Once he’d climbed into his Argonaut, he kept it low as he advanced to the hilltop once more. This section of mountainous terrain had shielded their advance thus far, but it was the last cover they would have until they reached the spire.
Which, of course, was the purpose of the Zeppelin and the reason why they’d put so much time and effort into it. They needed it to create cover where there was none.
The Prophet looked into his scanners and scowled. "I said to release the blimp. Why is it still grounded?"
There was no immediate answer and he glanced at where it was buffeted by the wind.
"We can't release it under these high winds," someone finally shouted. From their accent, it was one of the Auburn rebels. "Otherwise, it'll drift out into the open and could take hours to bring on track again."
They were right and that would be disastrous. It didn't mean he had to like it, though. Waiting for conditions to become favorable wasn't how he was built. He had always advocated the benefits of a speedy assault and the ability to maintain the speed and agility required to advance and retreat continually to sting the enemy a hundred times until they died.
But that wouldn’t work against this enemy.
"Patience…is a virtue," he muttered aloud in an effort to calm himself.
The wind gauge on the Argonaut confirmed that they were dealing with gusts that blew at almost a hundred kilometers an hour. With the open grassland all around them, they wouldn’t find any advantage to it until it shifted to blow from the direction of the rock formation they used for cover.
"Come on, come on," he whispered.
"What was that?"
The Prophet realized his comm lines were open and cleared his throat. "Nothing. What's the status on the blimp?"
There was no response again, but he was more than able to judge the situation for himself. The group comprised at least two dozen—some in mechs and some not—but all now struggled to hold it in place. They had set up a series of ropes and anchors in the ground to facilitate this but even so, they fought an ongoing battle against the gusting wind.
He turned his mic off but continued to listen to the communication between his people. They were all anxious to enter combat but once they initiated their final march, they would have to impose radio silence during their attack. It wasn't likely, but the possibility that the people in the artillery mechs at the top of the spire would be able to triangulate their position despite the chaff release was too high.
Coordination was key, and they had spent hours running over the details during the day to plan their assault as meticulously as they could.
With that done, all that remained was to hope that nothing went wrong.
He studied the wind gauge with barely harnessed impatience. The speed didn't decrease but the angle shifted slowly to finally reach a trajectory toward the spire.
Surprisingly, the velocity slowed and seemed to settle into a steady and fairly substantial drift toward the target with none of the unpredictable gusts that would have caused significant interference.
He turned his mic on. "The winds are down. Release!"
His team released the mooring ropes and the balloon elevated smoothly. When it reached its optimal altitude, the rotors engaged to work with the wind and it began to surge forward. It looked almost impossibly slow but gained speed and advanced steadily toward the spire.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
While a clever idea, it remained an enormous gamble. The artillery guns would have no problem eliminating the blimp in mid-flight if they wanted to, and that would massively stall the assault while they tried to find another way to neutralize the defenses. The absence of an existing alternative plan was a reminder that they had no other options, to begin with.
But, as Robert7 had pointed out, the defenders believed that the blimp had been destroyed in the battle and therefore that they were the only ones who possessed any. It might seem a slim advantage, but not when added to their inevitable assumption that their trap had worked and no more enemies were left to defy their dominance of the area. Together, these would lead them to think there was no way someone would attempt a frontal assault.
They had good reason to believe that, obviously, and therein lay the gamble. One single question as to why a blimp had appeared on their radar, even in the strong winds, would lead to a challenge and that would be the end of it.
But the Desert Warriors and their allies would find a way through. They had to. He would not allow failure to plague him, not again.
The Zeppelin continued its progress and its speed increased as it glided a little higher as well. He had previously considered the possibility of using the cloud cover to hide its advance, but that would have delayed their attack further since they would have needed to start from kilometers away to allow it to gain sufficient altitude. Besides, cloud cover wasn't something they could rely on.
The Prophet pushed these futile what-ifs from his mind and focused on the fact that the die was cast. The people manning the guns could see it by now, and if they intended to fire, it would happen soon. He tensed in his Argonaut's cockpit but try as he might, he couldn't see any way to calm himself. His body and mind had been ready for a fight for what seemed like hours and he’d chafed during the long wait for the right conditions.
The seconds ticked past and the balloon continued to move. He could discern no sign of the cannon barrels moving to engage their new target or that any kind of alarm had been raised about an attack.
He could barely believe that their plan seemed to have fallen so easily into place. Of course, it wasn’t complete yet and all he could
