For the citizens of the Ragna, the Pal Chimera had become an object of terror. When it moved, people on the ground would scramble to escape. Some of the Pal Chimera's crew found it amusing, but Walman remained expressionless. Or, more accurately, he was indifferent; an emotion worse than hatred or fear.
"That's probably the government district. We'll drop a Zebil there."
Giving this order, Walman lacked the imagination to realize that the people scrambling on the ground were equals to himself. He only thought about efficiently carrying out orders.
. . .
In the midst of chaos, the trio, led by Caesar reached the Capital Defense Force command center.
"Sir, I have brought Sir Caesar and Mrs. Mirkennes," Ramball reported.
Everyone inside turned to look at them. All but one wondered "Why Mirkennes too?"
The sole exception simply said, "Just in time."
And without delay, he brought up the matter.
"Lend me all the Rigels you've got."
It was too sudden even for Caesar. The Army didn't use Rigels, which were primarily designed for torpedo runs.
"We're also responsible for the lives of our soldiers. Can't just say 'sure, here you go!' Explain yourself."
"We'll use them to attack the enemy."
"I know that even without you saying it. Doing a level bombing will have the attackers shot down before dropping the bombs."
"Not like that."
"Those planes can't do dive bombings."
"Not that either. They will drop the bomb as they climb."
When everyone present was dumbfounded, Siegs showed a photograph of a tracer round's trajectory.
"This the trajectory that passed directly under the enemy. The beginning and end trajectories are parabolic, but it went straight in the middle."
Caesar took the photo from Siegs, with Mirkennes and Ramball peering from his sides. There were straight lines drawn over the trajectory in the photo, following it as if tracing the path. Just as Siegs had said, the trajectory of the tracer round perfectly overlapped with a straight line in the middle.
"What are you trying to say?"
Cesar thought it would be quicker to ask Siegs than to figure it out himself. The situation was critical.
"The gravity is nonexistent directly underneath that thing. It's in zero gravity."
Caesar resisted the urge to call him bullshit or ask why. Siegs shouldn't know the reason why; he was just stating facts obtained through experimentation and observation.
"So the wheel isn't falling because it isn't affected by the gravity? And?" Mirkennes prompted for more information.
"The Rigels are going to fly under it and drop the bombs. Once they're in zero gravity, the lift will naturally make the nose point upward. The lack of gravity means that the plane's apparent climb would require no energy. Even Rigels can do a vertical climb. After climbing, confirm the trajectory with the forward machine guns, jettison the payload if those hit the target, and the Rigels can safely retreat."
Caesar understood in an instant, while Mirkennes needed a few seconds. However, most of those present found it challenging to comprehend.
"Even so, it's a daunting task to hit it if it keeps moving," Caesar countered.
"It stayed still when dropping the bombs. We'll aim for that timing."
"What if the wheel doesn't stop?"
Now Mirkennes asked.
"Keep chasing in low-altitude flight until it stops. If we can make it give up dropping bombs, the defense of the Imperial Capital will be a success."
That's right. Purely considering defense, there's no need to shoot down the Pal Chimera. The winning condition only requires it to stop dropping the Zebils.
"Why does it have to be the Rigels?"
Caesar had a guess but asked Siegs to confirm.
"The Sirius won't work. Pilots accustomed to dive bombing tend to subconsciously assume a parabola and adjust their aim. The Rigel can carry 800-kilogram bombs and can catch up with it even at cruising speed. The Vega is too large to keep up with the maneuvering."
Siegs' answer matched Caesar's expectations.
"Alright. I'll entrust the command of the Rigels from the Judgment Force to you, Siegs," Mirkennes responded before Caesar. Even though he thought it was unnecessary, Caesar also gave his answer.
"Let's prepare the Rigels from the Main Fleet."
At that moment, a second tremor struck everyone, shaking the entire building.
"Where is it!?" Siegs shouted. After a short pause, a soldier who had been making calls to various places answered.
"It's in the central administrative district, sir!"
The core of the government had been obliterated. Some were undoubtedly shocked. The Army and Navy Ministries were once located there but had been relocated for security reasons. However, the Three Generals of the Empire remained unshaken.
"Will it be here next time? Or is it the Imperial Palace? We must hurry."
Caesar deliberately uttered ominous words. It was a manifestation of his sense of urgency.
"Why can't they just drop the Parliament?"
Mirkennes' line was simply being an asshole.
That was their parting greeting. To fulfill their promise, the two rushed off to their respective workplaces.
. . .
The two's predictions (?) were off the mark. The Pal Chimera began bombing the outskirts of the industrial zone. While this was undoubtedly a serious situation, it bought them valuable time. The Rigel squadron from the Judgment Force led by Corisdor took to the skies a bit earlier than their counterparts from the Navy's Home Fleet. Given the unusual nature of the orders, they contacted the Capital Defense Force with some skepticism. In response, the leading Antares Mk. 2 quickly came to them.
"This is Cunningham of the Capital Defense Force."
"This is Corisdor of the Judgment Force. Whether it's heaven or hell, we need directions."
"That depends on your skills."
A third flash and explosion erupted in the industrial zone.
"Fuck, another one!" Cunningham cursed, but he wasn't the only one expressing frustration.
. . .
Walman looked down at the burning factories.
"It's not spreading as much as I thought."
