The Salvation War: Pantheocide. Part Forty One Up

[Stuart]

In the RAF the Tornado has been alternatively known as both the Tonka and the Electric Flick Knife. I believe that early in its career the C-17A was known as the Buddha because it was big, fat and sat around all day doing nothing, while being worshiped by thousands.
I thought that the Pig was the Aussie nickname for the F-111 and that it was known as the Aardvark, or Vark (as in Spark Vark) for short, in America?

Pig is indeed Australian for the F-111, the USAF term was Aardvark (Sparkvark for the EF-111). Also Rampvac for its habit of sucking in anything and everything. C-17 is the Big Mac because its fat, greasy and costs too much.

[Simon_Jester]

Must be something other than Blackbird, or a typo. 2870 knots is about 3300mph, and even at the 750mph/Mach of sea level that works out as about 4.4, a bit fast for an SR-71. at about 95,000ft this has lowered to about 670mph/Mach which gives us about Mach 4.9, much to fast for a Blackbird, but still a little below Aurora's theorized Mach 6.

Mach 4.4 at sea level is ridiculously fast for a Blackbird; in such dense air the airframe will go slower, not faster. Mach 4 at altitude might be possible, though no one ever claimed it. I don't know enough to be sure.

so I'm going with typo unless Stuart says different.

I'm going with "classified hypersonic aircraft," because context makes it clear that these kinds of flights happen fairly often, come from the area where the US maintains its top secret aircraft projects, and that they officially "do not exist." The existence of Blackbirds is not a secret.

Yes. The intelligence of an act is not judged by righteousness, but by the odds of getting what was aimed for.

Well, I wouldn't sneer at them for doing something they had to know wouldn't defeat the regime, but I understand quite clearly why you did.

[Samuel]

Well, I wouldn't sneer at them for doing something they had to know wouldn't defeat the regime, but I understand quite clearly why you did.

Given there were people who managed to do things that actually made a difference (hide the jews, spy for the allies, sabotage defenses, work with resistance)...

[Stuart]

Eucalyptus Hills, East of Santee, California

Uriel was stunned by the realization that the humans beneath him were fighting back. His mind and body were aching with the effort of keeping the pressure on them, fulfilling his eternal mission of blotting out their lives and snatching way their souls. And yet they were fighting back, defying him by keeping on living. Beneath the shelter of their shields, they were defying the Sword and Scythe of The One Above All. Even worse, Uriel could sense animals in there with them and they were fighting back too, as if they were following the lead of the humans and defying the judgment of the Great Father Above All. It was beyond Uriel’s understanding, the humans had brought their animals in under cover with them, their love for their pets exceeded their duty of obedience by a margin that Uriel couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

He was tiring, the need to continue his assault, maintain the effort to wipe out those beneath him, was already draining his last reserves of strength. He had never fought this way before, in the past his merest touch had been enough to drop the humans in their tracks before they even realized their time had come. Those days were long past and over South America and Mexico, he had sensed resistance, felt the effects of the shielding every human seemed to have. But this, this was different. The shields were much stronger and the time taken to push through them had allowed the humans below to prepare for the assault. They were refusing to die and , to Uriel, that was a thing beyond understanding.

The human resistance may have been beyond Uriel’s ability to comprehend but what happened to him next was all too familiar. His skin started to irritate, to itch madly with pains that jabbed deep into his skin. He knew what that meant, the humans were on to him and were tracking him. He looked down to see if any of the missiles that they loved so much were coming his way. That was Uriel’s first mistake. If he’d invested in a copy of World Naval Weapons, he would have looked up, not down. But he had never read a human book and the idea of looking up never occurred to him.

USS Normandy, CG-60, Off San Diego, California, Earth

Annette Serafina played the radar controls in front of her, manipulating the systems at her command, her electronic fingers reaching out through the darkness to find the monster who was trying to slaughter her people. “Got him! We have SPS-49 contact, tracking now. Sir, how about some music down here?”

