21:00 GMT+1
Chapman and Curtis had happily agreed to share the two-seater Eurofighter. They had recently flown together several times and felt most comfortable in the same aircraft. Takeda and Preston would pilot the other two aeroplanes individually. The Americans had been allocated the call signs Diablo 5-3, 5-2 and 5-1 respectively. They were now on the main runway, ready to take off with the rest of the ‘Diablos de Hispania’ Squadron. Thirty-eight Eurofighters were about to take to the skies, including the Diablos and the support squadron, the Tartessians. Many more jets were on the way, but the Diablos and the Tartessians were the two squadrons closest to Seville. Their mission was clear: They had to gain some time before aerial and ground reinforcements arrived. The pilots were ready to give it their all. Unfortunately, several key squadron members, including David Aguilar, were missing; they had been trapped in Seville when the attack had started. However, Commander Aguilera and Captain Enrique Esteve were on-hand to lead the two combat squadrons.
The aeroplanes took off in groups of three and began to circle Morón Air Base while they waited for the rest of the pilots to join them in the sky. As soon as they were ready, they split into three groups. The Diablos Squadron formed one group of fifteen planes, while the Tartessians divided into two groups of eight and fifteen units.
“Diablos Squadron Leader here. Beginning our approach on Seville. Morón Command, awaiting orders,” Aguilera maneuvered with his fighter leading the formation.
The Eurofighter Typhoons ascended westwards at top speed. There was no time to lose. Seville was burning. The pilots heard their radios broadcast a series of announcements.
“Morón Command. General Echevarría speaking. Ladies and gentlemen, this may be our toughest mission yet. You’ll have to be equally resilient. This is a fight to defend our sovereignty and to save our families from a merciless enemy whose sole aim is to destroy our homes. I know you’ll fight bravely. Good luck. Come home safe and sound,” the pilots heard over the radio.
“Diablo and Tartessians units, this is Colonel Hidalgo speaking. We’re about to launch a counter-attack on 2012 UA. As you know, we’ve already lost two F-18s. Intelligence is analysing their recordings so we don’t make the same mistakes. We know that the target is protected by some sort of force field but we believe a saturation attack could weaken it. We’ve got the support of an AWACS: call sign, Sparrowhawk 1. So far, it’s reported that the targets don’t show up clearly on radar so you’ll have to use heat-seeking missiles. Your orders are to destroy 2012 UA and all the smaller spacecraft. Tartessians Squadron will lead with a first group. Its target will be 2012 UA. Remember to break formation after launching your missiles to avoid any defensive fire. The second Tartessians group should concentrate on the smaller aircraft. Diablos Squadron, hold back and join in wherever necessary, as Commander Aguilera sees fit. Good luck, everyone. Morón out.” He silently prayed to God to protect them all.
“Diablos Squadron Leader here. OK pilots, you heard the orders. Afterburners on… Let’s go hunting,” Aguilera gave the order, then switched to a private channel to talk to Preston. “Preston, you and your boys bring up the rear until fresh orders come in, understand?”
“Copy. But we’re not going to hang back if things go south,” Preston was very certain about it.
“As I figured. I hope the first few minutes of combat are enough for you to analyse the situation and figure out whether or not we stand a chance,” Aguilera was aware of the seriousness of their situation.
“Agreed. I sure hope we can avoid any unnecessary casualties.”
“Something tells me that’s not going to happen… Anyway, remind your boys to hold back. I’m not losing them before their time.” He was aware that they were in a diabolical chess game.
“Understood.” Preston nodded, he admired that Spaniard, he wasn't going to let him fall.
It was truly remarkable to see so many fighter jets flying together in perfect formation. Preston glanced to his right. He could see Takeda in the cockpit of his plane. Chapman and Curtis were on his left. Chapman looked back at him and waved and gave him a thumbs up.
“Derek, James, Kira… We’ve been ordered to bring up the rear. Stay in formation with me. When we reach the combat zone, we stay out of it. Keep your eyes peeled, I want you to observe the enemy. Figure out its plays and weapons. We need to work out its strategy… And above all, its target.” Preston had complete confidence in them, he knew they were going to give their best.
“Aren’t we allowed to fight, sir?” Takeda looked anxious.
“Not for the time being. But don’t worry, I think we’re going to see more than enough action today.”
“Jack, what about the reinforcements?” Chapman asked.
“There are several squadrons on the way. The F-35s from Rota will be first to arrive, then the planes from the Juan Carlos I and the F-18s from Madrid. I hope it’ll be enough, but I doubt it… General Giles has confirmed that a squadron of F-35s has taken off from the Enterprise aircraft carrier in the Sixth Fleet.”
“Impressive. This must be the biggest deployment since the Second World War,” Chapman kept analyzing the situation.
A voice crackled over the radio. “Sparrowhawk 1, calling all units. You’re approaching the combat zone. We’ve detected twenty small enemy signals and one large one that we believe is from 2012 UA, the mothership. The small ones are extremely fast. Watch out, pilots.”