Without knowing it, he made a choice that would shape their fate.
"Let's drop another one on the industrial zone."
Following Walman's decision, the Pal Chimera 1 began to move.
. . .
"This is the Capital Defense Force command center, reporting the enemy's latest position."
Information was relayed from the ground. Corisdor's squadron set its course based on it, followed by Cunningham's unit. Even from the ground, seeing a real torpedo attack gave Cunningham chills (the rumor that the Navy's pilots have more skill isn't entirely unfounded).
"Confirm the bombing procedure."
While Cunningham was still surprised, Corisdor began coordinating with his formation.
"First we dive directly under the target. The gravity will disappear and the nose will naturally point upward. When the target is in front of you, confirm the trajectory with the forward machine guns. If the bullets hit the target, jettison the bomb. Then pull back on the control stick to retreat. When gravity returns, you'll be flying inverted, so roll the plane to complete an Immelmann turn. Then go full speed and get out of there. Is that clear?"
"Understood."
"Target altitude is 200 meters, and at the Rigel's cruising speed, it will take less than 3 seconds to reach. Aim within 2 seconds of the nose starting to rise, and release the bomb. If you hesitate, you'll end up crashing into the target with the bomb."
This was no longer aerobatics; it was more like a stunt. Cunningham gained a newfound respect for Rigel pilots.
A transmission suddenly came in. "This is the Navy's Home Fleet air wing. We'll let you have the first blood, but we'll take the second. Take it easy."
"Same to you, don't bitch about it if you get to do nothing."
Territorial disputes weren't limited to just the Army and Navy. It seemed that the Judgment Force also had some conflict with the Navy. For some reason, it brought a smile to Cunningham's face.
. . .
The Pal Chimera moved over the industrial zone.
"This should be a good spot. Halt."
Upon Walman's order, the Pal Chimera came to a stop.
"Use the Zebil."
Once again, the Pal Chimera emitted a low growl. The radar officer then reported. "New radar contacts. Multiple enemies are hugging the ground toward us. Speed approximately 140 knots."
Walman hesitated. Should they abort dropping the Zebil and intercept the enemy, or should they proceed?
"Continue."
That was Walman's decision. So far, he had ignored aircraft flying at lower altitudes than him as they posed no threat. If they were skimming the ground, they could be swept away with the Zebil. This way, they could avoid firing the 15 cm guns and conserve precious liquid magic stones. That was his rationale. Of course, this was wishful thinking (optimism with no basis for realization), and for a professional military officer, it was an option that would never be considered.
. . .
Leading the formation, Corisdor saw a part of the Pal Chimera's central underside section opening. It was clear they intended to drop bombs.
"Hurry up!" he shouted unconsciously.
Compared to other tactical aircraft, the Rigel felt even slower. However, as they got closer, the Pal Chimera grew increasingly larger. Could they confront something this massive? Such doubts grew, but they desperately held them back. The scenery in front of them changed. The city's skyline was dropping below. The nose was rising without any input. Corisdor lightly pulled the control stick, bringing the sight of the Pal Chimera to the front. Then, he pushed the control stick back and maintained that position.
The Pal Chimera continued to grow. The urge to flee intensified, but Corisdor suppressed it and fired the forward machine guns. The blue, intense veil of the enemy slightly rippled.
"Drop it, now!" Corisdor ordered, and his wingmen in the rear released the 800 kg bombs. Confirming the sound, Corisdor pulled the control stick with all his might and opened the throttle to the maximum. The engine and the aircraft screamed. He prayed they could endure it somehow.
Suddenly, he felt a rush of blood to his head. Gravity had returned. He hastily pushed the control stick forward, leveling the aircraft. Then, he rolled, transitioning from inverted flight to normal flight. After maneuvering Rigel as if it were a fighter, Corisdor finally looked back.
. . .
Cunningham had been watching the whole process. The six aircraft of Corisdor's squadron ascended vertically beneath the Pal Chimera and tossed their payload. While four bombs missed, including the ones released by Corisdor's plane, two hit the Pal Chimera in the center.
The enemy erupted in a massive explosion. One of the 800 kg bombs entered the Zebil bomb bay and exploded inside, causing all three remaining bombs to detonate. Additionally, a chain reaction reached the liquid magic stones, causing the Pal Chimera 1 to burst from the inside.
. . .
The shockwave almost threw Cunningham off balance, but he somehow managed to rein his plane. Once the blast settled, he looked around, but the thick smoke hindered visibility.
"This is Cunningham. Corisdor squadron, respond."
Cunningham tried calling through the radio, but there was no response.
"This is Cunningham. Corisdor squadron, respond."
It was at this moment that he thought they might be wiped out.
"...This is Corisdor. Cunningham, can you hear me?"
Cunningham pressed the button. "I hear you. What's your position?"
"Probably below you on your right."
Cunningham lightly banked the aircraft to the right and looked down. A battered Rigel was flying there.
"Any response from other planes?"
"Not yet."
"I see."
An awkward silence ensued.
"My plane's damaged and won't be able to fly for much longer. Requesting emergency landing at the Capital Defense Force airbase."
"This is the commander of the Capital Defense Force Air Wing. We will gladly welcome your plane. Cunningham, make sure to provide an escort."
"Understood."
With Cunningham's plane leading the way, Corisdor's plane landed at the Capital Defense Force airbase.