The engines stilled as they shifted gears, and then picked up their old pace, and suddenly the packed dirt of the aerodrome swung by under them. The .30 caliber heavy Gatling guns opened up with hammer blows of sound, their silver tracers arcing out over the field, cutting through the overturned wagons and barriers that protected the sources of the gun flashes in the distance.
The dawn lit the tops of the airships orange and grey, their undersides still deep hydrogen blue strobing white as their guns rattled. They touched down hard, the springs in the tank wheels cushioning the impact, sliding forward across the dirt until the docking clamps released and the airships, one by one shot back up into the sky with ear popping speed, their guns still blazing away at the remaining targets too foolish not to run. Then the rumble of their own tank's motor took over, blocking out everything else, and they rolled forward opening up with the hammer beat of their own guns.
The 3rd Company, 65th regiment of the US Army Heavy Air Cavalry had arrived.
YOU ARE READING
The Rose of the West
AventuraIn an America that might have been, two war orphans from a divided nation, one in the north and one in the south, meet across a vast battlefield, striking out to forge a future together in the west. It's 1892, the fourth and bloodiest year of the Ci...
