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Chapter 389 Yeet.

All of them, active duty and volunteer alike, were in the air like a swarm of bees as they awaited the arrival of the EV Beowulf. Not that it would do much good, really, considering that the Beowulf had a much higher flight ceiling and cruising altitude than any current-generation aircraft, whether military or civilian. Even the vaunted Dragon Lady could only reach a cruising altitude of around 21 kilometers, a far cry from the Beowulf’s 60.

Still, they would pose an issue to the invasion forces that would be dropped in California, so the order was passed down for the Beowulf to take them down.

Sprinkled across the Beowulf’s sides and belly were dozens of Mk. XIV Titan’s Wrath cannons, hundred-meter-long guns with a barrel diameter of 96 inches, mounted on massive gimbals that would allow them to freely rotate in three dimensions. Designed for use while the carrier was in flight, they had a host of options available to them, yet none of them applied—the guns were simply too strong!

The ship’s AI had three current orders:

First, to limit civilian casualties and collateral damage as much as possible. Aron was adamant in his interpretation of “human resources” and would allow no avoidable waste of any of Earth’s resources; all would be needed in the years to come.

Second, to ensure the safe delivery of the Beowulf’s complement of troops to their designated combat zones. This was the order the AI was operating under when it alerted the captain that she had detected armed aircraft.

And third, to take out any valid military target along the way through whatever means were appropriate. The key word in this standing order was “appropriate”. Firing a Titan’s Wrath at a fighter jet, especially from above, was rather... inappropriate. Without taking into account the collateral damage and potential civilian casualties, it would still be akin to using an old Civil War–era sixteen-pound cannon to kill a single gnat that was buzzing around your ear.

Considering her three standing orders, the Beowulf mused over her options for three nanoseconds, then decided that the Metalstorm was the most appropriate response.

[Captain, I have detected incoming combat aircraft,] she announced on the bridge. [Request permission to assume control of anti-air weapons designated ‘Metalstorm’.]

“Granted, Beowulf. Happy hunting,” the captain replied.

[Thank you, sir. Estimated time of operation: twelve seconds... eleven... ten... nine....]

As the countdown continued on the bridge, Metalstorms emerged from hidden hatches on the carrier’s hull, and the main guns were retracted into hidden hatches of their own. The gimbal-mounted anti-air and point defense weapons swiveled around, each tracking individual targets. They opened fire, and then... there was no then.

Every military aircraft stationed in Southern California, along with the civilian volunteers, ceased to exist when met with thousands of 30mm rounds fired from a weapon that should not exist on Earth, yet did.

[Operation complete, captain. Returning control to weapons.]

“Thank you, Beowulf.”

[You’re welcome, sir.]

The captain crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, then took a sip of his coffee and asked, “How long to the drop zone, helm?”

“ETA ten minutes to drop zone one, captain,” the helmsman replied.

“Good. I anticipate a smooth drop. Comms, sound the ten minute alert in the training simulation for the designated troops.”

“Aye, sir. Alert sent.”

......

The Beowulf reached her first drop zone over Los Angeles in Griffith Park and a hatch opened on the side of her topmost transport deck. A mechanical arm reached out of it, carrying four ARES drop vehicles, each of which contained ten troopers. The arm bent upward, then accelerated down, hurling the drop vehicles at their target location at an incredible velocity.

The scientists in Lab City called the drop vehicles the Mk VII Thunderhammer Aerial Assault Lander. But the troops? The troops had a much simpler name for them.

Yeet pods.

A soldier that lacked a dry sense of humor couldn’t really be called a soldier at all, really. And ARES troopers were nothing if not soldiers.

......

After the four yeet pods were released over Los Angeles, the Beowulf made her way northeast, dropping ARES platoons across the Southwestern United States, then turned toward the Pacific Northwest, then the Midwest, the South, and all the way up to the northeastern tip of the contiguous United States in Maine.

The largest landing, though, was in North Carolina. An entire reinforced battalion of ARES troopers was dropped between Fayetteville, North Carolina, and Fort Bragg, the largest military installation in perhaps the entire world. Occupying more than 250 square miles and home to more than sixty thousand active duty combatants, plus another couple thousand Air Force personnel, Fort Bragg would be the hardest target in the entire North American continent.

Especially if the veteran population and reservists of Fayetteville were taken into account, which would add another fifty thousand or so to the tally. And being a southern state that had almost no limits on gun ownership or specific gun bans, roughly half of the households in Fayetteville could at least be called an armed civilian militia. Those highly motivated individuals would add another hundred thousand combatants to the mix.

There were, combined, a total of over a hundred thousand of America’s most elite infantrymen, regular infantry, veterans, and reservists. Add another hundred thousand civilian militia and two thousand airmen and the ARES battalion had an uphill climb ahead of them, especially since the American forces would have the home ground advantage.

And all of that was before taking into account the current worldwide panic, chaos, and looting. Rioters and looters had run rampant, and the first stores targeted by them were those that sold guns and ammunition.

It would be one hell of a first live mission for the ARES troopers to drop into.