Out Of Space - Chapter 653: All Hail Firepowaar!

“Claymore One, this is Beholder, you have air support in the AO,” The surveillance wing ship circling above the battle reported. “Callsign Warrior. Channel Four. Over.”

“Roger!” Tyrier yelled back over the din of the battle to his comms. His rifle locked back as he fired emptied his remaining magazine at a screaming Beetle Head just several meters away, shredding his magic barrier and turning his scream into a dying gurgle. “Reloading!”

He ducked down behind the crumbling wall and quickly reloaded and at the same time, he reached over to Tavel and slapped his shoulder, and yelled into his ear, “Air support be here in five! Callsign Warrior on channel four!”

“Copy that!” Tavel replied without taking his attention away from the fight. His suppressed rifle popped mechanically as he serviced his targets. He only did a quick check of his wristwatch when he dropped behind the wall to reload and manually counted the time.

“Get them to kill those damn airships!” Tyrier added as he popped back up and added his firepower at the enemies. “Our shields are not gonna hold for much longer!”

“All stations, this is Warrior Flight, we have entered the AO.” The five minutes felt like an eternity to the defenders as finally the welcoming words were heard over the comms.

“Warrior, warrior, this is Claymore One,” Tavel quickly dropped behind the wall and used his radio. “Airships in the open! You are cleared hot! Over.”

“Roger Claymore One, weapons hot, standby!”

—–

The three A – 1 Warboas split their up formation, with one remaining on station while the other two dived downwards each aiming at their own target. The targets in question were easily spotted, both big, red and ugly, standing out like a sore thumb over the yellow brown terrain. The smoke and the flickering magical afterglows did not help in concealing the airships at all.

The twin chin gatlings of both attack craft burped for exactly three seconds, each firing at over 3,000 rounds per minute. In that three seconds, 300 rounds of what the armament ground crew joking called the ‘Send with Love Blend’ which consisted of a mix of armor piercing, incendiary and high explosive rounds, was spewed out by each attack craft.

The deadly mix of firepower rained down on both unsuspecting airships which did not even have their magical barriers up. The results were spectacular as metal and wood were exploded and turned into many many tiny pieces. And as if to add insult to the injury, both A – 1 Warboas, added in another barrage of ship killer rockets as they roared past the wounded airships.

The effects of the gun runs were like a display of firecrackers, except many times louder and deadlier. After which came the deep BRRRT of the twin 20 mm gatlings of the A – 1 Warboas. Steam and flames burst out from blown pipes and mangled decks. And before the Protectorate crews could respond, anti ship rockets slammed into their midsections and detonated deep inside the holds of the airships.

—–

“HAAAIL FIREPOWAAAR!” The goblins crackled with joy when they saw both airships being crippled by the airstrikes. “Where ya stinky God now?”

“Rush them!” A beefy goblin bearing a triple striped chevron on his sleeve yelled as he pointed his saw off shotgun at the group of Protectorate soldiers. The rest of the goblins whooped and hollered excitedly as they rushed headlong into the fight.

The Protectorate Paladins seeing the mass of goblins charging their way, let out sneers of disdain as their commander pointed to them and shouted, “Kill those unclean vermin!”

Shotgun blasts boomed out in close quarters, shedding magic barriers and flesh. Steam lances stabbed and jabbed back in retaliation as the nimble goblins weaseled around chaotically, some even leapt up into the faces of the Paladins, ripping their helmets off and digging in with claws and teeth into the fleshy parts.

The mad frenzy of the battle crazed goblins forced the Paladins back and the goblins quickly learnt how to exploit the weakness of the magical barriers of the Protectorate soldiers by leaping right onto the soldiers as their magical barriers only block projectiles and magic. Like monkeys, they giggled and jumped through the barriers and blasted their shotguns pointblank into the faces of the Paladins and mock chanted in their sing song voices, “BIM! BAM! BOOM! BIM! BAM! BOOM! ”

Behind them, elements of the UN 1st Army Rifle Regiment engaged with the rest of the Protectorate soldiers as the goblins tore into their flanks. On the other side, Dijon in his Power Armor (Cybernetic) stormed across the dusty terrain, his arm mounted 6.5 mm machine gun spewing red hot tracers, as he charged towards one of the two remaining War Jacks.

The Protectorate War Jack raised its tower shield up to block as its magical barrier started depleting. The other War Jack charged as it sought for a flanking position against the strange War Jack painted in a similar crimson red coat. Dijon sensing the enemy trying to flank him, came to a halt and he lowered his shoulders, bringing down his twin revolver cannons and with a thunderous boom, he fired at the defending War Jack, the force of the explosions knocking it off its feet.

Next, he spun around quickly, as quickly as a multi ton machine made of metal could move, his mounted MG tracking the thrown morning star flying in his direction. Red hot tracers beamed out, chasing the wrecking ball of destruction and catching it in mid air. Lead bullets shattered and bounced off the surface of the morning star until the amount of kinetic energy dumped upon it cracked its surface and the morning star broke in three pieces.

