Blow Them Up

"The 'Swifts' formation is 3.2 miles from Megaton, with an estimated arrival time of 30 seconds."

Captain Eric Snabb, piloting his CF/A-17G Wraith, descended from 7,000 feet like a nimble falcon, soaring over a vast expanse of hazy stratocumulus clouds. As the numbers on the radar altimeter ticked away, the eastern continent of Agria stretched out like a green ocean, its vast inland swamp forests composed of ferns, trees, shrubs, and herbs.

A winding road stretched out over the city of Megaton outside the cockpit canopy, like a gray ribbon. Even though it wasn't the first time Captain Eric had seen the magnificent view of Agria from the air, he couldn't help but marvel.

The last time Eric had seen such a beautiful planet was in faraway Haven.

Agria is a precious gift bestowed upon humankind by the stingy Milky Way; its unique natural conditions have created a paradise on earth with favorable weather and abundant harvests. Those living on barren lands should envy the people of Agria, for they were born in the cradle of nature.

"All Swifts, check heading settings 3-0-0, altitude 2992. Low-altitude approach, search for ground targets." Eric felt his Wraith approaching their prey like a powerful kestrel, the sky being left far behind. Eric's wingman was nearby, and these steel wings moving in formation were equally imposing.

Those were two Terran Empire standard Wraith with beautiful gold and red paint schemes, which were, of course, flawless in the eyes of the pilots. In fact, the Wraith had been the Revolutionary Army's best stealth fighters, and they still were.

Each Wraith may have a different lineage, originating from different planets and starports, but the modular casting process ensures that they maintain a consistent aesthetic.

The radar scan showed the positions of the other aircraft in the Swift Squadron, followed by over 400 Grizzly Bomber and Banshee bombers. The unstoppable kings of the air were rapidly approaching the city of Megaton shrouded in forest mist.

The Terran Empire is no longer the Revolutionary Army that had to rely on transport ships to modify bombers. The new Banshee is a new generation of stealth bombers and is undoubtedly the king of the battlefield.

However, even so, the Wraith was not outdated at this time, after all, it had only been around for a few years. The new optical tracker and stealth module gave the Wraith a ghostly stealth and an eagle-like sharpness, making Wraith old anti-aircraft guns as laughable as a child with a slingshot.

"Swift No. 3 received."

"Swift 4 received."

Everything is normal.

On the head-up display, the beautiful Megaton became clearer and clearer. Two months ago, Eric didn't even know how to spell the word, but now he could recite it from memory.

Megaton, the second largest immigrant city in the Agria immigrant settlement, had a population exceeding one million twenty years ago and is the largest industrial and port freight center on the planet. This prosperity is unimaginable in the Edge World. In the past, many of Eric's comrades had been treated at the military sanatorium in Megaton, where the beautiful scenery was a good medicine to heal the wounds in people's hearts.

That's all in the past.

Eric silently thought to himself: That's all in the past.

Today, Megaton has become a nightmare to be avoided, with thousands of high-rise buildings collapsing into ruins, and countless moments of prosperity and glory vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Humans spent many years building Megaton as it is today, a feat that involved two generations of time and effort, while the Swarm destroyed it in just two days.

Whether it's a paradise like Agria or a desolate red desert like Antiga, to the Zerg, there's no difference. That's why Eric fights for them; there's no reasoning with these monsters. Truth only exists within their range. Trying to reason with Zerg is like trying to kill them.

"Inspect weapons, prepare for battle. The airspace above Megaton is a free combat zone. Open fire on all unidentified ground and air units." The command came through Eric's communication channel.

He immediately replied, "Onward, headquarters."

The Swift Squadron and the other two Wraith Squadrons were tasked with escorting bomber formations; in other words, they were acting as babysitters.

In past wars against the Zerg, humanity has struggled to gain air superiority. A key issue is that the Zerg also possess their own "fighter jets" and bombers, and in greater numbers and superior quality than humans. Like making popcorn, a tiny number of Zerg eggs can hatch dozens of Mutalisk and Scourge, which then mutate further into even more terrifying flying monsters.