“On its way.” Pelranius thought for a second and got the channel to the Comms Suite. “Put on Mars, The Bringer of War, Gustav Holst.”

Serafina listened to the opening bars while her computers established the target track. “Good choice, Sir.” SPS-49 operating full power. Hope there was nothing good on television over at Sunny Dee.”

Captain Pelranius nodded. The SPS-49 had a peak transmission output power of 2,400 kW. Once, when a cruiser had accidentally gone to full transmit power off Norfolk, it had blacked out television reception in Newport News and interfered with radio as far inland as Richmond. The incident coming to mind jogged his memory, there was a vital duty he had to perform. He took a key, inserted it in a slot on the console and turned it. “Senior Chief Serafina, I am authorizing you to utilize full war emergency power on the SPY-1.”

“Very good Sir.” Her voice was neutral, despite the implications of the words she had just heard. Even if she hadn’t been aware of them, the rumbling under her feet as the ship’s four LM-2500 gas turbines picked up speed and started to generate more electrical power would have told her. “I have Uriel locked in using the Spoogs. We’ll track using SPS-49 and designate with SPY-1. Firing RIM-156 now.”

The ship started to shake as the first of the salvo of RIM-156 anti-aircraft missiles left the silos. Within a second, four missiles were arching up from the ship, heading northwest towards the town of Eucalyptus Hills.

“I hope Uriel doesn’t see them and get behind the ridgeline again.” Pelranius looked at the air warfare crew and picked up a slight note of disdain that surprised him. What had he said?

“Won’t save him Sir. The 156s are on their way now and they have active terminal radar homing. All we have to do is get them into the acquisition basket and they’ll do the rest. They’ll even relay their radar pictures back to us to tell us what they’re doing.” Serafina dropped her voice to confidential levels. “ Don’t worry Sir, everybody makes that mistake, assuming we can’t hit a target that’s over the radar horizon. Been times when that was the last mistake they ever made.”

In an educational video, seen from above, Normandy would have looked as if she was surrounded by four great fans of radar energy from the planar arrays of the SPY-1 system. Then, as Serafina’s expert fingers played the controls and switched the system from surveillance to target designation mode, the fans started to split into narrow beams that coalesced into thin lines. Then, the lines started to merge as she combined their output into a single beam per face.

“How much power are you pushing down that beam?” Pelranius’s voice was awed.

“All of it, all our generators can give us.” Serafina’s voice was still neutral. The pencil beam she was generating was capable of tracking an object two feet across at a range of far over a thousand nautical miles and detecting the tiny variations in its trajectory caused be variations in earth’s gravity. At under a hundred miles, the power of that beam was ferocious. The textbooks said SPY-1 had a peak power output of 4,000 kW, a figure that caused great amusement to the AEGIS community. It was true enough, or had been in the days of a prototype system on board the old Norton Sound. Now, it was long obsolete, far surpassed by that of later versions, and that had been before the key had been turned to enable war emergency power. The target designation beam of an SPY-1 was a powerful weapon in its own right.

Home of Caroline Howarth, Eucalyptus Hills, California.

Caroline Howarth sat, curled up in the center of her refuge room, her arms around the dog beside her. She was tired, exhausted by the effort of keeping her body working against the constant assault of blackness that was trying to shut her down. She was frightened, terrified even for she knew she was just buying time. The blackness was spreading, it was getting more difficult to breath and her head ached from the effort of keeping her heart beating. She looked at Rex, saw the misery and exhaustion in his eyes, saw the long strings of drool running from his mouth. She squeezed him gently, encouragingly, to reassure him that they would win this one. All they had to do was hang on long enough, until the Air Force or the Navy got help here.

