Banshee

Six AH/G-24 Banshee bombers appeared below Eric's fighter, dodging the bile jets accelerated to twice the speed of sound by their ejection organs. One of them was hit in the tail, and the beautiful fighter with twin turbofan engines spun and crashed.

Eric didn't have time to mourn; he only hoped that the pilot of the Banshee wasn't the kind man he'd had a drink with at the bar.

A single-seat bomber with pitifully little armor, it was virtually defenseless against enemy fighters. Only lone heroes could pilot it.

Banshee pilots aren't all women, although they consistently make up the majority of the pilots. Never try to anger a Banshee, or you can only pray that the Imperial laws will save your life.

The Banshee pilots of the Terran Empire are not like wild, untamed weeds like Eric; they all graduated from the air force pilot schools, air force academies, and air force officer candidate schools of Umojan or Antiga. They are all the best of the best; out of 70,000, only 3,000 can become fighter pilots.

Piloting a fighter jet is not like taking a civilian flight for a leisurely drive. Operating a modern fighter jet is extremely complex. The pilots of the Terran Empire should all be true elites, and at the same time, they should and must be true fearless.

As Augustus Great said, every Revolutionary Army (imperial) soldier is a hero of this era; they form an army of justice and a shield for humanity.

"150 degrees from the bullseye, one Overlord spotted. Repeat, a giant Overlord with helium sacs on both sides of its body that are two hundred feet wide, a special variant." The voice came from Eric's wingman, who was steadily maintaining formation flight like an albatross flapping its wings.

"A big guy, requesting attack orders."

"Number 3, attack." Eric looked at the HUD display and took a deep breath from his oxygen mask.

Eric's experience fighting Swarm many times taught him that an Overlord rarely appears alone. These giant Zerg hovering high in the sky are like junior officers on Earth, or rather, signal base stations used to establish Psionics links between the Cerebrate and other Zerg members, with the Cerebrate remotely controlling the Zerg on the ground.

However, radar showed that there were no more large aircraft like these in the vicinity; if there were, they should have been shot down by fighters on the outer edge of the fighter formation.

"Climb to an altitude of 1,500 feet," Swift 3 said.

"Target locked, missile launched."

"I have killed the enemy."

Eric was happy for the success achieved by his comrades in his squadron, but if it were done by someone from another squadron, he couldn't hide his jealousy and would make sarcastic remarks.

The pilot of Swift 3 was a great young man, Holland Lancaster, whom everyone called Kitten because during training his instructors mocked him for his weak, feeble punches, like a kitten. Now, Holland's punches were faster and more accurate than anyone else's.

Holland was young, only 22 years old, from a well-off family, and became a pilot purely out of interest. Now, his family regrets supporting him. He was undoubtedly a foolish child, willing to step onto the battlefield for a so-called noble cause and the grand but illusory ideal of fighting for humanity.

Eric knew that Holland was just seeking thrills. He might have actually been persuaded by the Revolutionary Army, but the guy never talked about revolution.

Being a fighter pilot is a high-risk profession, especially in increasingly fierce warfare. Even if they eject before their plane crashes, falling into the hands of the Zerg is a fate worse than death. If they are captured by the Tal'darim, they might show mercy and let these humans meet a miserable death in the arena.

At that moment, Eric, piloting his Wraith, spun around to dodge a projectile of compressed bile fired into the air. Despite its small size, it was enough to reduce a fighter jet to scrap metal. Those slower aircraft and less agile pilots were already dead.

So far, this massive mixed fleet has not encountered swarms of Zerg force; only the Zerg anti-aircraft fire in Megaton has shot down several aircraft. At least, the Griffin Swarm and their abominable Plague Lord Carlos have not yet found a way to make the Infested Terran grow wings and fly.

But it was bound to happen sooner or later.

So far, the bombing mission has proceeded entirely according to plan. In fact, the Air Force had conducted multiple armed reconnaissance missions prior to the operation to ensure that Megaton was not a "vulnerability" intentionally exposed by the Swarm.