Every human pilot who takes off in the Zerg Wars must be prepared to die a heroic death, compared to which the task of driving out pirates in the Edge World is nothing more than a leisurely stroll in one's own garden.

Without air superiority, superior firepower coverage is out of the question. However, the Griffin Swarm is very special; they tend to use infected humans and other organisms as weapons, and they do not have the massive air power of the Swarm Leviathan Jormungand Brood. This means that the Griffin Swarm will have a hard time gaining air superiority.

Eric only encountered some Overlord in Agria, and his comrades referred to dealing with these flying creatures with giant air sacs as "popping balloons."

Each Cerebrate has a different personality and inclinations, which are naturally inherited by their clan. Their advantages are obviously amplified, but that doesn't mean the Cerebrate are unaware of their clan's weaknesses.

However, the pressure on human air forces is much less when fighting the Griffin race.

"Ground troops spotted below, west of Highway 5," a Wraith pilot reported over the channel.

"Friendly forces, repeat, friendly forces. It's the 45th Marine Brigade."

"Damn it, for God's sake, don't jump around like that, you bitch." Another pilot muttered, "I almost dropped something."

"I'll tie you to your seat, you coward, or you'll just spring out of there yourself," someone retorted.

"You're even more important to me than my mom."

They were both members of the Swift Squadron and Eric's two wingmen. Flight terminology had to be precise enough, but pilots who were startled by their teammates were not forbidden from swearing.

Like all the elite fighter squadrons of the Terran Empire, the Swift Squadron consisted entirely of experienced veterans, with no unlucky rookies.

In the past, the Swift Squadron belonged to the Korhal Revolutionary Army. Eric remembered that when he first joined the Revolutionary Army, there were only four Wraith in the hangar of the Hyperion, and the ammunition weighed less than a few pounds per person on average.

Expanding the hangar would require buying, borrowing, or even stealing. As for pilots, the Revolutionary Army had no shortage of them. In some worlds where spacecraft were already common, even wealthy young men knew how to fly planes.

Now, Swifts are a registered squadron of the Terran Empire Air Force, and the former rebels have transformed into government troops. Good days seem to be coming. If Eric and his comrades perform well, they might become renowned flying heroes throughout the Empire.

Eric had dreamt of this more than once: being awarded a hero's medal by Emperor Augustus himself at the Silver Tower of Korhal. After defeating the Protoss and the Zerg, achieving fame and glory, Eric could return home and get married.

I've heard that many nobles in Tarsonis have fallen on hard times, and many noble ladies and viscountesses have given themselves to imperial officers.

This era belongs to the Terran Empire; former revolutionaries have become the current rulers.

"Unidentified flying objects detected! Two Avenger Spitfire fighter jets, speeding at 400 knots, are heading towards us!"

"I'm locked down!"

"Shoot them down!" Eric ordered.

"The one in front is mine, the rest are yours to divide. Don't let the Ireno squadron take them."

The motto of the Swift Squadron is: No matter what, I must shoot one down.

Even though he had only been with the Revolutionary Army for two years, Eric was already a veteran, having flown 57 missions in Agria alone. Eric might not be the best Wraith pilot, but he was definitely the one most suited to the aircraft.

He is a ghost.

Every Wraith pilot believes themselves to be the best, an arrogance stemming from the unit's loyalty and exceptional skill. The Terran Empire Wraith have battled the Zerg and Protoss in the skies, their footprints traversing planetary environments and the perilous wastelands of space.

The pilots of the Wraith possess the bravest souls in the Fleets; they are the most unrestrained aerial cowboys in the entire universe. Captains who would abandon ship at the slightest scratch on the hull are not even worthy of carrying their shoes.