Beside her, Rex’s whole body ached with the effort he was making. It was all so very hard to understand, there was something out there that wanted him and his human to die but it wouldn’t come in and fight like a dog. It just hung around outside and tried to squeeze the life out of them. He could feel his human weakening, feel her body running out of reserves of strength. Carefully, using as little of his remaining reserves as he could, he licked her face, trying to transfer some of what little energy he had left into her. Then, as if responding to his gesture, he felt a tiny weakening in the pressure that was killing them. They were winning, they were outlasting the thing outside. Then, he heard thunder in the skies overhead and the pressure was gone.

Eucalyptus Hills, East of Santee, California

The burning irritation of his skin had reached almost unendurable levels but Uriel couldn’t see any of the missiles coming in at him. Nor were there any aircraft coming in to the attack. It was all very, very confusing. For the first time, Uriel was actually beginning to hate the humans who were causing him this trouble. Why couldn’t they just die the way they were supposed to? That was when the burning pain on the top of his body told him that he was in the worst danger of his life.

Uriel never stood a chance of evading the RIM-156 missiles that were streaking down upon him from above. They had tipped over at 150,000 feet and were now heading down in a Mach 6 dive . Their radar sets were fully active and they had locked on to the figure below them. They didn’t need designation any more, They had Uriel in their sights and they were going to blow him up. Uriel barely had a chance to register their presence before they exploded around him.
The only thing that saved Uriel’s life was that the missiles had proximity fuzes. He was a big angel and the computers in the fuzes calculated distances based on that. He also had a large radar image and that increased the distance away from him that the missiles detonated. Finally, he was slow, and the RIM-156 was designed to handle supersonic and hypersonic targets. The fuze simply wasn’t programmed for a target that moved at Uriel’s speed. None of those factors would have saved Uriel on their own, but put together, they just about made the difference between a living angel and a dead one.

Uriel screamed as the tungsten carbide fragments slashed into his body. They ripped into his skin, splattering silver blood into the air, tore at his wings, shredding the flying surfaces and cracking the bones open. His vision suddenly shrank as fragments tore out one of his eyes and scoured across his body. He staggered in the air, hurt worse than had ever happened to him before. Not even in the Great Celestial War had he taken punishment like this. He started to drop, frantically beating the sky with his injured wings in an effort to avoid plummeting to the ground. He knew that his attack on the people below had ended, that those that had not died would live. He had used too much of his strength, he was too badly injured to start the assault again. He would have to escape, retreat to heaven and heal his wounds. Above all, he would have to speak with his friend Michael-Lan who knew humans better than any other angel. Michael-Lan would help him, Michael-Lan would give him wise counsel. He desperately tried to form the portal that would allow him to escape but something disrupted his efforts. The air itself seemed to be crackling round him, swamping his efforts to open an escape route.

That was when something happened that was far beyond his comprehension. He was used to the burning pain of the humans, used to it inflaming and irritating his skin but what happened next was truly horrifying. The pain suddenly soared up, far beyond anything he had experienced to date. He looked down and to his horror saw the skin on his chest and side was burning. Then, he realized, that was wrong, he wasn’t burning, he was being roasted alive in mid-air. His skin was bubbling and peeling, the flesh beneath it turning brown, the fat running down his body as it melted. Uriel screamed and twisted, howling in demented agony, knowing that with this weapon, whatever it was, humans had finally far surpassed the late and unlamented Satan in the ability to create sheer, undiluted horror. Uriel lost his battle to stay airborne and fell out of the sky.

USS Normandy, CG-60, Off San Diego, California, Earth

“We got him!” Serafina’s triumphant cheer swept through the Pit, bringing the AAW crew to their feet, howling with delight. “All four 156s, they went off all around him. He’s toast!” The Pit descended into a chaos of backslapping and high-fives.