“Diablos, decelerate and remain in formation. Let’s see how the Tartessians get on,” Aguilera preferred to take extreme precautions.
“I hope they leave something for us, sir,” remarked Lieutenant Jaime Herrero, also known as Coyote.
“Hold your horses, Coyote. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty to go around,” Aguilera warned.
The fifteen Eurofighters in the Diablos Squadron split up from the main group and began to circle around Seville. They had been ordered to avoid direct contact with the enemy aircraft. The first group of Tartessians divided into two groups of four aeroplanes and both flew straight towards 2012 UA. Meanwhile, the second group separated into three groups of five fighter jets and descended towards the city. It was time to clear the skies of the smaller invaders.
“Tartessians Squadron Leader here. Beginning final approach on target. Missiles armed. Initiating first wave of synchronised attacks. Remember, Group 1, fire on my order. Group 2, two seconds later. Break formation after missile launch. We’ll regroup for the next wave, if necessary,” Captain Enrique Esteve ordered. Also known as Black Wolf, he had been appointed leader of Tartessians Squadron.
Their plan was clear. The first group would try to weaken the force field with four missiles in the hope that the second group’s missiles would subsequently pierce the shield and damage the spacecraft’s hull. Captain Esteve and his seven lieutenants knew what they had to do but their nerves were jangling nonetheless. The hostile visitor from outer space loomed above them. They watched as each side of the spacecraft hurled plasma bolts down on the city.
“Group 1. Fire the first round of Sidewinders!” Captain Esteve ordered. “Fox two!”
His three wingmen reacted without hesitation and released their missiles. Four darts instantly shot out of the aeroplanes at full speed and the fighter jets broke formation and split up. Moments later, the second group of aircraft repeated the manoeuvre and fired their missiles. The first four missiles blasted into the force field and violently exploded. They were followed shortly after by the second wave of missiles. Flames, explosions… But there was no sign that the force field or spacecraft had been damaged in the slightest.
“Tartessians Squadron Leader here. No impact from first round. Repeating manoeuvre.”
“Copy. Good luck,” Aguilera wished it with all his heart.
Meanwhile, Tartessians Group 3 had taken up its position and was trying to drive away the smaller spacecraft.
“Tartessians 3-1, initiating combat with hostile units. Spread out. I want each enemy unit to have one of our guys on its tail. Drive those things out of the city. Don’t open fire until you’re sure you can take them down away from built-up areas. We can’t have any more collateral damage.”
“Copy,” the pilots in the group replied.
The three groups of fighter jets separated, each aircraft tackling one of the strange-looking spacecraft. The enemy vehicles were swift and flew erratically. Some had even landed on the ground. They were clearly able to stop mid-flight and to take-off and land vertically. Preston received a live broadcast filmed by a pilot in Group 3 and watched it on one of the screens in his cockpit. It was currently focused on one of the smaller spacecraft which had landed at the Prado de San Sebastián.
“Commander Aguilera, Tartessians 3-10 has been filming the enemy. One of the smaller spaceships has changed shape. Now it looks like a spider,” Preston couldn't believe something like this was possible.
“So, I see… More problems. Listen up, all units. The smaller spacecraft are able to change shape. From now on, their codename is ‘Spider’. Be extra careful until we can gather more data,” Aguilera felt like they were living in a deadly surreal situation.
The Tartessians Group 3 fighter jets tried to buzz and intimidate the spiders to little effect. Their efforts were in vain; the spiders held their positions and continued to circle above Seville.
Groups 1 and 2 had regrouped and were starting another approach on the main spacecraft, ready to repeat their attack.
“Let’s go, pilots! We’ll do it this time… Let’s blow that thing sky high. We’ll show them who the real bastards around here are…” Captain Esteve knew that this was the defining moment of his life. “Fire in five, four, three, two, one… Fox two!”
Four missiles rocketed towards the target with four more right behind. Another direct hit on the alien spacecraft. But once again their attack was useless; all eight missiles were repelled by the force field.
“Group 1, follow me. Let’s get closer… We’ll open fire with our cannons,” Captain Esteve ordered. “Group 2, cover our escape.”
Captain Esteve wheeled his Eurofighter around until he was facing 2012 UA again. His finger was resting on the joystick trigger, ready to open fire. “We’ll do a quick fly-by. Let’s see if our .27mm shells can get through that shield.”
Captain Esteve now flew closer than anyone had yet dared. Examining the hull, he could clearly see that it was made from a strange, dark metal, its surface covered in ridges. The cannons that had just been blasting the city were located on either side. What now caught his eye were the two horizontal sections that ran outwards from the centre of the spacecraft. At first, he had thought they were wings, admittedly rather small ones in proportion to the rest of the spaceship. However, now that he could see them up close, he realised that they looked more like two vast cannons. He had to report back about this…
Suddenly, plasma beams shot out from several points across the alien hull and struck him straight on. Captain Esteve and his fighter jet burst into a huge ball of flames. Tartessians 1-2 and 1-3 were also instantly shot down. Tartessians 1-4 managed to open fire with its machine-gun but the bullets simply bounced off the force field. The pilot tried to evade the enemy attack but was struck on his left wing. It was too late to turn. The pilot lost control of his aircraft and crashed straight into the spaceship’s shield. Even this explosion had no discernible effect.
