“This is Ugly 3-2. We have entered the Red Zone. Weapons are at condition 1. Over.”

“Roger that Ugly 3-2, happy hunting. Over and out.”

The pair Eurofighter’s tore through the late evening air. Its was Flight Lieutenant Steve Hass’s first combat sortie after graduating from flight school. He struggled to settle his nerves since one twitch of the joystick at this kind of speed could prematurely end his first mission, and possibly his life.

A glance down at his radar showed no threats, but it was prone to failure in the Other Earths atmosphere. He and his wingman had to resort to peering through the haze, scanning the line of mountain like trees nestled among the planet like mountains for signs of Cult movement.

“Charlie, you see anything?” He radioed to his wingman.

“Negative, I got nothing.” was the reply.

They had received a tip-off from a Consulite spy that there was going to be a Cult patrol through this area, and it was going to be Steve and Charlie’s job to cover an ambush set by the Consulite’s, but so far they had heard nothing.

They circled the area, maintaining a high altitude to avoid detection.

Just as they were about to give up, Steve lost control of his plane. His head was throbbing, he couldn’t see anything, his mind a blur of pain. Suddenly, as quickly as it arrived, the pain left. He pulled the jet out of its downward spiral, climbing back up to his wingman’s altitude.

“Human, please respond” A voice said, inside Steve’s head. They had been warned about this before being deployed to Other Earth, it was the Consulite’s favoured form of communication, since they lacked the humans technological ability.

“This is Ugly 3-2, Human Eurofighter. What is your situation?” he thought clearly, remembering his training on this subject.

“The patrol has been spotted, due east of the fork in the river. We require your support as a distraction to enable us to cross the river to engage them. I trust that you can provide this?”

The voice we female, like all of the Consulite. It had a rich, accented sound, and was a pleasure to listen to. However, Steve didn’t have time to admire it, he had a job to do.

“Roger that, we are armed with four 2000lb bombs and two rocket pods each, will they be sufficient?”

“They will do. Please make haste, time is of the essence.”

“Ok, I need a visual confirmation of the target, where exactly is it located?”

Steve proceeded to double check the location of the patrol, and began his run in, roaring low over the tree line.

The Cultists didn’t know what hit them. The relative size of the Steve and his plane meant that he was nigh undetectable by conventional means, so the first indication the Cultists got of his presence was the large explosion that had blossomed in their midst.

The 2000lb bomb was very large by human standards, which meant that it actually had very little physical effect on the towering Cultists (Apart from the unfortunates caught within the blast who suddenly found that they were missing several limbs). The retaliation, however, was very swift. Deadly bolts of hellfire arced up from the Cultists, and Steve veered out of the way of the crude antiaircraft fire. This enabled Charlie to run in unseen from the west, dropping his first weapon onto the Cultist mages who revealed themselves by firing on Steven.

Steven then wheeled his plane around, coming in fast and low whilst the Cultists where disorientated by Charlie’s attack, dropping his last 2000lb bomb into the fray.

By this time, the Consulite forces had crossed the river, engaging the Cultists with bow and sword. Their work done, Steve and Charlie circled the battle, observing the graceful Consulite figures finish off the already weakened Cultists.

Pain lanced through Steve’s head once more, though not enough to distract him from flying.

“The Cultists flee, we shall run down and exterminate them in the forest. Thank you for the assistance friend”

Steve was about to reply, but was interrupted by what only could be described by a scream, and then;

“Flee sisters, it’s a trap, flee! Human, protect us as we cross the river, it was a tra-”

The connection was severed.

“Charlie, engage with rockets as they leave the tree line”

“Roger that Steve”

The pair began there final run from the river. Their rockets could only fell a Cultist if they were close enough, so they had to fly almost touching the water. As they neared the shore, the remaining Consulites burst from the tree’s. There numbers were much fewer than they were when Steve saw them last. They were running full pelt towards the water, grace replaced by fear as they pounded along.

Behind them emerged the Cultists. Clad is skimpy red armour (the Cultists believed that there god would protect them from harm), they chased their prey towards the water.

Steve and Charlie orientated their jets so that there could slip between the Consulites, setting there rockets to unguided since there would be little time to laze targets.

The jets sped between the huge women (both men, against their better judgment, for a split second gave into their urges, ogling the female warriors was they passed at breast height). As soon as they passed, they swerved to either side, firing rockets as they turned, creating an impressive fan effect, in order to hit as many targets as possible.

Fire bloomed on the chests of those hit, knocking most off there feet. The Cultist’s hesitated for a split second as they saw there sisters killed by the dart like human jets.

Charlie released his last 2000lb bomb as he passed over the Cultist mob, decimating part of the line. They wheeled about to make a final run at the Cultists, as the remaining Consulites dove into the water, beginning to swim back to the other shore.

Again the two jets skimmed over the river, firing the last of their rockets into the Cultists. However, this time, the Cultists were ready. Waves of hellfire met them as they passed over.

“Pull up!” Steve yelled into his radio, yanking the stick back. Charlie managed to avoid the streams of flame as he rose, but Steve wasn’t so lucky. The explosion as the jet impacted q bolt forced it into a downward spiral. Without thinking, in the haze of heat and pain, Steve ejected. He was catapulted high above the red ball that was his plane. The G forces knocked him unconscious for a few seconds, and when he awoke, he was drifting down towards the forest. Through a gap in the leaves he fell, before being jerked to a halt as his parachute snagged on a branch.

He was left hanging loosely, high above the forest floor. He hung there for a minute, in shocked silence. Around him, the forest was quiet. The leaves rustled in the slight wind. Steve then noticed a figure, lying in the centre of the clearing his was hanging on the edge of. It was clad in leather, long pointed ears broke through the flow of bright brown hair. The gold star with a triangle in the middle on her back marked her as one of the Consulite soldiers. Is she dead? Steve wondered. He could see no blood, nor any wounds. He contemplated shouting, but he doubted it would help. She looked about 40m tall, and even if she was capable of hearing him, he doubted that she would be well enough to respond.

Steve’s train of thought was lost by the sudden snap of a twig. He glanced toward the source of a noise. Something was in the forest. He then saw a figure emerge, and his heart plummeted. Clad in red in the red armour of the Cultists, this women left nothing to the imagination. As beautiful as they are terrible, Steve remembered from his briefing. Her eyes alighted on him hanging helplessly from his branch, and a smile spread across her face. She walked towards him, ignoring the Consulite, and drew a long wicked looking blade. She raised it, bringing it down upon the ropes holding him up. He plummeted to the ground, landing face down on the soft grass, he rolled over, and gazed up at the towering goddess of a women. She moved her crimson boot over him, and pressed down on his lower body, preventing him from moving.

“Well well well” she said softly. “Another puny human to enjoy”

Her wicked smile said it all.

Steve was doomed.