Chapter 161: MQ-9 Reaper Part 2

“Center the crosshairs,” Miller ordered, leaning forward until his chest almost touched the edge of the control console. “Keep the camera locked. Let’s see what we’re looking at.”

“Tracking in auto-track mode,” Kowalski said. The white box on the screen snapped to the lead figure, smoothly following their steps across the muddy river gravel. “Optics are pegged at ninety-percent zoom. Switching back to day-TV for color identification.”

The screen shifted from grainy thermal back to sharp, full-color daylight imagery.

Down in the basin, the two figures stopped near the edge of the dark water.

They weren’t wearing the simple wool tunics or rough furs of local mountain hunters. Even from twenty-two thousand feet in the air, the bright red-and-gold trim on their cloaks stood out against the dark rocks.

“Look at the chest armor,” Kowalski pointed with his stylus. “That’s the imperial crest. That’s a Solarian soldier.”

“Confirming uniform match,” Miller said, cross-referencing the image with the imperial intelligence database pulled up on his secondary monitor.

“Looks like they’re inspecting a staging depot,” Kowalski replied, sliding the camera slowly along the edge of the tree line. “I’ve got more movement. Three more hostiles emerging from the large marquee tent. One of them is wearing dark purple robes… looks like an academy battle mage. He’s got an ivory staff tipped with a blue crystal.”

“Count the total personnel in the clearing,” Miller instructed.

“I’ve got twelve… no, fourteen armed hostiles in the open,” Kowalski counted calmly. “There’s another half-dozen moving crates between the tents. Those crates are stamped with the imperial treasury seal. Looks like an advanced forward command and logistics node.”

“Think the VIP is inside?” Miller asked.

Kowalski kept the crosshairs pinned on the largest tent. “Negative on a positive ID for Viona herself. No signs of that glowing golden aura Rin described. But this is definitely her forward element. You don’t park troops in the middle of a swamp unless you’re setting up a front-line headquarters.”

Miller reached for his radio switch, opening the satellite relay channel directly to the tactical operations center at the palace.

“TOC, this is Reaper One-One on satellite link three,” Miller transmitted in a calm, clipped voice. “We have eyes on an active enemy staging base in sector Bravo-Four, northwest edge of the Ironwood Basin. Grid coordinates: November-Victor four-four-seven, eight-one-two. Fourteen confirmed hostiles in the open. Requesting permission to prosecute target with onboard ordnance.”

Static crackled over the line for ten seconds.

Back in the palace library, intelligence officers were looking at the live feed forwarded straight from Kowalski’s terminal.

Then, Richter’s voice came over the speaker.

“Reaper One-One, this is TOC. Target is confirmed hostile. You are cleared hot on the forward command element. Weapons free, execute.”

“Reaper One-One copies, cleared hot,” Miller acknowledged.

He flipped the red master arm switch on the left side of his console. On his flight display, the weapons status indicator changed from green SAFE to amber ARMED.

“Gimbal, arm weapon station three,” Miller ordered. “AGM-114 Hellfire.”

“Station three is armed,” Kowalski responded, his voice dropping into complete professional focus. “Laser seeker is cooling. Target designation set to primary tent cluster. Coordinates sent to missile guidance.”

“Laser on,” Miller commanded.

“Laser is firing,” Kowalski said, pressing the designator trigger.

A high-powered, invisible infrared beam lanced down from the pod beneath the Reaper’s nose, painting an invisible dot of light right in the center of the imperial officers’ gathering.

“Laser is hot,” Kowalski confirmed. “In the basket. Range is five point two miles slant.”

“Three, two, one… rifle,” Miller said, squeezing the red trigger on his stick.

A slight shudder ran through the drone’s composite airframe as the heavy rail released.

Under the right wing, a bright flash of white rocket smoke bloomed. The AGM-114 Hellfire missile dropped from its pylon, ignited its solid-fuel rocket motor, and streaked downward toward the cloud deck at Mach 1.3.

Inside the trailer, the two operators watched the countdown timer ticking down in the lower corner of the monitor.

Time of flight: twelve seconds.

Nine.

Six.