“Tartessians 2-1 here. Group 1 down. I repeat, Group 1 down. Shit! That fucking spaceship has anti-aircraft weapons! Requesting orders,” the pilot begged in desperation.
“Group 2, Diablo Squadron Leader here. Do not approach the main spaceship. I repeat, do not approach the main spaceship. Back up Group 3 until further order,” Aguilera stifled the outburst of rage that burned in his chest.
“Copy,” Tartessians 2-1 replied trying to hold his nerves.
The four Typhoons swung away and flew down to join the chaotic dance that was taking place above Seville. By now, the Group 3 pilots were feeling frustrated. So far, their attempts to drive the spiders away from the city had come to nothing. It was impossible. The spiders simply ignored them as if they insignificant flies.
“Fuck! Enrique, no! Fucking son of a bitch! Talk to me, Jack,” Aguilera used the private channel while trying to contain his desperation.
“This is bad. Very bad. Medium-range weapons, anti-aircraft defence, force field… We’re going to need something more powerful if we’re going to take that thing out,” Preston’s mind was racing, but he couldn't find any path that would take them back home.
“Morón Command. Our attacks aren’t working. We’ve had four fatalities already. We need more firepower. When will reinforcements get here?” Aguilera was not going to give up by any means.
“Morón Command here. Ten minutes until Barracuda Squadron and fifteen minutes until Dolphin Squadron. They’re both flying f-35s. Twenty minutes till the 12th Wing’s F-18s. Seventy-six planes in total.”
“At the moment the target only responds to aerial attacks. We’re going to focus on the smaller spacecraft,” Aguilera tried to be pragmatic.
“Copy, Diablos Squadron Leader. We’ll look into alternative weapons.”
Morón Command Centre was a whirlwind of activity. When news of the first four fatalities arrived, the team felt as if it had been doused with cold water. The death of Captain Esteve had been a real blow; he had been much-loved and highly respected. General Echevarría was still linked up to President Alonso’s emergency cabinet and was reporting any developments to the ministers.
“Sir, we’ve just heard from Admiral Montalvo on the Juan Carlos I. He says he thinks he might have a firepower solution that can take out 2012 UA,” the communications officer reported.
“Get him up on the screen,” General Echevarría gestured.
Admiral Montalvo appeared. He was on the bridge of the Juan Carlos I with an artillery officer.
The General did not beat about the bush. “What have you got for me, Admiral Montalvo?”
“General Echevarría, one of our artillery officials thinks he might have found a way to use our cruise missiles against that thing. A joint attack by our frigates might see it off,” he said firmly.
“Cruise missiles? They’re not designed to attack a target at that altitude. They’re for terrestrial targets,” General Echevarría reluctantly disdained.
“If you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant Ramírez will explain,” Admiral Montalvo gestured to the man at his side.
“General, I’ll be brief and spare the technical details. When we heard that the attack by our F-18s had failed, I thought hard about how we could shoot that thing down. I suddenly thought, what if we modified the flight system on our cruise missiles? We could try to make them reverse their trajectory, so they turn upwards at a very tight angle. The missiles would fly towards the object at ground level, just like they normally do… And then when they reach the target, they’d pull vertically upwards to strike it from below,” Lieutenant Ramirez spoke with great confidence.
“Do you think it’ll work?” General Echevarría looked at him skeptically, after thinking for a second.
“I think so, sir. I’ve done all the calculations and the theory is solid,” Lieutenant Ramírez said with conviction.
“How long will it take before the new system is operative on your frigates?”
“A minute, sir. I’ve already got everything ready. The four frigates in our combat group can fire sixteen cruise missiles at the same time. With that much firepower… Well, that thing’s just got to come down…”
General Echevarría paused to think. The idea was insane. And it meant using a large quantity of expensive cruise missiles. But considering the situation and the losses they had suffered, now wasn’t the time to stint on resources.
“Very well, Lieutenant Ramírez. You’ve convinced me. Admiral Montalvo, coordinate with Morón Command. Let’s hope this works.”
“Yes, sir. Initiating launch operation,” Admiral Montalvo ordered.
General Echevarría asked Colonel Hidalgo to report back to Aguilera and the other squadron leaders on route to Seville. Meanwhile, he would inform President Alonso about the new initiative.
Meanwhile, Group 3 remained unsuccessful at driving the spiders away from the city. The smaller spacecraft were entirely indifferent to their efforts and continued their attack unabated, unleashing hell in the streets of Seville. Aguilera looked on from his secure position, burning with rage.