Meanwhile, satellites in geostationary orbit around Agria are constantly monitoring Megaton, where a Fleets of twelve battlecruisers is ready.

Eric had long since stopped praying to God, but he sincerely hoped that if there was a God, He would let the side of justice prevail. If those Xel'Naga were the gods of the past, they would probably be sitting in wheelchairs now, indifferent to the disputes of their creations.

In truth, Eric would prefer to seek power from Emperor Augustus.

Beneath his chair was a magnificent oil painting depicting Emperor Augustus's coronation. In it, the emperor, dressed in military uniform, was crowning his beautiful and alluring red-haired empress, while the wolves, symbolizing the Mengsk royal family, lay prostrate at his feet.

Like many Imperial soldiers, Eric's dream girl was Princess Dorothy Mengsk, Grand Duchess of Qilan. Rumor has it that Princess Dorothy had a sister, and old photos of her circulated, but her whereabouts are now unknown.

Imperial pilots may spend their free time dating, but none of them get married.

This is a profession with a near-certain death rate. During the Aiur Wars, Eric witnessed ninety-five Avenger and Wraith take off from the starport, but only eleven returned to the airbase. Of the remaining crew, only two were rescued by the Protoss or their allies.

In the distant Halsen, an elderly mother awaits Eric's return, and Eric only wishes that the woman forgets she ever gave birth to him.

The Terran Empire's fighter pilots come from hundreds of different worlds. Some worlds are on the edge of black holes, with towering waves, while others have vast bodies of water that are as hot as hot springs. In each different world, there are mothers who long for their children, but most of them will only receive a letter from the Empire: "Dear Mother, your son/daughter has fallen somewhere."

They will fight to the death, but they are simply living here.

This is no longer the best era for the Terrans; Parting of Loved Ones are all too commonplace.

With a series of beeps, the Banshee bombers in the flight formation adjusted their course, turned left, and dove down. Following them was an even larger group of Grizzly Bomber, dropping bombs with screeching and explosions accompanied by billowing smoke.

Tens of thousands of high-explosive plastic-steel bombs, cluster explosives, and solid incendiary bombs equipped with rocket boosters were unleashed on the city of Megaton, which had been completely invaded by Zerg. Each bomb weighed more than 1,000 pounds, nearly half a ton.

Hundreds of plumes of black smoke rose from Megaton first, and then it turned into a sea of fire.

From his 1,000-foot vantage point, Eric could see the entire city of Megaton ablaze. This city was once a beautiful, green, and eco-friendly place with well-connected roads and lush, tree-lined parks.

Megaton is now covered in dark purple and brown debris; it has been set ablaze, with thick smoke billowing from the deep red flames, and debris and smoke from the explosion severely impairing visibility.

Sunlight streamed through the parted clouds, and the scene inexplicably added a touch of melancholy.

Megaton was not the first target to be completely destroyed; the entire Griffin Swarm's main hive in Agria was devastated, and their spore-spraying organs and Virophage used to spread the virus were also targeted and destroyed by tactical nuclear munitions.

The Griffin Swarm seemed completely indifferent to the loss of territory, making no worthwhile effort to defend Agria. And according to Dr. Narud, the Imperial Royal Biologist most prone to alarmist pronouncements, the Cerebrate Carlos may have already achieved some kind of objective.

New variants of the Zerg have emerged, and they will become powerful weapons and vanguards for the next Swarm attack.

"Well done!" Cheers erupted in Eric's channel, the Imperial Wraith pilots not holding back their praise.

Banshee, those pathetic bitches, have the advantage of being both economical and productive, and can be quickly deployed to the front lines without requiring additional ammunition design. Their disadvantage is also obvious: they are nothing more than targets for Wraith.

This version is nominally a stealth bomber, but it is just a stealth module of the Wraith. In order to increase the bomb load, maintaining the stealth endurance is very problematic, and other problems also arise one after another. After all, after winning the bid for Marshal Augustus in 2492, Procyon Company completed the design and development, and went from finalization to mass production in just two years.