“Can we confirm that?” Pelranius was loath to put a damper on the celebrations but he had done a tour in Hell and he knew how hard these Netherworld creatures were to kill. If the stories were true, Uriel was one of the top-ranking Archangels in Heaven. If they were anything like as tough as the Archdukes…. Asmodeus had been blown up by a ton of C4, his head riddled with bullets from a .50 rifle and he had still needed a salvo of AT-4 anti-tank rockets to finish him. Beelzebub, hit by two Mavericks and riddled with 30mm fire from two Warthogs, Deumos, her brains scrambled and her body fried by rocket exhausts, Satan himself, two massive shaped charges to the chest and head. Uriel was in that league and Pelranius really doubted if four RIM-156s would be enough to do the job.

“Damn, no!” The cry of disappointment was heart-felt. “He’s still flying. Designating with SPY-1 now.”

Serafina flipped the designation beam she had formed up to maximum power, sub-consciously noting the rumbling turbines below her, and locked it in on Uriel. Almost immediately the creature started to writhe in mid-air then lost control of itself and started to fall. The pencil-beam tracked him down to where the ridgeline provided a radar horizon with dead ground beyond it. Serafina thumped in the control inputs and four RIM-174s exploded from the aft launch silo, heading out for the location Uriel was heading into. They were faster and longer-ranged than the RIM-156s and their terminal radar homing was optimized to pick up and track low-flying targets in highly-cluttered backgrounds. As Uriel fell, the SPY-1 beam tracked him down. On the way, it intercepted some power lines stretched along the ridge and destroyed them in a spectacular display of electrical flashes and the showering cascade caused by melting wire and blown insulators.

Home of Caroline Howarth, Eucalyptus Hills, California.

It was gone, it was over. She and Rex had survived. The blackness had vanished with the rolling thunder of the explosions overhead. They had to be missiles, just had to be. Either the Army or the Navy had come to the rescue and driven Uriel away. Air was flowing into her lungs again, without the dreadful effort to suck it in and force it out. She could sense blood flowing through her arteries and veins, bringing oxygen and life back to her body. Slowly, shakily, she got up, her legs reluctant to support her, and looked around her room. Then, she lost her balance and fell as there were another series of explosions from north of the township. They shook the floor, sending dust falling from the ceiling. A moment later there was a screaming noise that she guessed was the sound of the inbound missiles.

She turned around, fearing that Rex hadn’t made it, but the dog was stretched out on the floor, panting for air. Alive. She took a closer look, there was blood around his muzzle but he seemed to be all right. Then she looked closer, some of the brown and black hairs had turned gray. She stood up and went over to the silver foil that lined the walls. It wasn’t a good mirror but she could see there were thin lines, crow’s feet, around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before and the luster of her black hair had dulled and been tinged with gray.

She was alive, and it seemed that the scars of the battle were a small price to pay for that. She decided what she did need was a cup of tea. “Hey, Rex, you want a nice steak?” He deserved a treat.

Rex thought about that carefully. He knew that there was a leg of lamb in the refrigerator and that was what he really wanted – and had intended to steal as soon as he could work out a way to do it. But, a steak would do just fine until his human was careless enough to leave the kitchen door open.

USS Normandy, CG-60, Off San Diego, California, Earth

“He’s down, behind the ridgeline.” Serafina was reading the displays and her fingers danced over the controls. “This is Axehorn calling all aircraft. We have Uriel down behind the ridgeline north of Eucalyptus Hills, he’s hurt bad but still living we think. All aircraft converge and search.”

“We’ve got word from the DIMO(N) net. No dropped frames so no portal formed, he’s still here.”

“Wonder why he doesn’t portal out?” Pelranius was intrigued.

“Sir, have you any idea how much energy we’re pumping out? I doubt if there’s a television left unexploded in South California. Just a guess, but I think we’re jamming him.”

“What about the aircraft closing in? Won’t they be at risk?”

“Not on surveillance mode and I’ve got the designation beams turned off. We can flip back to war mode in seconds if we need it.”

“Axehorn, this is CAP-Three- One-One I’m heading for Eucalyptus Hills now. Intend to stay below flight level ten. Please advise fast movers to stay above that.”

“Will do CAP-Three-One-One.”