“Group 3, Diablos Squadron Leader here. Permission granted to open fire over urban areas. Use your cannons. We’ve got to do something. People are dying,” much to his regret, it was now impossible to avoid collateral damage.
“Copy, sir. Attention all Tartessians. Permission to open fire with your cannons. It’s time to crush these spiders,” the Group 3 leader informed his pilots.
At that moment, Tartessians 3-4 had a spider in its sights. The alien spacecraft had been circling over the city since the fighter jets had arrived. The Tartessians pilot set his head-up-display and squeezed the trigger. The deafening sound of a Mauser BK-27 roared over Seville as hundreds of shells were unleashed on the enemy. Several hit home, but the spider was also protected by some type of force field. The spacecraft didn’t hesitate; when the Eurofighter flew overhead, it immediately rushed after it in pursuit.
“Tartessians 3-4 here. Direct hit on a spider. The bloody thing didn’t even flinch.” He reported frustrated.
“Tartessians 3-4, Tartessians 3-7 here. Look out! You’ve got one on your tail. Six o’clock!” His partner shouted desperately.
“What the…?” The Tartessians 3-4 pilot’s final words hung in the air seconds before his fighter jet exploded.
The spider flew through the flames unscathed and started to seek another victim, firing plasma beams at the next aircraft it found. The scene was repeated across the skies as several more alien spacecraft now turned on the Tartessians. The pilots uttered blood-curdling screams as they died. Suddenly, the Tartessians were facing a total massacre. Aguilera was gazing helplessly at the scene when he received the report about the cruise missile attack. The missiles had just been launched and would reach the target in less than five minutes. They had to gain some time at any cost.
“Attention, all Diablo units. Split into your groups and engage the enemy at will. Use all available weapons. We’ve got to save the Tartessians,” they had to give it their all or it would be game over.
“Copy,” his pilots replied.
“Juan, we’re coming too. You need all the support you can get or you won’t survive until the cruise missiles arrive,” Preston said over the private channel.
“Go ahead, Jack. Looks like this could be the end of the road… So, let’s make sure we give those bastards something to remember us by,” Aguilera wanted revenge.
“Consider it done. Me and the boys will fly as a group, we’re used to working as a team. We’ll give you all the back-up we can,” Preston needed to get involved to find some weak point in these seemingly impregnable enemies.
The fifteen Eurofighters in the Diablos Squadron split into five groups of three. The final group consisted of Preston, Takeda, and Chapman and Curtis in the two-seater jet. They raced to help the Tartessians whose pilots were dropping like flies. Even though barely half the spiders were on the attack, they were so powerful that eight pilots had fallen in the first minute of battle alone. Morón Command Centre was stupefied, staring at the flight control screen that displayed the status of each fighter jet in the air. One after another, status after status turned red as the aircraft were destroyed, their signals permanently lost. There had been twelve fatalities so far during the mission, a completely unacceptable number under any normal circumstances. But what was happening in Seville was far from normal.
Soon the sky above the city was maelstrom of yellows, reds and greens as fighter jet shells, missile explosions and enemy plasma beams converged. Meanwhile, the vast spacecraft gazed down indifferently from above, detached from the chaos. It had stopped bombing Seville, perhaps satisfied by the havoc it had caused to the city’s main buildings and structures. In contrast, ever more blood was being shed in the battle below.
“Diablo 2-3 here. I’ve got a spider in shooting distance. Firing a Sidewinder,” Lieutenant ‘Thunder’ Redondo called out.
He fired his missile and it rocketed towards the heat signal generated by the alien spacecraft. At first the spider ignored him; the missile found its target and exploded. This time, although the spacecraft was protected by its force field, it appeared to be shaken by the blast. It now wheeled around to chase after its attacker.
“Sir, the missile didn’t destroy the spider but I think it shifted its trajectory. Maybe several missiles at once could take out the shield,” Thunder reported.
“Copy. All units, it looks like the spiders can be damaged if we use several Sidewinders at once. You know the order. Fire at will,” Aguilera felt a glimmer of hope.
Preston and his team flew down towards the city. It was time to enter the fray and do their bit.
“Right, let’s get organised. These spacecrafts are fast and resistant… We’ll have to hit them with everything we’ve got,” Preston began looking for a target of opportunity.
“Sir, I’ve been analysing their movement pattern. I think we can damage them if we launch a joint attack. According to my calculations, if we manage to strike a spider with two missiles fired from different angles, and then hit it with our shells, we might just take it out,” Takeda's mind was racing.
“There’s a spider in the Prado de San Sebastián. The one that changed shape. It’s still in position. Let’s try our luck with that one,” Preston finally made up his mind out of all the options.
“But sir, we don’t have any air-to-ground missiles,” Curtis warned.
“I know. But I reckon Kira will be able to come up with something… Am I right?”
