Detonations and explosions echoed behind them, the three men crashing into the small single storey room and dropping to the dirt coated floor, machine gun bullets clanking and smashing against the asphalt roof outside. Scrambling to either side, spotlights swept through the open door, shadows of the lift machinery swirling across the wall opposite as they thrust their backs against the reinforced section, coughing and spluttering in the thick dust.
Medvedev could hear muffled screams, the clanking of bullets hitting the craft above as several soldiers returned fire in desperation. Dust, frosted snow and rubbish swirled through the shattered doorway, the downdraft disrupting the Morgon mission through the ensuing dirt clouds as pin lights surged in intensity, attempting to break through the churning mass.
Then the craft were gone, surging southwards to select easier targets, the gunfire increasing outside as Captain Medvedev pushed himself upwards, swearing as the three men wheezed and coughed, his voice barely audible, ‘We need to move south…the animals are coming!’
He thrust himself through the doorway, gasping for air as he glimpsed the burning high building through the haze, pulling a dirt caked scarf from around his neck up over his nose and mouth. Several flashes as other shells smacked against the high storeys, one of the sentries following his commander out into the cold night air, his eyes following the flashing lights in the sky further southwards, ‘We will have to move quickly sir…’ His voice trailed off as he looked back at the dirt coated captain, seeing the man stare silently upwards as he took a step towards him.
The soldier’s eyes narrowed, shaking his head as he drew level and realised the commander was staring into the night sky, his vision following his as he hissed, ‘What is it sir?’
The officer’s hand rose, pointing upwards, his voice trembling, ‘The half-moon…it’s distorted…there is something in front if it…’ He gasped in sudden realisation, ‘It’s a ship…my god...it must be vast!’
The Ukraine: A Strategy Lost
Branches cracked and fell, the ground shuddering as dripping heavy mechanical legs thrust through the undergrowth, the Morgon walkers advancing through trees and brush, black and camouflaged armoured infantry walking on either side, their automatic weapons held across chests, bloodied two bladed swords across their backs. Red glowing helmeted eyes turned from side to side, studying the thick terrain as water laden ferns and bushes were pushed back, the sensors seeking human flesh for disembowelling mutilation and consumption.
Behind them, a bloodied rampage was evident, torn decapitated bodies and shattered equipment alongside the smouldering steel carcasses of APCs and tanks littering the blood splashed narrow roads and side fields, the Ukrainian defence forces mercilessly ambushed as they advanced north towards Chernobyl.
Major Kelb licked his lips in anticipation, smiling grimly as he lowered the high powered binoculars, nervous energy sweeping up his spine after glimpsing the shaking of trees in the distance, glimmers of body heat seeping through dense armoured plate as the Morgons advanced. He stared down the steep slope as the last uniformed survivors of Ukrainian army units desperately ran past in disorder and fear, many without their discarded weapons in a frantic haste to escape, then officer biting his lower lip as he considered the horror the fleeing soldiers had experienced.
Raising the glasses to his eyes once more, he grimaced, seeing the walkers progress further, the binoculars lowering briefly as he glanced to either side, his breath held as he saw the snipers’ eyes lower to their scopes as instructed.
Raising the binoculars once more, he drew a sharp breath, seeing the numerous figures emerge between the high walkers, his heart rate rising as even more trudged out behind, a hand rising to his earpiece, the microphone beneath his chin lifting as he twisted the speaker in his ear, whispering to almost eighty snipers and their spotters, ‘Wait for them to stumble through the traps and onto mines, then open fire…target their automated drivers and any officers…’
Major Kelb’s eyes narrowed, watching the darkened figures slowly progress across a field, hearing the distant mechanical whirring and clumps of the walkers, glimpsing brief indications of body heat beneath thick armour, the heads seeming to glow more as they moved from side to side, the field gradually filling with red sparkling eyes.
Kelb’s adrenalin soared, his breath held as the forward line of darkened camouflaged and black armour neared the first line of tripwires and mines, the specialist and adapted sniper rifles of high calibre and equipped with armour piercing explosive bullets, the tips of the ammunition slightly snubbed to maximise damage.
Then a flash from the far right, black armoured figures staggering around the ones that fell, two thrown into the air from the explosion. More crumps, the intense flashes lighting up the field as shrieks of anger and hatred resounded, phosphorus and fragmentation mines detonating amongst the Morgon forward soldiers. The sniper rifles belched and bucked, the gunners dragging the bolts on their weapons back frantically, the second bullet of the magazines slipping into barrels and before firing pins as eyes lowered resolutely to scopes once more. Spotters hissed the next potential victim, straining their eyes through infra-red binoculars as they pointed, their voices rising with pre-trained directions and any individual characteristics they could determine for recognition purposes.
Further explosions and detonations occurred, flashes spreading and illuminating across the darkness as tripped flares swept upwards, the intense white lights pulsing as silhouettes were illuminated, several staggering as Kelb grinned in relish. Sporadic fire erupted from the Morgon line, the forward soldiers firing blindly as several fell, their armoured helmets finally penetrated by the high calibre bullets.
Major Kelb pushed himself upwards and darted along the defensive line, the rifles bucking as his shouts echoed across his highly trained unit, ‘Bring them down! I want your percentages high (Kelb’s ultimate motivation
