“Bring us around in a standard low orbit and get some spy drones redeployed so we have worldwide coverage,” Absen ordered, lounging comfortably in his crash chair at the flag station. “Looks like they’ve all committed to their descents.” He felt much better now that the cocktail the doctor had given him had taken hold. VR syndrome was no joke, especially for EarthFleet’s commander in chief. He felt embarrassed, but was pretty sure he hadn’t completely lost it.
Not for the first time did he feel surprised at how much biology influenced behavior.
“Are we going down after them?” Scoggins asked.
“Not a chance,” Absen replied. “We can’t spare the fuel, especially our fighters. A tanker is coming from Mars and three from Jupiter, but we are on our own for a while. No, we’ll just roll over and strafe them from orbit as we pass.”
“Aye aye, sir. Okuda, make it so.”
“Setting course for low Earth orbit with maximum coverage of Asia and Europe,” the helmsman reported.
Thirty minutes later, the squadron crested the horizon and swung over the enemy landing zones. “’You may fire when ready, Gridley,’” Absen misquoted. “Pass the same to the fleet. Priority targets are their fighters, and watch for them shooting back. With this kind of space supremacy there’s absolutely no reason to lose even one of our StormCrows. In fact, open the launch bay and tell the manned Crows to start rotating in as fast as they can for refit to automate them.”
Once his orders were passed, Absen stood and strolled over to the holotank. Conquest floated over old Europe on a roughly west-east track, providing maximum hang time above the atmosphere as they raced the globe beneath them.
All of the small towns along the coasts had been evacuated. The tsunamis the Destroyer impacts caused fifty years ago had wiped away the large coastal cities, and the surviving concentrations of population were well inland and in the mountains. London, Hamburg and Naples had been destroyed back then, leaving mountain cities such as Milan and Vienna to prosper. Those had formed the nucleus of the Blend oligarchy’s city-states, and now they became urban fortresses.
The Scourges landed in swirls and waves, more or less evenly across Europe and Asia. “Not much combat going on,” Scoggins remarked. “Just some ground fire where they touched down within cities. Those beachheads have been wiped out.”
“Yes, and the ones that landed in the surrounding zones died to the mines. That attracted a few more from nearby but generally, as long as the enemy isn’t being shot at, they’re just eating stuff, not turning to attack our defenses.” Ford said excitedly. “Sir, how did you know?”
Absen turned to lean against the railing. “I know because I really do read Fleede’s briefings, Commander. When given a choice between fighting and eating, Scourgelings eat. They only attack things that attack them or smell like food. In fact, if they didn’t see something to eat – like people – they often just walk right by, unless Soldiers drive them to attack. So as much as possible, our forces in the cities are sealing themselves in. If they can’t, they wipe out the local Scourge incursion and then retreat so no more are attracted.”
Weapons fired from the fleet, depicted by lines reaching down toward the clouds of Scourge fighters that still buzzed above the ground, picking them off. In response, many rose to attack, but their small beam weapons couldn’t hurt Conquest, and even the few StormCrows that were hit only suffered repairable damage. The atmosphere sucked all the range out of the enemy’s weapons.
“Concentrate on those coming up after us,” Scoggins ordered, and soon the targets were either dead or left behind, limited by air resistance to mere supersonic speeds while Conquest and her flock cruised along at orbital velocities exceeding 27,000 kilometers per hour.
“You see,” Absen said smugly, “without orders, they just react to local threats, by whatever groupings they use. Perhaps all the critters from one mothership swarm stick together. Anyway, we shoot at them and they turn to attack.”
“There’s no way they can catch us, so we can attrit the fighters and gunships this way, but what about the landing forces?” Rick Johnstone asked. “There’s what, eight hundred million of them on the ground now? That’s more than the population of Earth!”
“Sounds like the fight is even, then, eh?” Absen said. “But no, I don’t intend to fight fair. Crops and forests can be replanted; farms and houses can be rebuilt. The people on the ground will wait and save their strength for a couple of days. Let the enemy have the countryside.” Absen waved airily. “Let the Scourgelings eat. For now, what we have to do is find and kill the nests.”