The Protectorate War Jack appeared surprised as it seemed to pause to stare at the remains of its weapon, of which remained a piece attached to the chain. Using the moment of confusion, a retractable mono blade shinged out from a integrated sheath inside the right arm of Dijon and he charged.

The Protectorate War Jack raised the remains of its morning star and attempted to block the ramming attack of Dijon. There was a shriek of metal against metal and the stubby claws of the Protectorate War Jack flew into the air and the mono blade continued unimpeded and buried all the way to Dijon’s fist.

He jerked and dug the blade upwards, slicing vital cog works and severing control cords. The War Jack spasm and jerked underneath Dijon for a moment before laying still. Dijon stood up and turned to the other War Jack that he knocked down. That War Jack had managed to climb back to his feet only to get hit by another two blasts of Dijon’s shoulder cannons.

It flopped back on its back, dazed as Dijon made his way next to it and finished it off by emptying the rest of the shells in his shoulder cannons. For a moment, he stood there unmoving, before he let out an electronic cry of rage and turned to face the remaining Protectorate soldiers still fighting.

The battle soon wind down as the Protectorate ground troops lost all support from their wrecked airships and War Jacks. They simply could not win against the superior firepower of the UN troops and very quickly the sounds of battle ceased. The commanders of the 101st ATI, 1st MSC and the 1st ARR soon gathered inside the ruined church with the exception of Dijon.

He had walked away without a word to the outskirts of the ruins after the battle and remained there unmoving ever since, with a small group of goblins fussing over his metal body. None of the commanders said anything about Dijon’s behaviour as they stood before the Princess. “Your Highness, once the goblins have assembled up the transports, we will depart from this area immediately.”

Princess Sherene nodded tiredly. She was glad to be done with this nightmare and have her child in safety. “I- Is B- Blake on his way here?”

“Yes, your Highness!” The CO of the 1st ARR replied. “His Excellency is still roughly a day of travel away. We will meet up with the His Excellency at another safer location.”

“G- Good…” Princess Sherene smiled with relief, the weight in her heart slowly dissolving away. “t- thank you all… for rescuing us…”

“Kekekeke, tis our jobs, Princess!” A skinny goblin wearing Army camouflage overalls, a set of resized body armour and a jockey cap giggled. “We here to Res-Kill! Rescue and kill things! Kekekeke!”

—–

Outside the ruined church, the goblins of the 1st MSC was busy dropping bags filled with parts onto the ground and dragging drop pods filled with machinery and wheels. Very quickly, the skeletal shape of a dune buggy appeared. Parachute fabric became lining for the simple seats and overhead cover while the rest of the buggy, made out of rods were exposed to the elements, only a few simple plates of metal served to protect the more vital electric engine and batteries.

The goblins worked quickly and in barely an hour, over a dozen buggies, each enough to ferry seven adults were almost completed. Tyrier watched the goblins cheerfully bolt another buggy together and shook his head, thinking that previous, they were still locked in a hard battle against these creatures. But now, here they were working on machines without a care in the world.

“Ten more mi nuts!” The goblin chief called out. Tyrier noticed that the goblins were even mounting weapons on the top of buggies. A completed buggy hummed its way up before the doors of the ruined church where Tyrier was standing and the goblin behind the wheel threw a lopsided salute and drawled, “The Princess’s personal ride is here!”

Tyrier nodded and he entered the church and reported to the seated Princess who had her child asleep on her lap. “My lady, we can depart now.”

Sherene nodded and she carefully held her sleeping son in her embrace and followed the soldier out where a barebones looking vehicle awaited. The sight of the makeshift like vehicle brought tears to her eyes as she suddenly recalled seeing something similar many years back when she was leading her people to safety and now, the almost exact scene appeared.

“My lady?” Tyrier frowned when he saw the tears and wondered if the Princess was unwell or something.

Sherene shook her head and with the help of Tyrier she climbed on board at the back where a simple bench heavily padded with rolls of parachute silk was prepared for her and her child. She gratefully sat down and the goblin helped buckle her up grinned and said, “Its ah bumpy ride!”

Soon the vehicle quickly filled up, with most of the Claymore One operatives on board and the rest on another vehicle, the impromptu convoy quickly rolled out of the ruins. Sherene watched as the ruins slowly disappear from view before a hulking crimson red War Jack catch her eye. She gasped in shock but quickly calmed down when she noticed the rest was not worried.

“W- What is that?” Sherene pointed to the rear. “Is that one… of ours?”

Tyrier looked back and realised she was pointing to Dijon and for a moment he wondered what to tell her. He knew Dijon felt responsible for having failed to protect the Princess and leading her to end up in the Protectorate’s hands. He could also guess the reason why Dijon did not appear before the Princess as well hence when she asked who or what was following them, he did not know what to answer.

“Eh… that is one of our latest… fighting golems!” Finally, Tyrier replied awkwardly. “We… converted some of their golems into our use.”

“I see,” Sherene nodded. “I… thought it was one of theirs…”

Tyrier let out a soft sigh as he stared at the PAC run behind them at a steady pace and said softly over the wind, “He can never be one of them…”