The view the camera gave Wynn was beautiful as bright, blue spheres of plasma explosions vaporized, melted, or scattered the pesky Ork formations.
"RGNRK Flight, continue on present course to primary targets. No more delays. If enemies intercept us, we push through. Our air-defenses, armor, and escorts will be enough to swat down any resistance," she ordered. A chorus of affirmatives eager to rain a variety of destruction on their enemies blessed her ears.
"Excellent. RGNRK Primal to Leviathan Command, we'd encountered heavy resistance but enemies have been neutralized. Reporting the loss of two escort Buzzards. No deviations on our flight. End report."
A clear, feminine but cold voice answered her over the communication line. "Leviathan Command acknowledges. Our air force is making quick work of these Fly Boyz and ramshackle gunboats but there are a lot of enemies and much planets to cover. The threat of enemy air units can't be stopped until the planet is taken since these things are being put back together in quick time if they're not destroyed efficiently. That's the purpose of these bombing missions. Continue to accomplish your objectives. Leviathan Command out. "
The connection was cut without anymore fanfare. It may seem a bit cold but that's how the Grand Primal Commander worked. She was always clear with her commands and if you couldn't understand your orders, than you were not going to last long under her command. She expected more than perfection and obedience from her subordinates and if you didn't fall in place, she'd put you in place bloody and bruised.
Under her command, there was no need for her to ask if you understood. The communication lanes were flawless after millions of years of learning and adapting to new challenges so the only flaws could be with the subordinate.
Wynn shook her head (mentally) to focus back on the task. Her bombing corridor was coming and the only thing standing between it and her flight was a dark cloud of about two thousand Fly Boyz daring to fly this high up to meet their charge head on. The direct front of the craft was a blind spot for its AA guns but that was why it was the most heavily armored and shielded portion of the bomber instead of the bomb bay, which was second.
"All escorts, stay just behind your assigned bomber to engage hostiles we miss. All RGNRK bombers, accelerate to ramming speed," she ordered with a sick grin unseen due to her position. If there was one thing the Valkyrians kept and improved on since their earliest space faring years, it was their love of ramming their enemies. With the building of better ship materials, more cost efficient and powerful engines, and nimbler craft, the art of ramming one's prow into the body of a hysterical enemy was a destructive art form deified over the eons.
The propulsion drives and boosters flared with extra power to move the bombers from 1,800 mph to 3,500 mph. Reaching this speed caused fires around the bombers due to their speed and air friction. Despite the fires, the ships were unaffected. That kind of mass with that durability and speed going right into a flock of flesh beings heading straight at it would only have one outcome.
POP! POP! POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOP!!
What sounded like raindrops on a glass windshield reached Wynn's ears as the Orks found latching onto the front of the bomber to avoid the devastating AA fire was an effort in futility as they were reduced to bloody smears on the shell of the cockpit. The bodies popped like loud bubbles of blood upon contact. A mist of blood trailed behind the bombers thanks to the sheer amount of Ork sky-kill.
Four more trails of bloody mist were made by the four other bombers, each bomber thundering through the swarm of locust-like Orks without flinching. The AA railguns fired with a two second recharge period in between each four-shot burst, each burst killing one, two, and sometimes three Orks due to their swarming numbers. The Buzzards behind the bombers were firing all of their weapons as quickly as their energy cells could provide. Red lances of laser fire and the green bullets of anti-matter flew about with no care for what it hit as long as it all didn't hit the bombers. The shots and blasts were actually focused on the outskirts of the bombers, successfully warding away any Ork that somehow avoided being splattered or annihilated.
Orks that weren't left in the dust by the faster planes fired the moment they could but their smaller weapons merely left scorch marks on the painting of the massive bombers. The Orks that got missed by the ramming, AA fire and Buzzard fire were thrown around by the sheer wind displacement of the bomber. Up so close and in atmosphere, one really couldn't comprehend the brief sight of a bomber moving at nearly five times the speed of sound nor the sound that ruptured their ear drums—it was nothing their healing couldn't handle but they'd be out of it for a bit if they don't end up crashing into each other or down to the planet and by the time they recovered, the bombers would be long out of reach.
The bombers ripped out from the rear of the Fly Boyz swarm like a bat out of Hell, their cockpit sections and the front of their wings painted red with Ork blood and organs. An ignorant native of this galaxy would think it was a bomber wing belonging to a Chaos remnant, just minus the blasphemous words and taunts against the Imperium. The Buzzards were "nipping at the heels" of the bombers and had successfully made it through with no extra losses.
The Ork swarm had been reduced by a third of its original size with another third being disoriented by the air displacement and noise damage while the remaining third seemed to not really know whether to pursue or find a less threatening target. With the destruction of their fleets, the constant taunting and mocking by Yggdra Yuril Artwaltz over the empowered psychic… megaphone for a lack of a better term that she was using the Outer Heaven as, and the technological curbstomp they were suffering at the hands of the Valkyrians, many Orks would have fled had it not been for their Ork boss constantly riling them up.
Back in the cockpit with Wynn, she was grinning like a shark. "RGNRK Primal to RGNRK flight, air space to target is clear. Decelerate to bombing speed and switch to (Plasma Rain) PR-99s for infantry carpet bombing. Use (Bunker Busting) BB-188s for heavily fortified targets. ETA is one minute."
The bombers began shifting to the left and right away from Wynn to spread their bombing radius out, but kept each other just close enough for their bombs' blast radius to overlap each other for far more effective destruction. Their pilots synced up with each other to create a bombing path that went parallel to each other. The computers also began pointing out targets of interest and compiling a list of the most effective bombs to automatically use in the order of first to last.
The first target was a crowd of hundreds of Orks in the open. PR-99 selected.
Second target, Ork infantry, plus 2000. PR-99 x2 selected.
Third target, Ork ammo dump and armored vehicle farm, PR-99 x2, BB-188 selected.
Fourth target, large Ork battlement, BB-188 selected.
And so the process went on for the next seconds, the computer creating a whole list of bombs to be dropped in a specific order.
The bombers were in position and Wynn finally gave the order.
"Bring them pain and death."