Tregan stared ahead, his heart pounding as the vessel stabilised, surging forward as the pilots tensed, the immense warship filling the front screen as they swept through the outer shield, a gasp coming from his lips as the dropship suddenly surged upwards, the rattling and vibration increasing before its abruptly slowed, banking once more at a steep angle, whirring as the laser guns on either side deployed, the dropship turning as thrusters burst into life.
Clanking and grinding as the landing gear deployed, the vessel sweeping through the green flickering protective shield, laser cannon belching as the upper gatling gun spewed high powered rounds outwards, seven other ships joining with the first.
Morgon engineers and loading crews shrieked in panic, the dropships uncloaking rapidly as the gun and laser fire erupted, the high powered intense lasers tearing through armoured bodies and scorching the landing bay walls, high velocity bullets clanking against upper gantries, the reserve soldiers cowering behind equipment boxes, two Morgon fighters and a disabled dropship offering further cover. The upper images of Trevakian and human edible body parts splintered and disintegrated, high velocity rounds shredding the Morgon flags and emotionally charged propaganda slogans hanging from upper gantries, many becoming engulfed in ignited flame.
Dust and smoke billowed outwards as the dropships lowered, loud clanks as the landing gear made contact with the steel decking below, the rear doors lowering rapidly as Captain Dugachard shouted frantically, ‘Everyone out! Defensive shield…secure the landing area.’ Tregan emerged from the cockpit beside her, flashes surging through the rear compartment as the doors whirred downwards, crashing onto the deck, the officer lifting her own rifle, indicating to a stunned Riaz, ‘Stay close…once the engineers alienate and secure the protective shield’s integrity, we advance across this ship!’ Her voice rose once more as her visor shot downwards, ‘Kill every Morgon on board…we have six hundred marines and commandoes with special weapons detachments…we are taking every landing bay!’
Riaz grimaced in shock, lifting his laser rifle in rising determination as the Trevakians and Fahimians surged from the rear compartments, bullets clanking against the drop ship hulls as sparks erupted across the cockpit windows, the pilots scrambling from their seats and grasping their own rifles…everyone would fight.
Fahimian transponders and cloaking had proven successful, unleashing a cunning plan…Vipers and other Trevakian fighter bombers had destroyed the motors that could close the outer bay doors…the battle was now aboard the Morgon Decimator warship.
Chapter Thirty One: Home, Sweet Home
David Bland swore under his breath as the vessel bucked and shook violently, the pilot’s voice seeming strained from the cockpit on the speakers, ‘Morgon fighter presence on the planet below increasing…numerous vessels identified, descending cloaked…determining optimum covert route…’
Jozefina nudged the airport manager, her hand seeking his in rising apprehension, ‘Where are we landing?’
David pulled his hand away, grunting in displeasure, ‘I don’t know…I am only a Lieutenant and a new one at that…the senior officer also thinks I am an idiot!’ He drew another breath as the rattling increased, the numerous craft banking in low altitude, fighters sweeping along next to them as the waves beneath churned, several causing backdrafts across the choppy water, the pilot’s gravelly voice breaking through static once more, ‘Landing area ahead clear, scanning indicates Morgon ground troop concentrations have been present further inland…no airborne vessels as yet, they are reports of walkers and attack animals, but seem dispersed or in hiding. It looks like they are awaiting further reinforcements…so we should be cautious, this deviates from their normal strategy…we believe these to be grenadier or specialist units.’
Babon’s voice rose from the rear of the darkened compartment, his tone firm, ‘We land and form up…clear the area of any enemy and hunt down their local command and supply, eliminate it…and then take out the rest of their forces. Once we are on the ground, the dropships will leave and proceed south…Yankee company will be alone, but can request Fahimian commando drops and their air support.’ The young Trevakian pushed himself upwards, grasping the steel racks above for support, ‘The terrain is rough…engineers will set up a defendable command post from where we will direct operations. This is a secondary front it seems, the enemy keeping a low profile…raiding parties to spread panic and perhaps draw troops away from a possible main attack location.’ He nodded towards an obviously concerned Jozefina, ‘We have listened to local news reports…soldiers are sweeping a wide area with helicopter support, but as yet nothing…most of the soldiers are guarding the coastlines apparently.’ He grinned briefly, the craft descending further as boosters whined, the dropship turning and lowering, ‘Welcome to Scotland…we are on the west coast apparently…near a place called Skye…’
David Bland sighed, shaking his head as he exclaimed, ‘I came here on holiday once…it rained all the time…but a stunning place. Great natural beauty…’ He unbuckled his belt, grasping the rifle as he rose, shouting as Jozefina jerked in surprise, the rear compartment doors creaking as they lowered, steam billowing from the drop ship hull, ‘My section form up with me outside…we hunt these scum down and kill them…this is my country, not theirs!’
David Bland straightened, twisting his neck and stepping towards the extending opening, the rifle held across his chest as other marines rose around him, their visors adjusting to the light, uniforms beginning to transform into blue and grey camouflage, the breastplates and leg protectors also changing to duller colours, an addition of matt camouflage green added to the others.
He lowered on the rear ramp, Babon crouching next to him as heavy rainwater splashed across their visors and splattered across shoulder plates and knees. Crouched marines surged past with laser rifles raised, forming a perimeter around the rear of the grey vessel, the process repeated around several other landed ships nearby, a number of drenched barking dogs
