The sweeping savannas that singled out the towering windswept mountain of Yarnasa, was marred by huge smouldering battleships of a scouting force lost to rage.
And the scars of a single ships fall, and rise.
But now, two small plumes of smoke also rose from that stretching haven of light soft yellow as a single dot trailed it's grey fumes, as it rocketed towards the great city of Yarnada.
With jagged motions the ship jumped and rolled as it inched its way across the vast battlefield, skirting under the armies of the Great Ferolder, that entire force reeling together against a vast cloud of warships that descended on them from the sky.
In mumbled words, half eclipsed by pained breathing, and hard wheezing Lennard managed a phrase to his Commander.
"L. S. N. 10, 20, 30."
Through the roarkus orders on the other-end, Lennard could make out the voice of his commander.
"Lennard is hit. Status unconfirmed. Red leader, Teal Leader, you're weapons free on any and all. But for the creators sake be safe."
Lennard tried to shout his answers, but the splitting pain that lodged itself in his head, gave no allowance.
"Yell... yellow... here."
The desperate madness on the other end of the ID-Comlink confirmed the growing suspicions of his squad.
"GOLD LEADER?"
Lennards heart skipped a beat,
"Hit? That quickly?"
His heart broke. Once again, as he swerved the jet across the stretching plains, beginning to angle up to the fleeing civilian ships. He tried again.
"Yellow... yell... ow... report... reporting in!" He finally threw.
Red's voice broke the madness.
"Those sons of the Zor are getting their 10's torn today. We're gonna give those gallkrats a taste of real steel."
Lennard, in the mist of his pained mind sighed at Red's rage. Saying in a whisper.
"...Red... creators sake man..."
Teal.
"For Yellow Gold Leader!"
Unanimously.
"FOR YELLOW GOLD!"
"...dear creator..." Lennard reeled.
The commanders shaken, yet calm tone evened out the comms.
"Your shield-targs are the civilian vessels. All other objectives, personal or otherwise, are null void people."
There were mumbles.
"Yes commander. Emel."
Lennard pulled the jet back once more, the shadow of Yarnada giving him brief sight.
He soared up, just clipping the sides of the mighty mountain as grey rocks and thick green trees passed him in a blurred daze.
He fixed his eyes on those distant vessels, and threw his full force into his sticks.
The thunderous roar of his craft's engines awakening. Raw power propelling that jet upwards at a voracious rate as it climbed the stretching scale of that edifice to a once safe world.
He saw the black plumes that rose over the horizon of the mountain.
From his angel, he could only hope the city was...
Through the haze of his mind, he heard the coms crackle.
"Where's Emerald leader?"
Lennard had not even spared a thought to Emerald's approach.
He had hoped Emerald had heard the warning.
But now...
Now.
Another brother lost perhaps...
He desperatly tryed to eye his radar.
His Magdar.
His view.
His hearing.
In one final desperate yelp, he pushed his voice with all he could:
"Yellow... leader... hello?!"
The commander picked that up.
"What? Broken audio on coms there." Then to someone distant. "Where's that coming from?"
Some indistinguishable mumble morphed into a cry of terror.
"RADIO SILENCE. YELLOW LEADER REPORT."
A faint smile dawned on Lennards face. Hope.
He shook his head, breathed as well as he could though the battered helmet, and tryed again.
"Yell... yellow. Leader."
The resounding celebration on the other end was staggering.
"BOSS MAN!"
Squashed as it began.
"QUIET!... Yellow leader, for the creators sake, your audio is sparse, recalibrate. We cant boost you any more from this end."
Lennard brought a hand to his helmet, across the left side. Stinging pain stabbing at the slight pressure.
The horizon of the mountain approaching.
He found it. A small knob near the chin.
Rotating it, he began to hum a soft tune. A tune of home.
"Hush my darling... dont you... cry."
his eyes just flicking upwards, caught the immeasurable forces of the Last Stand Navy as they... engaged?
The two fleets were directing themselves in a way tantamount to aggression.
Who was the bad guy here?
"...daddy... will sing... you a lullaby..."
"Lennard I'm starting to hear you reliably clearly. Is your oxygen fine?"
Lennard eyed down to an array of bars and coloured numbers that expressed the jets's ability to support life.
Oxygen was fine.
"No. Com... I took. A nasty concussion..."
The rumblings on the other side expressed worry, and fear. The incoherent comments by distant officers.
"Red. Teal. ETA?"
Red: "Arrival time in 5 minutes boss man."
Teal: "Confirming, savannas of Irana in sight."
"Lennard can you pull back?"
"No. Sir."
Silence fell like night.
Lennards hard breathing the only substitute for the commanders words.
"...Your close to the civilians yes?"
"Yes."
"Give them their eye."
"10. 20. 30. sir." Lennard replied in ernest conviction.
From somewhere in the static distance. A voice echoed.
The commander returned;
"Elon tells me it's been 10 hours since the attack. 18 minutes and 42 seconds.
Nearly."
Red chimed in: "Then we go all out on these soul breakers?"
"By protocol. Yes Red."
YOU ARE READING
World In Turmoil
Science FictionAmongst the empires of the galaxy. Between the factions and the territories. On a rustic world left to itself. A young man had heros once... They were a force sworn to protect. They were a navy of saviours. In a time of need. ...