There was a bleep and the special channel activated. “Axehorn, this is Habu-zero-one. I’m turning round to come back in. Require clearance on flight and speed.”

“Habu-zero-one, your choice, up where you are, nobody else can go.”

“Nice of you to say so Axehorn. Be advised I’ll have sideways-looking radar on. If something’s big and nasty down there I’ll spot it. What did you do to Uriel?”

“Whacked him with four RIM-156s and four 174s then fried him with a full-power designation beam.”

“Ohhh nasty. Well done Axehorn. Habu-Zero-One out.”

“Another conversation that never happened.” Pelranius spoke heavily.

“Exactly.” Serafina smiled at him and mouthed very quietly, “Aurora.”

Home of Caroline Howarth, Eucalyptus Hills, California.

Everything was out, radio, television, cellphones. Caroline Howarth had given up her landline telephone and used a cell phone for all her calls, now she bitterly regretted doing so. Her computer was down as well, and, looking out of the window she could see that Santee was blacked out. North of the town, helicopters were already searching the ridges and valleys while a light aircraft circled, hunting further out.

There was a banging at the door. Rex ran across and barked at the intruder, itching for a fight he could get his teeth into. She grabbed his collar and opened the door. A National Guard soldier was standing there, a clipboard in his hands.

“Whoa, old feller, I’m a friend. Miss Caroline Howarth?” He looked at the list, it said the registered owner of the house was 32 years old, this woman looked like a well-preserved fifty. “I’m sorry, is she your daughter?”

She shook her head. “I’m her. And Rex is four years old.” Then she saw the look on his face and it made her laugh, a laugh that turned into a cough. One that left speckles of blood on her hand. “You don’t fight the Angel of Death to a draw and walk away unscarred.”

[Setzer]

But she faced the angel of Death, and She's still alive.
That was a triumph. I'm making a note here, huge success. It's hard to overstate my satisfaction

[Jim Starluck]

You know... I've been pondering something for awhile.

The "lie down and die" part of The Message... could that have been at all similar to what Uriel does? Only on a global scale, and not quite as immediate?



Also: Great chapter! I loved the "wouldn't come in and fight like a dog" line.

[Baughn]

Aging does not work that way. I could see there being after-effects, but nothing that immediate; there just wasn't enough time for such drastic large-scale changes.

It was awesome, though.

[The Vortex Empire]

Excellent chapter! I still love the parts from Rex's point of view.

So Uriel is either dead or heavily injured, in severe pain and soon to be dead. I can work with that.

[Kodiak]

Aging does not work that way. I could see there being after-effects, but nothing that immediate; there just wasn't enough time for such drastic large-scale changes.

I think we can safely say that this is another example of what we know about something getting tossed out the window

[PhilosopherOfSorts]

Yeah, that's right, cook that sumbitch, I wanna find out what he tastes like

[bobnik]

Aging does not work that way. I could see there being after-effects, but nothing that immediate; there just wasn't enough time for such drastic large-scale changes.

I think we can safely say that this is another example of what we know about something getting tossed out the window

I'm with Kodiak. I don't think we've had may angels using electromagnetic quantum entangling telepathy to surpress autonomic functions around here, so the effects could be anything. Besides which, it doesn't have to be actual aging - various medical conditions, stressful lifestyles and prolonged exposure to harsh climates can make people look older than they really are.

But she faced the angel of Death, and She's still alive.
That was a triumph. I'm making a note here, huge success. It's hard to overstate my satisfaction

And the pets haven't died, and the angel got fried, and all the people are all still alive!

[Darth Yan]

Awesome chapter, but what happens to Uriel now? Do they simply finish him off, or do they capture him? PS Loved the doggy's POV

[Gil Hamilton]

What happens to Uriel now is Rex hunts down the sumbitch and eats his head. Rotties are good and surprisingly bright dogs, but I'm surprised Uriel's downfall wasn't a mystery. With Mrs. Hawthorn coming upon Rex next to an open window, pushing a hunting rifle under the sofa with his back paw and assuming his best "I is justa dumb dog, massa" face.