“Sir, it’d be really dangerous to get too close to the target, plus there’s the risk of collateral damage. Let’s use the Sidewinders. I’ll send you the calculations,” Takeda confirmed.
“OK, received. It’s worth a shot. Kira, we’ll approach from the east and west and attack with our missiles, then you come in from the south and finish it off with your cannons,” Preston said.
“Copy. Initiating attack manoeuvre. I’ll be there in thirty seconds,” Takeda typed quickly.
The three aeroplanes separated and each swung around in a different direction. The spider at the Prado de San Sebastián was sitting by a roundabout close to the metro entrance. It had crushed any attempts at resistance by the police, also destroying any ground vehicles in shooting distance, including an ambulance. The roundabout was a key intersection and the spider was cutting off one of the main thoroughfares used by the emergency services. Preston was aware of the location’s importance and had selected this spider as a priority target for this very reason. The spacecraft had to be destroyed by whatever means possible.
The spider was an impressive hulk of a vehicle. It was currently standing on three of its limbs while the other two, its main cannons, were pointing at the ground as if they were resting.
“Initiating attack in three, two, one… Let’s go!” Preston accelerated.
The false sense of calm at the Prado de San Sebastián was shattered when a missile struck the spider, knocking it sideways. A second missile blasted it on its other side moments later. The spider instantly activated itself, but just then the ground in front of it was torn to shreds in a hail of shells. The spider was hit several times and knocked off its legs onto the ground. Seconds later, Takeda’s Eurofighter skimmed overhead.
“We got it!” Takeda raised his fist in victory.
“No so fast… It’s moving!” Curtis warned, looking through his Eurofighter’s long-range camera.
He wasn’t mistaken. The spider pulled itself upright and swiftly transformed back into its closed fist shape before taking off in pursuit of Takeda. “Kira, look out! It’s coming after you!” Chapman warned. “Try to distract it… We’re on our way.”
“Copy. Let’s see what this Typhoon can really do,” Takeda cursed himself for being so confident, he wouldn't make that mistake again.
“OK, let’s—” Preston began.
The voice of the AWACS communications officer interrupted him. “Sparrowhawk 1 to all combat units. Sixty seconds until cruise missiles reach target. Keep your eyes on 2012 UA. You might need to take evasive action to avoid it when it comes down.”
“OK, Kira, watch out. Derek, James, no letting the kid get shot down… That’s an order. Ascending to observe the cruise missile attack,” Preston hated to abandon them, but it was crucial to directly observe the attack on 2012 UA.
“Copy,” they all replied as they frantically steered their jets.
Preston pulled his joystick hard, accelerating upwards at top speed. As he soared high into the sky, he could see Takeda barely managing to evade the spider’s plasma beams. So, the spacecraft were more advanced, had better weapons, better handling, were faster… But that kid, Kira? He was a real ace. He wouldn’t make an easy target.
“Diablo Squadron Leader, permission to join your formation,” Preston stood beside him.
“Permission granted, Jack. Let’s see if this hare-brained idea is any good,” Aguilera felt a little more relieved to have Jack next to him. “We’re running out of options.”
“We thought we’d taken out a spider just now… But it seems to be impossible. What’s the situation?”
“Bad. Really bad. We’ve lost another six pilots from Tartessians Squadron. And from our squadron, Coyote, Wildcat and Bear… Hammer and Flame managed to eject before it was too late. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hang on like this…” Every casualty was a burden for him.
“Shit! We’ve got to fight back… Just a little longer. The back-up squadrons are less than five minutes away.”
“All units, attack imminent!” Sparrowhawk 1 warned.
Preston and Aguilera were a prudent distance away from the huge alien spacecraft when they finally saw the sixteen cruise missiles appear. They had been skimming along at ground level, following the Guadalquivir River to avoid detection. When they were right underneath 2012 UA, they hurtled straight upwards at top speed. The missiles were like a glorious column of rightful vengeance shooting up into the sky, humanity’s hope of delivering a fateful blow to its infernal enemy. The missiles spread out just before they reached the spaceship, striking it at numerous different points. It was engulfed in a series of tremendous explosions, momentarily swallowed up by a blazing fire that illuminated the sky above Seville. The pilots raised their eyes upwards, staring at the vast fireball and waiting with bated breath. But their hope turned to desperation when they realised that the huge spaceship remained undamaged. Once again, the wretched force field had kept it from harm.
Preston steered his aircraft over to join the formation with Aguilera. They all needed to take a step back and digest what had just happened. Their latest major attack on the mothership had failed without causing even the slightest damage. And there was more. 2012 UA had remained entirely still since it had arrived in Seville, but now it was slowly turning to face southwards…
“Jack, follow me. I don’t like the fact it’s moving one little bit. We need to see that spaceship close up…” Despite his helplessness, he needed to find something that would allow them to destroy that monstrous ship.
“Juan, we can’t get any closer. Its defences would destroy us in seconds.” Despite this, he wasted no time in maneuvering after him.
