Project Gaia : The arrival of humanity

Chapter 11 : Massacre

"The human failing I would most like to correct is aggression."

-Stephen Hawking

================================

Gaia, "New Hin'd", Chheda Nagar Forest Airspace, June 13th, 2038.

The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the Blackhawk's rotors sliced through the air as it cruised over the dense canopy of White Tail Woods. The helicopter flew in formation with two others, their dark, metallic frames starkly contrasting against the blue sky and the endless green canopy below

Inside the cockpit, Thomas Hopkins gripped the controls, his eyes scanning the tree line below for any signs of movement. Beside him, his co-pilot Toby Kennedy, a young and eager pilot who was still getting used to the strange feeling of flying over an alien landscape, kept an eye on the instrument panel.

"Got anything, Toby?" Hopkins asked, his voice calm but with an edge of anticipation.

"Nothing on thermal, sir. Just trees, more trees... and, well, endless forest," Toby replied, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "You'd think for a world supposedly teeming with life, we'd see a little more activity."

Hopkins let out a dry chuckle. "Consider yourself lucky. I've heard rumors from the ground teams. Something hit that cement plant hard. Don't know if it's wildlife or... something else. Could be worse than just trees, kid."

Suddenly, the radio crackled to life with a sharp burst of static. "Blackhawk One, this is Eagle Eye. We have unidentified airborne contacts approaching from the east at high speed. Twelve signatures-possibly hostile. Be advised, they appear to be equine in shape."

Hopkins's brow furrowed as he glanced at Toby. "Equine? Did I hear that right?"

Toby's eyes widened as he spotted something ahead. "Uh, sir... you're gonna want to see this."

Out of the horizon, a squadron of pegasi was rapidly closing the distance. Twelve armored ponies flew in perfect formation, their wings beating furiously against the wind as they carried spears and bows. The sight was like something out of a medieval fantasy come to life-only this was no storybook tale.

Hopkins's pulse quickened as he reached for the radio. "Eagle Eye, this is Blackhawk One. We have a visual on the contacts-definitely Pegasus in appirence. I repeat, winged horses carrying weapons. What's our ROE?" (Rules of Engagement)

"Blackhawk One, maintain course. Do not engage unless fired upon," came the terse reply. "But stay on your guard."

"Roger that," Hopkins said, his gaze locking on the incoming squadron. "Toby, switch the systems to active targeting just in case. We need to be ready."

"Copy, sir," Toby replied, his fingers moving quickly over the controls, priming the Blackhawk's defensive systems. "Systems are hot, but weapons are in safe mode."

The pegasi drew closer, and Hopkins could see their determined expressions. They were not just scouting-they were heading straight for the helicopters with a look of fierce resolve in their eyes.

"Here they come," Toby muttered, his voice tense. "Looks like they're not backing down."

The lead pegasus, a burly stallion with a dark blue coat and a silver mane, angled his wings and dove toward them, his spear aimed directly at the cockpit. Hopkins's instincts screamed danger, and he pulled the Blackhawk up into a sharp climb to avoid the impact. The rotor blades roared as the helicopter banked hard, barely dodging the charging stallion.