[Stuart]

Aging does not work that way. I could see there being after-effects, but nothing that immediate; there just wasn't enough time for such drastic large-scale changes.

Not genuine ageing but one can get equivalent effects very fast. One feels five years older just by getting into a Buick. I aged about the same amount riding with a friend of mine in an Army jeep through the Bangkok rush-hour (in fact, I think I aged about that much time when she was driving on the sidewalk let alone the rest of the trip.) I've seen people coming out of harrowing meetings looking ten years older than they went in.

Chapter 27 in Armageddon also refers.

[Darth Fanboy]

You're acting as if some fucking government bureau got together and held meetings and then decided upon this nickname, when it was almost certainly a grass-roots product of the people in the military or perhaps even the general population.

I only bring it up because I think it actually cheapens the advances made by humanity previous story, and thus the overall story being told. I don't think i'm the only one who will say that one of the few flaws in this otherwise brilliant piece of fiction is that the conflict has been too one-sided in humanity's favor. I've already acknowledged that its my personal speculation and opinion and if such criticism is unwanted or unwelcome I'll apologize.

[Darth Fanboy]

Why do you presume everything gets decided by the Government?

It's not decided by the government, it's decided by the author of the story in this case. I was just trying to figure out your rationale is all because I did not understand the decision at all.

[Land Phish]

Stuart, you keep throwing in those moments where mankind rises up and says "No, I think I'll decide my own existance thank you very much", and I'll just keep on loving your work.

[Bayonet]

He knew that there was a leg of lamb in the refrigerator and that was what he really wanted – and had intended to steal as soon as he could work out a way to do it.

LOL! Gotta love 'em!

Thanks.

[CaptainChewbacca]

I wonder if Uriel is going to be locked inside a faraday cage in some dark corner of New England, to be interrogated.

[Eulogy]

Aging does not work that way. I could see there being after-effects, but nothing that immediate; there just wasn't enough time for such drastic large-scale changes.

Not genuine ageing but one can get equivalent effects very fast. One feels five years older just by getting into a Buick. I aged about the same amount riding with a friend of mine in an Army jeep through the Bangkok rush-hour (in fact, I think I aged about that much time when she was driving on the sidewalk let alone the rest of the trip.) I've seen people coming out of harrowing meetings looking ten years older than they went in.

Chapter 27 in Armageddon also refers.

So in other words, the effect is only temporary, and both Caroline and Rex will start looking their true ages soon enough.

[Ilya Muromets]

I wonder if Uriel is going to be locked inside a faraday cage in some dark corner of New England, to be interrogated.

Provided they don't finish him off, I'm sure this will be his fate. I'm sure DIMO(N) would like to have a go at him since I imagine a major angel is gonna be useful for answering certain questions. Wonder what ol' Uriel is gonna think about being a prisoner of humanity.

And it seems Habu-Zero-One has been outed as an Aurora, as previous posters have speculated. Then again, it is from a smug but silent proclamation of a character so it may be intended as open-ended.

[Siege]

The last two chaoters were probably the best of Pantheocide yet as far as I'm concerned. You gotta love the angel-frying radar... That son of a bitch Uriel finally got what was coming to him.

[Baughn]

So in other words, the effect is only temporary, and both Caroline and Rex will start looking their true ages soon enough.

I very much doubt that.

A car ride (Yukari? -_-) or meeting causing someone to "look ten years older" is merely a figure of speech; they don't actually look ten years older, they just look really stressed out.

Meanwhile, in this case Caroline and Rex have apparently gained instant wrinkles and gray hairs..

...which makes no sense at all. Both of these take quite a lot of time to develop; even if Uriel's attack affected the follicles, there is no conceivable reason why it would also affect the hair. It might grow in grey afterwards, but unless you're willing to propose that it also affected loose hair, wigs and probably house paint, there's no reason it should have this sort of instant effect.