“As long as we don’t attack it, I think we’ll be safe. It’s only shot down planes that have opened fire on it.”
They ascended at full speed until they were horizontal with the spacecraft and had a good view of its front. Just then, it stopped turning. Suddenly, lights appeared on each of the two sections that projected from either side of its hull. It looked like energy was being concentrated at each tip.
“Jack, is that what I think it is?” Aguilera wondered aloud.
“Sweet Jesus! Yes! They’re cannons! Juan, we’ve got to get out of here! We’re right in the way!” Preston shouted, wheeling sharply around to the right.
“Shit!” He could see them getting brighter and brighter.
Aguilera attempted to turn and follow Preston but he wasn’t fast enough. The spacecraft’s two main cannons fired two gigantic beams of green energy towards the south. Aguilera’s Eurofighter was knocked off balance by the shock wave, spiralling downwards out of control.
“Juan, are you OK?” Preston shouted, struggling to control his own jet which was also being tossed around by the force of the blast.
“Shit! It’s fried my systems! I’ve lost control! I’m trying to stabilise… The controls aren’t responding…” Aguilera Juan manipulated the steering lever desperately.
“Your fuselage has been melted. You’ve got to bail!” Preston stared in horror at his friend's jetfighter.
“Damn! All units. Diablos Squadron Leader here. I’m going down! About to eject… Transferring aerial command to Diablo 5-1, to Lieutenant Jack Preston. Good luck, boys.”
After hearing these words, Preston saw Aguilera shoot out of the Eurofighter cockpit and open his parachute.
“Morón, Diablo 5-1 here, taking command. What just happened? What was that thing shooting at?” Preston feared the answer, but he needed to confirm it.
“Lieutenant Colonel Preston, this is Colonel Hidalgo. We’ve just received an emergency call from the Juan Carlos I combat group. It’s taken a direct hit. The Blas de Lezo and Méndez Núñez frigates have been destroyed,” Colonel Hidalgo’s voice sounded very grimly.
Preston let the words sink in, trying to appreciate their implications. He scanned the skies. Their combat groups were dashing around wildly and units were dropping one after another. How could it have come to this?
Wherever he looked, all he saw was mayhem. Preston had barely managed to maintain control of his own aircraft. While he hoped that Aguilera had parachuted to the ground safely, right now all he could think about were the men who were still alive. The pilots at the controls of their fighter jets.
“All units, regroup with your wingmen. No fighting alone. You’ll get shot down. Don’t lose hope, reinforcements are about to arrive,” he needed to keep morale from collapsing completely.
They had lost another six aircraft in the last two minutes, four from the Tartessians Squadron and two Diablos. He believed the two Diablos had been Torre and Torera, one of their few female pilots. Miraculously, Takeda was still dodging continuous attacks by the spider, but it was in relentless pursuit. It wouldn’t stop until it had killed him. Preston wheeled around and tried to catch up with Takeda.
“Kira, we’re almost on it. Hang on a couple of seconds more… We’ll fire two missiles up its ass,” Derek wasn't going to let them get him down.
“Hurry up. That goddamn thing is obsessed with me,” Takeda yelled, drenched in sweat from the superhuman effort of staying alive.
“Bingo! He’s all ours! Fox two! Fox two!” Curtis pulled the trigger in fury, he wasn't going to let his friend fall either.
The two missiles rocketed towards the spider that was still firing at Takeda. But just as they were about to hit it, something unexpected happened. The spider stopped dead and opened out its limbs, transforming. It turned a half circle, fixed its two main cannons and fired two powerful plasma beams straight at the missiles, which were sliced in two, instantly exploding. The plasma beams continued on their path, now heading straight for Chapman and Curtis. The Americans were out of time. There was nothing Chapman could do to evade the enemy fire. The plasma beams made a direct hit on Curtis and Chapman’s Eurofighter. Diablo 5-3 exploded with a huge blast, just as Preston arrived on the scene to help.
“Derek! Nooooo!” Preston yelled, his eyes wide.
It was too late. All that remained of the Eurofighter were smoking remnants that were plummeting earthwards. Chapman and Curtis had not had time to eject.
“Sir… I’m… I’m sorry…” Takeda mumbled in a broken voice.
Countless images and memories flashed through Preston’s mind. The first time he had met Derek. The hundreds of times they had flown and fought together. The time they had been shot down in Tora Bora. How Derek had saved him from certain death. All those nights drinking beer, laughing and swapping stories until daybreak. The family barbecues, watching as their children also became firm friends. But Chapman wasn’t just a friend. He was like the brother Preston had never had. The guy who always had his back, no matter what. And he had failed him. He hadn’t saved him. Chapman had died and a significant part of Preston had gone with him. Tears began to stream down Preston’s cheeks, he was unable to hold them in.
“The spider is after me again, sir. I need your help!” Takeda screamed desperately, he felt afraid for the first time in a long time.
