is done everyone! So, Launces has been occupied, Bertram escaped, Ayatane has been killed, and George is unconsious somewhere in an overturned medevac in an occupied city.
What awaits him? Find out in the bext chapter.
Next Chapter: Lost Hope