novelnext [363] 4.84 The Second American Civil War II
[363] 4.84 The Second American Civil War II
“Chloe, my love, let me just say thank you once again for bringing up the important matter of ear plugs. Heightened [Vitality] or not, without them, this would have been four hours of absolute hell listening to these damn jet engines. As it is, it’s still only barely tolerable.”“Well, I’m glad I was paying attention to the part in health class where we learned that even short term exposure to the sound intensity of a jet engine can cause long term, potentially irreversible hearing loss.” She grins. “Of course, it’s probably not actually irreversible thanks to [Restoration], but it’d still hurt like hell, just like you said.”
“Okay, but this actually isn’t so bad being out here like this.”
“Seraphina Mortensen. It’s ten below, the winds are whipping at five hundred miles an hour, we’re flying to our doom, and–” Chloe only doesn’t sigh because it’s a really bad idea to open our mouths at this speed. “Okay, actually, it is pretty romantic. It’s like the one scene in Titanic except on the body of a plane instead of the bow of a ship.”
“You know, I’ve never actually seen that movie?”
“Huh. Well, I guess I know what we’re going to do when we get back home.”
“You think we’re going to win? Thinking about victory celebrations before a battle is usually considered a death flag, isn’t it? I mean, at least in stories.”
“What, is the big bad [Defier of Fates] scared that she can’t defy even a little death flag?”
“Just because I give my praise to the goddesses doesn’t mean I don’t maintain a healthy respect for Murphy. Seems like he’s been really in his element ever since the System arrived.”
“Well, it is a beautiful night.”
And it is. At half past eight, taking into account the hour of time change, just a sliver of the lingering dusk remains on the horizon at our back. The air up here is thin, not enough to fight anywhere near our full abilities, but incredibly crisp. More than that, with hardly any light pollution coming up from the surface, and with far less atmosphere to distort the view, the stars are absolutely gorgeous. Over a hundred and eighty degrees of constellations, with more and more stars peeking out as the end of twilight gives rise to the start of true night.
No signs of any interference from our enemies just yet, and Nicholas didn’t expect they’d attack so soon. But it’s coming. I can feel it. There’s simply too much tension, and I can’t imagine the Legion’s soldiers are just going to lay out the red carpet unless they’re so confident of their victory that they want us all to be around to bear witness to it.
My heart rate quickens. I really, really hope that’s not the case.
It sucks not knowing what’s going on. I know that’s by design, to make sure that I don’t try and interfere or throw a fit over someone or something and… No, Seraphina, not the time to be giving in to your wandering mind and its wild imagination. I could really use some deep breaths right now.
Chloe squeezes my hand as if on cue. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you? After earlier?”
“Always. But that’s why I’m trying to have some lighter conversation. Being focused on our anxiety isn’t going to do us any good, now is it?”
“Is that something that you learned from your counselor?” I ask.
“Yeah. I try to distract myself whenever I get into these… What do you call them? Existential moods? Usually it’s with thoughts of you… us… activities behind closed doors. I hardly think it’s appropriate to think or act upon such things right now.”
“Well, there’s always the opportunity to finally join the mile-high club.”
“Hah!” Chloe starts to giggle, then clamps her mouth shut at the gust of cold air forcing its way down her throat. “I… I think Nicholas would have some choice words of his own if we did that right here and now.”
“Speaking of people who have choice and unfriendly words about us, where do you think Clara scurried off to?”
“I know she’s aware and involved with whatever’s going on here. So if she’s not coming along, she’s hunkered down somewhere doing mission control.”
“She doesn’t seem like the ‘mission control’ sort of person. Then again, with her Skills, she is probably better suited for it. Same with Nicholas, actually. Guess it’s little wonder the two of them have some good rapport.”
Speaking of the Major, just as we finish exchanging those words, a new connection pokes at my mind. I sense that he maybe could pierce through my mental resistances and use his Skill as some sort of psychic attack, but is respecting my autonomy by first giving the equivalent of a polite knock on the mind’s door. I reach out and accept the connection.
“Miss Mortensen, do you hear me? Over.”
“Loud and clear, Ni–”
“‘Major Richardson’, please. At least for the duration of this operation. I know that I don’t command you or Miss Jacobs, but I am acting as an officer of the United States Army and it would be bad for troop discipline if I’m not addressed as such.”
Always with the hard bargains. For most people, I wouldn’t give two shits about authority or position, but the two of us do have an amicable working relationship. And while I still don’t like his philosophy on power, there’s no doubt that he has been willing to work with Chloe and me on a respectful basis. Considering the potential tangible benefit as well re: troop discipline, and I decide to acquiesce.
“Very well, Major Richardson. Over.”
He pauses for a moment. “Thank you, Miss Mortensen. Regarding the task at hand, radar is detecting a fighter plane moving in toward our position at Mach 2.7. We don’t currently know if the object is friend or foe, so be prepared to engage. Lethal force is authorized if necessary.”
As if I care about authorization, although I do wonder… “What’s the direction from which the fighter is approaching?”
“From… Slightly north of due west, Miss Mortensen,” he says. “Why?”
“There’s a chance the individual in question is Chloe’s father.”