However, it cannot be denied that the Banshee remains an outstanding strategic bomber, a masterpiece of its time that emerged since the Total War. Whether in terms of speed, stealth, bomb load, or precision bombing, it far surpasses older bomber models. Ultimately, what allowed Proschan to defeat other competing companies was the Banshee's low cost and maneuverability as a medium bomber, which was only about 2/3 the cost of a G-225 medical transport aircraft.

The Banshee is now the main aircraft type in the Terran Empire's bomber force and has won the favor of the Imperial Air Force and Bomber Command.

She remains a near-Earth fighter capable only of operating within the atmosphere, unable to achieve escape velocity with her own turbine engines. Although she can be propelled into space by adding rockets, the Banshee is essentially useless in space warfare.

The birth of the Banshee occurred about eight years earlier than expected, which was also due to the Brood War being brought forward by eight years. With the continuous advancement of aviation technology, the emergence of increasingly faster and more maneuverable aircraft and warships was inevitable, especially given that Emperor Augustus invested more than 30% of his fiscal revenue in military development.

The Koprulu Sector is currently at war; the peaceful times of the past are long gone. Under pressure from powerful external enemies, the Terran Empire, rising from the ruins of the Confederacy, has purged the Old Families and their ill-gotten gains, concentrating its resources and manpower to transform into a rumbling, advancing war machine at an astonishing pace.

The Umojan Republic also wanted a share of the various weapons of war that the Terran Empire was gradually unveiling. However, after discovering Umojan spies at Valhalla and several other weapon prototype bases, Emperor Augustus and the Umojan councilors could only part on bad terms.

The Kel-Morian Combine quickly produced their own versions of the Warhound and the Banshee, but no one knows what price they paid for it.

The pilots of the Wraith were not jealous of the Banshee's status; the two aircraft types did not conflict at all. The Wraith was a powerful air superiority fighter, capable of high-speed flight in the sky, providing escort for Fleets and capital ships.

However, given the speed at which the empire upgrades its equipment, this situation is unlikely to last long.

"Bombing complete, requesting return to base." Eric released the throttle and once again surveyed the entire battlefield from a god-like perspective.

"Not permitted. Swift Squadron, ascend to 20,000 feet for cruising." The commander's emotionless voice came from headquarters.

Eric silently cursed "idiot" in his mind. In the pilots' eyes, their commanders were all morons who couldn't even fly a plane and were always nagging endlessly.

"On our way, headquarters," Eric said.

"Three Griffin Swarm battlecruisers are entering the atmosphere from high orbit. All Wraith, stop them before reinforcements arrive. The rest of the squadrons continue their escort mission."

A Swarm battlecruiser—that's an extremely bizarre statement, even if Eric doesn't have to prove how the Zerg should build their own warships.

But they do exist, and quite a few at that.

The warships salvaged from the junkyard by the Swarm had either crashed or lost contact, but the Zerg infection had turned them into living creatures. Many of these warships came from the former United Earth Directorate Expeditionary Fleet, whose crews and captains were said to have long since become hideous monsters and walking corpses, yet they still piloted those ghost ships as before.

Among these captains, ship captains, and Fleets commanders corrupted by the Swarm, some still retain the wisdom and cunning of their past. The most famous of these is Gerard DuGalle, the former Hand of Man and commander of the United Earth Directorate Expeditionary Fleet.

However, DuGalle's once-proud ambition to represent the United Earth Directorate and humanity in conquering the Koprulu Sector has become a joke.

"Yes, sir." Eric raised the nose of the Wraith, piercing through the clouds and soaring into the sky. A large number of Wraith followed suit. At this moment, the clouds resembled a white sea, and they were merely falling into it.

The Wraith are not afraid of battlecruisers. A large group of Wraith can launch a brutal encirclement and hunt down a lone battlecruiser, just like a pod of orcas surrounding a baleen whale.

A battlecruiser enveloped in tentacles and tentacles came into Eric's view; judging from the blurry paint and hull number, it was DuGalle's flagship Aleksander.

Millions of tentacles spilled out from the cracks in the deck of the Aleksander, stabbing at Eric's Wraith like moving snakes.

He only had one chance to escape the attack.