Takeda’s voice snapped Preston out of his trance. A second’s hesitation and another friend would die. He couldn’t allow himself to feel even a hint of grief right now. He had to hold on, keep going, pull himself together. For Derek, James, Enrique, for all the brave pilots who were dying in Seville tonight. They had to survive, they owed it to them, so their loss wouldn’t be in vain…
“Kira, I’m coming, hang on. We’re going to finish off that bastard, whatever it takes,” Preston pulled the lever to chase the spider.
“Diablos Squadron Leader, Barracuda Squadron entering the combat zone. They’re under your command. Dolphin, Viper and Bull Squadrons will be here in under five minutes,” Sparrowhawk 1 announced.
“Copy, all units, get into pairs and work as a team. Proceed with caution, the spiders can stop dead in full flight and change shape. Break formation whenever you’ve just fired a missile, don’t make it easy for them. Let’s go get them!” Preston managed to control the rage that was trying to set him on fire and let himself be overcome by a glacial calm that gave him back his analytical clarity.
The eighteen F-35s in Barracuda Squadron, flying out of the military base at Rota, split into pairs and started to attack the spiders that were besieging the few remaining survivors of Tartessians and Diablos Squadrons. Once again, the noise of missiles and projectiles intensified across Seville.
Takeda was hard-pressed to keep dodging the spider’s shots. It was only a matter of time before he wound up dead. If he faltered for even the briefest of moments he would be killed. He had to do something! His mind whirred at top speed, analysing all his options. Meanwhile, his aeroplane soared through the sky above Seville, the city ever more ravaged by flames and black smoke. The bridges had been destroyed and part of the city was completely cut off. The bridges! Why hadn’t he thought of it before! He swerved to give himself a view of the bridges and river. They were all practically destroyed but… Wait a minute! Only the west arch of Triana’s Bridge was damaged, the central and east arches were still standing. He remembered visiting the bridge once with Curtis on a sightseeing trip to the city. He had fantasised about flying under it, although he knew that the arches of the bridge were very low, making it virtually impossible. And yet…
“Sir, I've got an idea!” A devilish smile appeared on his face.
“What is it?” Preston asked, trying to position himself behind the spider that was chasing Takeda so that he could open fire on it.
“Remember that manoeuvre with the fake bridge we did in the Phoenix test?”
“You’re not thinking—”
“Yes, sir, it’s the only way. I'll lead the spider to Triana Bridge and do what I can to fly underneath. If you fire on the bridge and the rubble falls on the spider, maybe we’ll finally be rid of that thing,” Takeda was mentally visualizing it a thousand times and had no doubt of its success.
“I can’t set you as a target for the missiles… It’s too risky, Kira!” Preston felt a great helplessness.
“We have no choice, sir. If I have to die, I want to do it killing my friends’ murderer. My mind’s made up,” Takeda declared firmly, not only was his life at stake, but also his honor.
Preston gave in, smiling at the irony of fate. “OK. Desperate times mean desperate measures. Go ahead. I’ll open fire with everything I’ve got. I hope it goes the way you want.”
“Good. Remember, you’ve got to fire at me. Forget about the spider. Your missiles need to hit just before I go under the bridge if this is going to work,” Takeda narrowly dodged another energy blast.
“Copy. Good luck, kid. It’s been an honour flying with you.” He tried to contain the emotion that tried to moisten his eyes.
“The honour has been all mine, sir. See you on the other side. Semper fidelis.” Takeda was no longer afraid; he was overcome with a serene calm like never before.
Preston had nothing but admiration for the kid. So young, so brave and a genius to boot. He simply couldn’t be shot down now. If they were going to stand any chance of surviving, they were going to need pilots like him alive. He had to kill that spider, whatever it took.
Preston steered his Eurofighter around and readied his aircraft so that he could nosedive on the bridge at just the right moment. Meanwhile, Takeda was swerving to avoid the bursts of plasma beams, visualising the manoeuvres he would have to pull off to skim low over the river. That would be the hardest part; there would be several seconds when evading enemy fire would be impossible. The slightest mistake, even by a tenth of a second, meant certain death.
He rapidly dropped down towards the Guadalquivir. The spider was close behind, its shots exploding violently in the water. The bridge was now right in front of him. This was the manoeuvre of a lifetime. Of all their lifetimes. No one had ever done anything like it before. But he knew he could do it; he had been born for this very moment. Time slowed down. Takeda’s Typhoon slipped under the bridge just as Preston nosedived, launching two missiles and firing hundreds of shells from his cannon. The spider took the bait. It followed Takeda under the bridge. Takeda pulled up fast just as the centre of the bridge was shuddering from the fearsome impact of the missiles and shells. The spider was right underneath. Before it appeared on the other side, the central arch of the bridge collapsed, smashing the spider into the water. It quickly sank without a trace, its force field unable to protect it this time. It wasn’t strong enough to shield it from such a powerful blow.