Eric was one of the best pilots of the Wraith; he was one of those young people who dreamed of flying in the blue sky. When the Revolutionary Army came to Eric's hometown, he was still using his father's small aircraft to provide rescue services for the children of wealthy and powerful tourists. An Air Force major approached Eric and said, "Why don't you try a more interesting job?"

Regardless, Eric never regretted his decision. In the Revolutionary Army, he met many enthusiastic young people and made many friends—though many of them left Eric forever, including his first love.

A streamlined fighter jet appeared at the edge of Eric's field of vision and was accelerating closer. It was an old Avenger, the kind used by local militia. Come to think of it, only a wealthy place like Agria could support an air force.

In other words, in small places, any yacht can be used as a warship by mounting a small-caliber cannon; comparisons are inevitable.

But this Avenger was unlike any Eric had ever seen before. Its silver-white fuselage was covered with a thick layer of organic material and a hard brown shell, and the engine air intakes and exhaust ports had been replaced by tubular structures.

The unfortunate driver was bound to the cockpit by countless nerves, his head possibly cracked open, with proliferating brain nerves extending out and merging with the entire cockpit, like the brain of a living being.

Although it retains the appearance of a human-made fighter jet, the internal structure of this Avenger is completely different. This Zerg- infected fighter jet does not need refueling; it can directly consume high-energy gas.

Eric activated the main weapon's safety switch, looked up at the prompts on the HUD display, adjusted the speed and aim, and decisively pulled the trigger, launching two Gemini Air-to-Air Missile.

At the same time, the Avenger fighter on the opposite side also activated its machine guns, firing fiercely amidst the shockwaves in the air. However, its speed was no match for the Wraith, and its accuracy was inferior to that of the laser-guided missiles.

These infected fighter jets are usually no match for human pilots with the ability to think and make judgments, but they have other ways of attacking, such as closing in and self-destructing or trading their lives for each other.

The Griffin Swarm is an oddity among the various clans of the Swarm; they even created bombers loaded with Explosive Infested, and surprisingly, the results were quite good.

When the Avenger were hit, exploding into millions of sparks and fragments, Eric's Wraith had already arced several miles away, unable to witness the spectacular explosion.

Another pitiful soul has been saved.

Upon seeing the infected enslaved by the Swarm, even the most hard-hearted person would say they want to give them a release.

"The target has been destroyed; it's mine," the pilot of Swift 4 shouted.

"It is indeed yours," Eric said.

At this moment, the city of Megaton was directly below Eric, seemingly shrouded in a brownish mist, its surface covered with an ugly Creep.

Of those, only a few skyscrapers remained standing, though pulsating veins still coiled around them. Some buildings were quickly marked and enlarged on the display screen.

"Dive to 1,000 feet and attack all ground-based anti-aircraft fire," Eric continued, issuing the order.

"Repeat: Dive and fire."

The ugly ruins of Megaton seemed almost within reach, like a rotten, stinking grapefruit peel. Some small gray dots appeared on the screen; the information indicated they were Zerg Spore Crawler, bizarre creatures capable of spitting anything down from the sky, even battlecruisers.

Admittedly, Megaton was once a beautiful city, but it has now been transformed into a hatchery for Zerg. The dreadful Griffin Swarm has taken over Megaton, turning it into a source of disease and infection.

Humanity has only one choice: burn it down and build a new one.

Eric noticed that there were some even larger Zerg structures in Megaton, shaped like giant green water sacs, resembling a green-headed Antiga mushroom.

From their open nozzles, huge clumps of green slime were being sprayed tens of thousands of feet into the air, threatening even Fleets in high orbit. It's hard to imagine what organ was involved in this process, but in short, no pilot wants their aircraft to be grazed.

"What is that?" Ares had never seen it before.

"Uh, I guess it's bile, sir," a swift replied.

"Never mind, just blow it up," Eric said.

This young swift offered a profound insight that greatly benefited him in his limited life.

That's what they call blowing up their mother's head.

"Swifts are calling for the bomber formation to oil our old friends."

I need a vote.

Before I knew it, it felt like we'd be two million next month.