Wrinkles are even worse. Yes, it's one of the major signs of aging, but it takes a long time for regeneration of skin around damaged collagen cells to create them; in this case, Uriel's attack would have had to induce unphysically quick regeneration (recall, we're not in hell) to do it.

So you see.. I can accept the awesomeness of last chapter, but the "wrinkles and gray hair" bit is best ignored. It wouldn't, couldn't happen.

[Buritot]

I wonder if Uriel is going to be locked inside a faraday cage in some dark corner of New England, to be interrogated.

I doubt that. Uriel is devastating on a scale unprecedented. Albeit his ability can be dampened by tinfoil and in extension a faraday cage, it would be suicidal to put him on detention even close to population centers. The San Diego area was aware of an impeding attack, which played a major role in its populace' capability to resist Uriels Urging. New England would be aware of Uriel (or more likely not), but as time went on lesser prepared to fight it.
The more likely location would be some distant island,, or the midwest, or Siberia, in a room surrounded by copper and explosives. At first the only contact would be via videoscreen with operators in a safe distance and only after some time spent interrogating and building trust people would be allowed closer to him.
These precautions are necessary due to his power. We don't know the casualty rate of his latest coup; his victims had the best protection yet, but it was also his most concentrated effort/area where he fought resistance. Now imagine he concentrated his power on only a few humans nearby - unless being tested on we can't say he wouldn't succeed. For all I know Uriel is booking the highest body count, if you take his constant killing prior to The Message into account.

Out of curiosity, why New England?

Aging does not work that way. I could see there being after-effects, but nothing that immediate; there just wasn't enough time for such drastic large-scale changes.

I know it, you know it, now we'll have some fun with it. How could we make it appear as such? Let resisting Uriel burn a lot of energy and make his victims weary and depleted on an unprecedented scale. You've got baggy eyes, the roots of your hair start greying (visible after a few days) and you're making faces subconsiously while fighting back the urge to die.The lines of these may not etch forever but would probably last a few moments to hours to at least the time you can start to relax.

[Simon_Jester]

USS Normandy, CG-60, Off San Diego, California, Earth

Annette Serafina played the radar controls in front of her, manipulating the systems at her command, her electronic fingers reaching out through the darkness to find the monster who was trying to slaughter her people. “Got him! We have SPS-48 contact, tracking now. Sir, how about some music down here?”

“On its way.” Pelranius thought for a second and got the channel to the Comms Suite. “Put on Mars, The Bringer of War, Gustav Holst.”

Very suitable. The captain may not have been fully briefed on all his hardware yet (which seems damned weird if you ask me), but I think he's got the right general instincts.

“All of it, all our generators can give us.” Serafina’s voice was still neutral. The pencil beam she was generating was capable of tracking an object two feet across at a range of far over a thousand nautical miles and detecting the tiny variations in its trajectory caused be variations in earth’s gravity. At under a hundred miles, the power of that beam was ferocious. The textbooks said SPY-1 had a peak power output of 4,000 kW, a figure that caused great amusement to the AEGIS community. It was true enough, or had been in the days of a prototype system on board the old Norton Sound. Now, it was long obsolete, far surpassed by that of later versions, and that had been before the key had been turned to enable war emergency power. The target designation beam of an SPY-1 was a powerful weapon in its own right.

At what... 300 or 400 watts per square meter, at range? I'm a little skeptical that you'd get that effect even at a power level orders of magnitude greater than the 'official' numbers... over time, but... unless they tune it to the 2.5 GHz band and start exciting water molecules, at which point... OW. OK. Yeah, that would work.

As I see it, the limiting factor for weaponization potential is that the beam has to be wide enough to track targets efficiently; depending on how fast you can correct for evasive maneuvers, that puts a lower bound on its minimum width... and the weapon potential is going down with the square of the width.