temper like that risked…
The gorgon’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a servile demon trying to attract her attention. “Ah my lady, I abase myself before your glory and humbly ask…”
“What is it?” Euryale snapped, lacking the patience for the usual groveling.
“The six flights of wyvern riders that the count bid depart, which beasts should we…”
“What is this?” The gorgon queen fixed the servant with a multi-eyed stare. “Where are my wyverns going and why?”
“To the grand army, for the destruction of the human invaders!”
Euryale shook her head. Belial seemed bent on squandering precious assets. “Did he say why he is risking my, ah…, his wyverns when Beelzebub must have two score legions of harpies to throw against the human sky chariots?”
The stunted orc seemed to be trying to shrink into the floor. Likely he thought there was no safe answer to this question.
“My lady, it is my understanding… the wyverns are to be loaded with hail javelins and bags of brimstone… I do not think they are intended to fight the human sky chariots.”
Euryale stared for a moment before she realized what the count was doing. It wasn’t about Satan’s favor, the magma attack was a far better way to gain that, it was simply a merchant taking an opportunity to demonstrate his wares.
“Very well. Attend me.” She set off for the wyvern roosts.
Chapter Fifty
Seafire One, over the Midlands, England. Acting Captain Sharkey Ward, RN (yes, the ‘acting’ part of his rank did slightly irritate him) did not need to do any fancy navigation on the way to Sheffield. The waterfall of lava flowing out of the sky and the huge smoke plume rising over what had once been the centre of the city was a give away. Below his Sea Harrier FA. 2 the main roads leading towards Sheffield were a sea of blue lights. Ward, and his wingman Commander Andy Auld, RN, who was also a recently recalled former Sea Jet pilot, had been assigned to help provide reconnaissance support to ground forces, and also provide local CAP if necessary. For the later role both aircraft were armed with four AMRAAM missiles and a pair of 30mm ADEN cannon pods, while for the former a BAE digital recce pod with the capability to down-load its imagery to ground stations was fitted to the centre-line pylon between the cannons.
The Sea Jet’s Blue Vixen radar showed that the airspace around Sheffield was extremely busy. At low level there were dozens of helicopters, both military and civil, there was also a queue of transport aircraft waiting to land at Sheffield airport. Higher up there were a pair of Jaguar GR. 3As each fitted with the Digital Joint Reconnaissance Pod, while above them were a pair of Tornado GR. 4s fitted with RAPTOR pods. Far above these aircraft was a single Canberra PR. 9 rescued from a museum, using its sophisticated recce fit to take high altitude pictures of Sheffield and the surrounding area as part of the efforts to predict where the lava flow would go next. Those on the ground would certainly not want for aerial imagery. Just to cap it off a Sentry AEW. 1 was now also airborne over the area providing RAF Boulmer with assistance in traffic control, and radar coverage.
“Boulmer, Seafire One requesting permission to enter exclusion zone. Over.”
“Roger, Seafire One. Please remain at your current altitude and avoid the airspace around the city, also remain clear of the portal area.”
“Roger that Boulmer. We are commencing our photo run; the pointy heads on the ground should be receiving our imagery in a few minutes.”
“Roger that, Seafire One. Please be aware that a water bomber flight is currently inbound and will pass five hundred meters below you. Over.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for them. Out.”
Incident Command Centre, Sheffield Airport, United Kingdom.
“That looks bad.” Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, late of the Scots Guards, said as he viewed the screens showing the aerial imagery now coming in. Lethbridge-Stewart had been sent in by Midland Command to take charge of all military units being sent to assist the fire service, and to serve as senior liaison officer. The ground stations that he had brought with him were normally used in conjunction with the Sentinel R. 1, but could also show imagery from the DJRP and RAPTOR pods, though it was also showing pictures taken by the high flying Canberra.
“Mr Benton could you ask CFO Spurrier, and that vulcanologist woman…what’s her name?”
“Mrs McManus, Sir.” Warrant Officer Class One John Benton replied.
“That’s a familiar name for some reason.” The Brigadier commented. “She’s not a large Scottish lady is she?”
“That would be Michelle McManus, Sir, almost a different species I’d say.
“I’ll go get them, Sir.”
“Well I certainly think that this will be a great help, Brigadier.” Chief Fire Officer Spurrier said a few minutes later after taking in the various picture feeds.
However Lethbridge-Stewart could see that the vulcanologist, Keavy McManus was not looking particularly happy.
“Is there something else we can do for, Mrs McManus?” He asked, being especially charming.
“Yes, Brigadier, you can let the survey team through them military cordon. They’re not doing us much good at the moment.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Mrs McManus, though actual access to the danger area is at the discretion of the fire service.
“Mr Benton, could you ask Captain Munro to organize passes and an escort for Mrs McManus’ survey team; it’s a top priority matter. If they need any engineering assistance then Captain Price should be able to help.”
“I’ll get right on it, Sir.
“There’s a message from Midlands Command for you, by the way, Sir, Major General Rutledge wants to speak to you.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr Spurrier, Mrs McManus, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Colonel Mace.”
Captain Marian Price, Royal Engineers, was tired and hot. She had spent the last twelve hours supervising the unloading of heavy engineering and fire fighting equipment which had been flown in by heavy transporters, such as RAF and USAF C-17A Globemasters. The last thing she needed now was an additional commitment.
“I presume, Private Jenkins, that at least we won’t be required to provide an escort to this survey team?”
“No, ma’m.” Private Ross Jenkins, the messenger from the Command Post, replied. “The Red Caps will escort them in.”
“Well that’s something at least.” Price said. “If they let me know what sort of equipment they might need then I’ll see what we have around.”
She glanced around at the concrete parking apron. It was a chaotic scene of bulldozers, various pieces of heavy plant, fire service High Volume Pumps, and various military vehicles, both armored and soft skinned.
“That’s if I can find anything amongst this lot.” She muttered.
Tapton Hall, Western Sheffield, United Kingdom
More fire crews were arriving every hour, from increasingly distant parts of the UK and even Europe, but they hadn’t been able to prevent the flames advancing up the hill into Broomhill. The order had come to pull back to the Rivelin fire break and that meant a last sweep for civvies trapped in the doomed buildings. Constable Matthew Hillier was one of those detailed for that, something that was a familiar duty by now. He moved briskly through the building, checking each room for anyone left behind by the original evacuation. At least that was improving; the chaos and confusion following the initial attack was diminishing as fresh command staff were flown in and a strategic response plan developed.
Another locked door. Hillier sighed and brought up the fire axe. Fortunately the internal doors were weak and one good strike was enough to smash the lock mechanism. The door splintered and shuddered open to reveal a crumpled female form. He moved quickly to check for signs of life. Relieved to see that the girl was still breathing, if