I turn around to look, careful not to get knocked off the plane from the forces involved. Sure enough, at much higher altitude and toward the western horizon, there’s a tiny dot of light heading toward us at supersonic speeds. Chloe, at my signal, raises an orb of light into the air above her, causing the fighter jet to lock onto our position, slow down to subsonic flight, and descend toward our altitude. All of those are good indicators that our assumptions were correct; if the plane were hostile, it wouldn’t be approaching in such a controlled manner.
“Henry Jacobs?” A single second passes; it might as well be an eternity for as fast as I know Nicholas’ mind processes information. “Are you confident in his loyalties?”
“I cannot speak for his loyalties in your conflict, but I know with certainty that he will take Chloe’s and my side in any confrontation.”
“Right. Something to do with that Project Seraphina that Agent Bennett has been investigating. Although she didn’t give me the details.”
“There’s still a lot of things I’m not ready to talk about, but what I can say is that Renault and Hank both knew about the System twenty-two years before it actually arrived on Earth, and that it’s tied to both me and the other Seraphina that has been spotted with Renault and the Legion.”
“Again, are you certain of Mr Jacobs’ loyalties? We already hang on a knife’s edge in even my best case simulations of tomorrow’s battle. The last thing I need is more variables to complicate matters.”
“As I said, he is prepared to do whatever it takes to keep the two of us safe, even at the cost of his life. In fact, we both suspect he plans to make some stupid heroic sacrifice or another to ‘repent’ or whatever shit. We could use some help in not letting him do so.”
“I will take your request under consideration, but please understand that the mission comes first and foremost.”
“Very well,” I say, realizing that that’s probably the best I’ll be able to get out of him.
Right as I convey that message, Hank’s plane rapidly comes into view. The cockpit light glows just enough that, together with the waxing quarter moon, I can make out the familiar face of my girlfriend’s father. I offer him a wave, and he offers a small nod of the head as he drops into formation behind our plane and the others convoying with us.
“It’s him,” I say to Nicholas. “I have visual confirmation.”
“I’ll open a line with him. Hold on just a second.”
I turn to Hank’s plane and give him a nod. A hint of static builds in the [Mental Link] that Nicholas has established between himself and Chloe and I, and then a new presence enters the mind-meld.
“Sera? Is that you?” Hank asks.
“I can hear you loud and clear,” I say. “But the connection is actually being facilitated by Major Nicholas Richardson from within the plane. He can hear everything we’re saying.”
“Mr. Henry Jacobs,” Nicholas chimes in. “I’ve been chasing your shadows for weeks, and now here you finally are.”
“By design, Sir. Changing the subject, is there a reason why my daughters are currently flying on top of the plane rather than inside?”
“Because we volunteered to do so, to serve as a barrier squad against any attacks against us.”
“Speaking of, it looks like we have more company. Five fighters approaching from the north.”
“Understood. Please drop speed to two hundred miles per hour, lower altitude to fifteen thousand feet, and and close formation.”
“Acknowledged, Miss Mortensen. I’ll keep the line open but withdraw for now. Call for me if you need anything.”
The plane cuts thrust and Chloe and I struggle to keep ourselves from being flung forward from the shift in momentum. Once we slow down to about two hundred and fifty miles per hour, Chloe sprouts her golden wings and the two of us begin flying under our own power, still watching the five incoming jets and waiting for them to give some sort of signal or identification.
Once they don’t, getting within about twelve miles, Chloe breaks formation, hovering toward the incoming bogeys while I stay behind to play defense. A few more seconds pass. Still nothing.
“Any response, Major Richardson?”
“None. Miss Jacobs, you may fire when ready.”
“One warning shot,” Chloe says. She takes a deep breath. A single [Scouring Light] shoots out at blinding speed, aiming just off the right wing of the centermost plane.
She shakes her head when the fighters continue their approach. “Very well. If they will not accept my mercy, then they shall face my judgement instead.”
Both her hands glow with white-hot intensity and colossal amounts of [Ether] gather in her palms. The front plane gets closer and closer, and multiple missiles— the first volley in a civil war going hot— are launched directly toward us.
I float off the plane now as well, gathering my own energy and preparing to defend. With four thousand points of [Ether] behind my spell and taking full advantage of [Scalability], I combine it with [Repulsion] and [Expansion] to create a wide-area barrier to intercept the projectile barrage.
One missile hits my defenses and I’m forced to expend even more [Ether] to maintain the barrier integrity; the damn weapons hit like, well, supersonic missiles, and the explosions are once again making me really happy that I brought proper ear protection. Most importantly, though, after expending nearly half of my maximum [Ether], I’ve completely repelled the blasts without any of our planes being rendered inoperable.
Which is more than I can say for the other side of the fight. Chloe’s [Celestial Fire] manifests, building up searing heat so intense that I can feel it even from a mile away. The approaching planes unfortunately have shields of their own, and they do resist Chloe’s assault upon them for a time.
But it proves to be a very short time indeed, for within three seconds, the aluminum-composite body begins to melt despite the heat shielding. From then, the glyphs being used to keep the plane aloft and all of the mechanisms functioning begin to distort, their durability is worn through, and the entire fighter undergoes a series of cascading failures. The poor pilot doesn’t even have a chance to eject before his vehicle is reduced to a hunk of slag and then vaporized into a powder of microscopic aluminum crystals.
One down, four to go.