Preston laughed out loud. He tugged his joystick hard, climbing upwards to avoid the same watery fate as the spider.
“We did it! We took that bastard out!” he cried, his voice choked by tears and laughter.
“It’s possible, sir! I knew it! Those things aren’t invincible!” Takeda slammed his fist on the fighter cabin.
“One down, nineteen to go. We’re not there yet. Fly at my three o’clock. Let’s join the F-35s.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Morón Command, Diablos Squadron Leader here. Diablo 5-2 and I have just taken out a spider. It crashed into the river. They’re not invincible!” Preston wanted to convey his euphoria to everyone.
The other pilots heard his message and were finally offered a tiny glimmer of hope amid their despair. There was still a chance they could win this torturous battle.
“Diablo Squadron Leader, Dolphin, Viper and Bull Squadrons are entering the combat zone,” Sparrowhawk 1 announced.
“Copy. All Diablos and Tartessians units, join Barracuda Squadron and take charge of the west sector. Dolphin Squadron, north sector. Viper Squadron, east sector. Bull Squadron, south. There are lot of us up here. We don’t want any accidents. Remember, the spiders may be superior but they can be killed. Work as a team and enter combat at will. Good luck, pilots,” for the first time he thought he had a chance to win.
Morón Command Centre was observing the scene. They had lost almost the entire Tartessians Squadron and over half the Diablos. Still, now that reinforcements had arrived, there were more than seventy fighter jets in the air. And more were on the way. Twenty F-35s from the US Sixth Fleet and twenty-four F-22s from Decimomannu Air Base in southern Sardinia. Furthermore, France had just announced the deployment of its Charles de Gaulle aircraft carrier with thirty Dassault Rafale fighter jets and the United Kingdom had approved the use of its Eurofighter squadron based in Gibraltar. There was no doubt about it. This was Europe’s greatest military and aerial deployment of the 21st century. Despite outnumbering the enemy, General Echevarría remained anxious and focused on the data arriving from the combat zone, his face tense and white. This battle would not merely decide the fate of Seville, but possibly humanity itself.
Preston was aware that while they were currently superior in number, they were at a disadvantage in tactical terms. What frustrated him most was the enemy’s attitude. More fighter jets had arrived, but the spiders that weren’t yet involved in the dogfight continued to ignore them, still not supporting the spiders that were engaged in battle. So, what was the spiders’ real target? The question was driving him crazy. And the answer could mean the difference between life and death. Gazing down at the city in flames, he noticed that all routes into Seville had been destroyed. Turning it over in his mind, it struck him that, rather than preventing land reinforcements from arriving, the enemy was trying to stop anyone from leaving. But why? He had no idea. Nor did he know exactly what was happening down on the ground. Either way, he and his men would fight tirelessly on until they had exhausted their last drop of fuel. Their last bullet. Their last missile.
Takeda and Preston had now been joined by two other pilots from Diablos Squadron. Together they were trying to shoot down a spider that had just destroyed one of the F-35s from Barracuda Squadron. Preston had the spider in his sights and was firing short bursts with his cannon, trying to draw it away so that it would leave another F-35 in peace. Takeda steered his aircraft around to attack from the front. They hoped to execute their attack plan in under thirty seconds. Unfortunately, it was too late. The spider destroyed the F-35, instantly swerving around to chase another fighter jet that had just flown underneath it. Preston rushed after the spider. This time he decided to use his missile before it was too late. The spider was in shooting distance, there was just a few hundred yards between them.
“Fox two!” he shouted.
His missile rocketed forwards and struck the spider on its rear, exploding into flames. Time seemed to stop. Preston watched as the blaze cleared and the spider began to transform, turning around to face him. Its two powerful cannons emerged from the flames. Despite the distance between them, they looked close enough to touch. He could see the energy build up inside them. The spider was about to fire at him and he would end up dying in the exact same way as his best friend had. It was ironic to say the least, that they should share the same fate. His final hope was that Takeda and the others could shoot that thing down before it was too late…
Suddenly, several blue plasma beams sliced through the spider and it unexpectedly exploded in a fiery ball of greenish flames. Preston was dragged out of his reverie, of what he had imagined to be his dying moments, only to see several unknown hawk-like spacecraft flashing past him at lightning speed. It was a moment that would be forever engraved on his memory. The remains of the spider plummeting downwards. The group of new spacecrafts speeding past, like futuristic fighter jets, with slim wings that ended in cannons and a cockpit at the front that looked like the beak of a hawk. One of them in particular would be impossible to forget. Inside its cockpit he could make out a human figure that appeared to be waving at him. Surely this couldn’t be happening? Had he died? Was this a dream?
But if it were a dream, why on earth could he still hear the strident voice of the Sparrowhawk 1 communications officer?
“…multiple new unidentified contacts! Attention all units! I repeat, multiple new unidentified contacts descending from high altitude! One second… There’s another contact… It’s huge! What the hell is that thing⁈”