Down in the forest clearing, the imperial officers had no idea death was falling from the clouds. The sound of the rocket motor was completely masked by the high altitude and the wind roaring through the ironwood branches. One of the soldiers was leaning against his horse, laughing at something his comrade had said.

Three.

Two.

Impact.

BOOM!

A blinding white flash completely consumed the center monitor.

The Hellfire’s shaped-charge warhead detonated dead-center among the cluster of imperial tents. A violent shockwave tore outward, ripping the heavy canvas shelters into burning rags and obliterating the supply crates into thousands of splinters.

“Direct hit, shack,” Kowalski announced, adjusting the contrast to cut through the swirling gray smoke. “Primary target is destroyed. Total destruction on the command tent. No movement detected in the blast crater.”

“Good hit,” Miller said, glancing at the fuel readout. “TOC, Reaper One-One confirms target eliminated. All primary hostiles neutralized. We are at bingo fuel, RTB Port Solis.”

“TOC copies, One-One. Good hunting. Bring her home.”

Miller switched the master arm back to safe and turned the flight stick to begin a wide banking turn back toward the western coast.

“Alright,” Miller said, letting out a long breath. “Set flight path for home plate. Let’s get—”

“Mark, look at the screen!” Kowalski suddenly yelled, his voice cracking with urgent alarm.

Miller snapped his eyes back to the sensor monitor.

At the edge of the smoking blast crater, the shadows beneath the shattered trees were warping.

The thick, lingering black smoke was suddenly being pulled backward, drawn into a violent, swirling vortex.

Standing in the center of that vortex was a single, slender woman.

She wore a long, flowing white gown that seemed entirely untouched by the dirt or fire. Her right hand was raised toward the sky, and around her body swirled a blinding, radiant aura of pure, incandescent golden light.

“It’s Viona!” Kowalski shouted, his fingers scrambling across the keyboard. “Target is alive! She wasn’t in the tent—she was in the treeline!”

“Climb, climb, get us out of here!” Miller barked, pulling hard back on the flight stick and shoving the throttle to max forward. “Full power, emergency climb!”

On the screen, Viona looked straight up.

It was impossible. The Reaper was four miles high, a tiny speck against the vast blue sky. Yet, her glowing eyes locked directly onto the camera lens, as if staring straight through twenty thousand feet of empty air and into the eyes of the two men sitting inside the trailer.

Her lips curved into a cold, terrifying snarl.

She raised her left hand, pointing two slender fingers directly at the clouds.

“I’ve got a massive energy spike!” Kowalski yelled, the audio alarms in the trailer suddenly squealing with loud, frantic beeps. “Sensor overload! The whole spectrum is whiting out! She’s casting something!”

Down below, three massive, jagged spears of crystalline blue-and-gold light formed around Viona’s hands. The light was so bright it washed out the camera’s optical sensors, turning the center monitor into a sheet of pure static.

With a flick of her wrist, the three spears launched.

They tore through the sky with terrifying, unnatural speed, leaving sonic booms that rippled the clouds below. In less than two seconds, the glowing projectiles cleared three miles of vertical airspace.

“Missile inbound! Break left, break left!” Kowalski screamed.

“I’m breaking!” Miller pulled the stick hard to the stops.

It didn’t matter.

The composite airframe of the MQ-9 Reaper, designed for quiet surveillance and counter-insurgency patrols, was never built to evade high-velocity guided magic.

CRACK!

The first golden spear clipped the Reaper’s left wing, shearing the carbon-fiber structure completely off at the root.

The second spear struck the main fuselage, punching straight through the avionics bay, shattering the fuel tank, and tearing through the rear engine.

Inside the trailer at Port Solis, the screens instantly flashed red.

Then, all four monitors went dead black.

“Bird is down,” Kowalski whispered, his voice trembling. “She swatted us out of the sky at twenty thousand feet like a bug.”

Miller stared at the blank screens, his jaw set hard as he reached for the operations phone.

“TOC,” Miller said, his voice flat, shaken, and deadly serious. “Reaper One-One is splashed. Viona has surface-to-air capability. I repeat… the goddess just took out our drone.”